It took another twenty minutes to get up to the second floor where we found an unconscious woman and another child. They were pulled out, and we finally moved the hose line in to put out the flames that had reached the second floor, and then made our way up to the third. We were there for another hour putting out the last of the flames. When we finally emerged, we were informed by the medics that the woman and her two children suffered from smoke inhalation and had been taken to the hospital. They would likely recover and be discharged within a few days.
“All in a day’s work,” Sean stated, clapping me on the back.
“Anyone hungry?” Don questioned.
But before anyone could respond in the affirmative, we were already getting another call for a fire a few blocks over.
“Duty calls.” I climbed back in the truck, and beat my palm again the outside, as my way of informing Sean in the driver’s seat that we were ready to head to our next fire.
****
“Mr. Townsend, sir, if you would just stay still for another minute or two, I can finish up.”
I growled in the back of my throat at my tailor’s insistence. My eyes roved over his bald head up to the mirror in front of me. My frown deepened. I wore a black tux and fucking hated it.
“This damn thing is stifling me,” I ground out, running my forefinger in between the collar of my shirt and neck, twisting my head.
“That collar fits your measurements exactly, sir. It should not be a problem.”
“Don’t worry about him, Jinks. He’s just grouchy ’cause he doesn’t want to attend our annual ball.”
I narrowed my eyes and stared at my younger brother, Joshua, in the mirror.
“He needs to get the fuck over it.” A deeper, meaner voice moved in behind Joshua. My brother, Aaron. He hadn’t even looked up from his cell phone. Always conducting business with a damn frown on his face. Whereas my frown was due to my uncomfortableness at the moment, Aaron wore a permanent scowl like a badge of honor.
“Fuck both of you. I don’t need to attend this thing at all,” I reminded them.
“Mother and Father will have the police out looking for you. And I don’t have time to play babysitter with you,” Aaron retorted.
I didn’t even bother responding to him or Joshua, who just chuckled. Instead, I pulled out my cell phone and went straight to my contacts.
“Hello?”
Just her voice caused an unraveling of the tension that’d been flowing through my veins.
“Hello, sugar.”
A tiny gasp. “Who … Carter?”
“Yup. How are you?”
“How did you get my number?”
I pursed my lips. “You’re asking the wrong question.” I paused, scowling at Jinks who was still taking measurements and attempting to stick needles in the pants I wore. “Hold on, sugar,” I stated into the phone. “Don’t touch me.” I pushed Jinks out of the way and stepped down off the stand he had me standing on. Without looking, I brushed past my brothers to head back into the changing area for a little privacy.
“Now, as I was saying,” I returned to my phone call, “the question you should be asking is why you didn’t give me your number yourself. Better yet, how about you answer that question tonight over another hot dog? Or maybe I could spring for the sit down restaurant we discussed? Do you like Chinese?”
“Chinese?” she repeated, sounding confused.
“Yeah, I would opt for something a little fancier but I am just making ends meet on a civil servant’s salary.”
“Firefighters actually make a great salary here in Williamsport.”
My lips twitched. “You may be right about that. In that case, I’ll spring for egg rolls and extra sauce with our meal.”
My stomach muscles tightened when her laughter filled the phone line.
“That has to be the best sound I’ve heard all day.” My voice had deepened. “So, that sounds like a yes for tonight.”
Her laughter filtered out and she said, “I can’t.”
“Now that there has to be the worst sound I’ve heard all day, sugar.”
“Carter.”
My hand tightened around my phone at the sound of my name coming from her mouth.
“I have a work event tonight.”
“A work event?” My skepticism was apparent.
“I’m an event planner and I’m assisting at an event tonight.”
“So, another night then?”
She sighed, “I can’t.”
“Can’t isn’t really a word in my vocabulary, sugar.”
“It appears no isn’t either.”
I grinned. “You learn quickly.”
Another forceful push of air from her mouth. “Carter, I just can’t. Okay?”
