Controlled Burn

by Shannon Stacey

  “I’ll go with you,” Jessica volunteered, the words leaving her mouth before she really gave any thought to them. She should work, even though she was kind of on vacation.

  Just thinking about the phone call from her father that morning made her shudder. Sharon must have finally told him Jessica was using vacation time to extend her stay long enough to go to the charity hockey game, and he’d not only been very angry, but also still intoxicated.

  “You know one of us needs to be on top of things,” he’d said when a simple demand she return hadn’t gotten the result he wanted. “The clients depend on it.”

  She’d taken a deep breath and then closed her eyes. “Then maybe you should have a pot of coffee and take a shower and go in to the office.”

  He’d hung up on her, which he rarely did, and hadn’t called her back right away as he had in the past. She’d sat with her phone for almost fifteen minutes, battling an urge to call him back and tell him she’d fly out as soon as the medical meeting was over. Then she’d turned it off and turned her focus to getting ready to meet Joe’s doctor.

  It was the