I didn’t say anything for a long time. Instead I let her words fill my head, and then the expression on her beautiful, caramel face whenever I got close to her that day in the park. The way her eyes got big and shifted between me and something behind me. Those soft-looking full lips of hers that pulled together when I asked for her number, as if her mouth wanted to blurt out her number but something held her back.
“What are you afraid of?” I knew fear when I saw it.
“What’re you talking about?” she questioned, startled.
“If there’s one emotion that I know like the back of my hand, it’s fear, sugar. Want to know a secret?”
“Wh-what?”
“You can’t outrun fear. It’s bigger than you and faster than you. There’s only one way to really be rid of it,” I paused. “You have to succumb to it. Sit in it and let it wash over you, until you feel like it’s going to drown you. That’s how you make friends with it. Then you realize, it can’t do shit to you. It begins to shrink and recede like the bitch it is, and you’ve won. But you have to confront it first. Now tell me, what are you afraid of?”
I heard a shuddering breath, and it reached through the line and dug down at something deep inside of my gut.
“I-I’m not afraid of anything. I have to go. P-please don’t call me again.”
The click at the other end of the phone signaled that she’d hung up. That only incensed me, not at her but at whatever it was that made her fearful, distrustful of what was happening between us. Try as she might, I knew there was something powerful between us, on both our ends. I wasn’t in this shit alone. Every day I’d gone to work with her on my mind, and every night I worked up a sweat trying to push myself into an exhaustion-induced sleep. Even on the nights it did work, I’d fall into a dreamland in which she was the star. It was time to quit playing games. I’d asked nicely but I was well past the point of simply asking.
“New friend?”
I sighed and turned to my brother. “Nosey much?”
“I wasn’t eavesdropping, just seeing how your tux fitting was going.”
“I bet. What do you want, Aaron?” He stepped closer. Shorter than my six-foot-three inch body by only an inch, we stood just about shoulder to shoulder.
“You aren’t thinking of skipping out again, are you? Mother and Father nearly ruined my night last year because I had to practically send out a search party for you.”
“I was working during last year’s gala. I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Just make sure you keep it that way.”
“Why? It’s not like you’re gonna get laid after the gala anyway.” I laughed at the V that deepened in his forehead. My brother was as mean as a rattlesnake. I couldn’t imagine the unlucky woman that ended up with him, if even for a night.
“It doesn’t look good for business when one of the family isn’t present.”
“Ah,” I nodded, “business. Right. Can’t have that.” Townsend Industries, my family’s pride and joy, especially Aaron’s. It was just a business to me, a business that I’d passed up. That still pissed my brother and father off.
“Just don’t fuck up tonight,” Aaron snarled.
“You can count on me, baby brother.” I couldn’t help but laugh again at his pissed
off expression. He hated when I reminded him that he was still my baby brother. Yes, only by a few months, but still younger. Aaron’s biological father was my uncle, but his parents died when he was young and my mother and father took him in, raising him as one of their four boys. He was my brother in every way, except for the DNA.
“Anyway, why do I have to attend this thing and Tyler doesn’t?” I questioned, of our absent brother.
“Tyler is on his way. He got caught up at a commercial shoot in Miami.”
I frowned. “I’m sure he did.” Tyler was the youngest of us four and he, like me, had opted out of the family business. Instead, he pursued his dreams and was an up and coming quarterback in the NFL.
“He’ll be here. As will you,” Aaron stated, strangely sounding like a warning.
But since I knew he was mean but wasn’t fucking crazy enough to threaten me, I clapped him on the back. “With bells on, baby brother. With bells on.” Chuckling, I moved past him to go back out to the area where Jinks still was so he could finish my damn tux. After I fulfilled my obligation to make my appearance at the family’s gathering, I would give Andy another call to find out everything I wanted to know about Michelle Clarke.
****
Michelle
“You look beautiful, Mama.” Diego’s brown eyes were wide and sparkling as he watched me enter the living room from the hallway.
“Thank you, baby.” I moved to the cream, flower print couch he sat on and bent down to give him a kiss. “And thank you, Ma, for telling him to say that.” I glanced over my shoulder at my mother who was sitting at the dining table sipping a cup of tea.
Her eyelids fluttered and she placed her teacup on the saucer, waving her hands at me. “I did no such thing. My grandbaby is just sweet like that,” she insisted. “But we have been working on him being a gentleman, haven’t we, Diego?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Boys are supposed to tell girls how pretty they look all the time,” he reiterated.
“Mama, don’t go around telling him that. You’ll have my little boy being a flirt before he reaches the third grade.”
“He’s gotta learn from somebody. His raggedy ass daddy ain’t around to teach him.
“Ma!” I yelled.
“What?” The wide, honey-colored eyes I’d inherited from her looked at me innocently.
I moved closer to her, not wanting Diego to overhear anymore. “Can you please limit your insults of his father until Diego is out of earshot? Actually, how about you just quit talking about his father period.” Lord knew I wanted to forget all about him. Thinking of Diego’s father just caused an anxiousness I hated to move through me, and that reminded me of the conversation I’d had over the phone not even an hour ago
What are you afraid of?
You! I wanted to say, but it was so much more than that, and I just couldn’t explain it all.
“Leave your hair alone. It looks fine,” my mother argued, obviously not noticing my thoughts had strayed.
I took her advice and simply patted the halo braid I’d put my hair in, leaving it alone for now.
“Do you think I look okay?” I held out my arms and did a little spin for my mother’s assessment. I wore a burgundy shift dress with short, cuffed sleeves, which was cinched in the middle by a gold belt. The dress stopped right at my knees, but what I liked about it is that this dress had pockets. Since I’d be working, I never knew what I had to carry on me, and pockets came in handy.
“You look great, just like my grandson said.”
I nodded. “Alright, it’s time I should go.” I rifled through my black leather clutch to make sure I’d placed my cell phone, gum, work information, and anything else I needed into my bag. Satisfied, I went over and gave Diego―who was transfixed on the TV―another kiss.
“Ma, don’t forget. Only let Diego watch another hour of TV, then he needs to do his reading or drawing or something else, okay?”
“Girl, get on.” She waved me out the door. “I raised you, didn’t I?”
Just barely, I countered in my head, but left it unsaid.
“We’re gonna finish this Doc McStuffins show and then Diego is going to read to me and we have a new puzzle to get started on. We’ll be fine. You have fun at work.”
I huffed. “It’s work, it won’t be too much fun.” I was helping coordinate the annual gala held by Townsend Industries. The event was always held at Townsend Manor, the huge estate where Robert and Deborah Townsend lived.
“You’ll have fun. G’nite, baby. Diego, say goodnight to your mama.”
“’Nite, Mama!” he called out, eyes glued to the television screen.
“Ma, don’t forget. One h–” She practically pushed me out the door, shutting it in my face before I could fully remind her about my one hour TV rule. I rolled my eyes and patted my hair again before heading down the hallway to take the stairs. I always tried to park closest to the exit, which is why I opted to take the stairs to and from my fourth floor apartment. I was making an effort to get in as many steps per days as possible, even though I wasn’t wearing my Fitbit.
Thirty-five minutes later, I was pulling up to the gated entrance of Townsend Manor. I needed to show a state-issued I.D., work badge, and employee pass before I was finally allowed through the gate. I was told security would be tight at this event and to bring all three with me upon arrival, or I wouldn’t be allowed in. Thankfully, I’d remembered. As soon as I parked my car, my phone started ringing. It was Nancy, my boss and owner of Save The Date Event Planners.
“I’m just getting out of my car now. Where are you?” I questioned, looking around.
“At the front entrance. We need someone to handle parking until Jason gets here.”
I glanced toward the front door and saw a frantic looking Nancy with her short, blonde locks swinging a few inches above her shoulder as her gaze bounced from left to right. Nancy always had this sort of nervous energy when we did big events. She was a perfectionist and paid attention to even the most minute details. It is what made her and this company so successful, but it also could turn her into a micromanager. Thankfully, I was just as detail-oriented as she was, and the both of us got on great.
“I’ll take it from here. I’ll ‘walkie’ you when Jason arrives,” I told her. She rushed off to tend to matters out back where the gala was to be held. I busied myself by introducing myself to the valet who’d be working that evening. We solidified the plans for where the cars were going to go and what order everything would happen in. Only a handful of staff working the event and a few top priority attendees were allowed to actually park on the property, while the other guests had to valet and walk up the entranceway. I spent the next forty-five minutes coordinating with the valet staff and talking to Nancy and a few other of my coworkers through the walkie-talkie.
“Family members entering gate,” one of the security staff alerted us through the walkie-talkie. I stood at the entrance of the front door, watching as the huge iron gate slowly opened inward and two shiny limousines with the windows blacked out pulled in one right behind the other. The chauffeurs got out and went around to pull the back doors of the limos open. A grey-haired male was the first to get out, stopping with his back to me and then turning to offer his hand to someone. The next to emerge was a woman, his wife. These were Robert and Deborah Townsend. Their pictures often lined the society pages, especially from one of the clippings that Nancy had on a whiteboard in her office. She did that often with A-list clients. The pair looked elegant, Robert towering over his wife by nearly a foot. He was in his sixties but looked at least a decade younger, even with his grey hair. Deborah was beautiful, her dirty blonde hair pulled back in a chignon, dazzling blue eyes that seemed eerily familiar. I brushed that feeling off, reminding myself I’d been staring at the woman’s picture for the better part of a month, so of course her eyes looked familiar. Robert wore a black tux while Deborah wore a long, pastel pink, off-the-shoulder gown. The pair came up the steps arm-in-arm.
“Mr.
and Mrs. Townsend.” I nodded. “I’m Michelle Clarke from Save the Date. Nancy is–”
“Right here,” Nancy’s breathless voice pushed its way through and I happily stepped aside to let her greet her clients.
By the time I turned back to get a view of who was in the second limo, the passengers were already getting out. I noted four men, in my peripheral, the first was tall with dark hair and hazel eyes. He could be considered handsome … maybe even devastatingly so, if it wasn’t for the scowl marring his face. He turned his gaze on me and I felt my insides shrink back, but I maintained a steely outward façade, smiling and nodding in his direction. I turned my eyes to the person next to him and everything except my heart rate froze. The beating muscle in my chest felt like it was going to explode.
What the hell is he doing here? Wait, how did he even get … The questions circling my mind halted when he turned those blue eyes my way, and by his expression I could see he was just as shocked as I was. However, unlike me, his shock soon ebbed and gave way to undiluted satisfaction, if the slow spreading smile on his face was any indication.
My attention was torn from Carter when Mr. and Mrs. Townsend stepped past me and I had to back out of the way to let them pass.
“Mr. Townsend, I wou–”
“Thanks.” The first man I saw, standing next to Carter, held up his hand and breezed past Nancy, cutting off her introduction.
Next, I was caught like a deer in headlights when I turned to find Carter standing directly over me.
“Mr. Townsend. What a pleasure to meet you. This is my employee, M–”
“Michelle Clarke,” he said, cutting off Nancy and making my knees weak.
“Carter.” His name always came out as some sort of plea when I said it.
“You two have met?” I didn’t need to look at her to hear the curiosity in Nancy’s voice.
“C-Mr. Townsend, saved my life,” I told Nancy, remembering I was working and should be using formal titles. The glower on Carter’s face revealed his emotion. What was he upset about?
“Carter. Mr. Townsend is my father.”
I felt his grip on my hand tighten. When had he taken my hand?
Carter's Flame Page 4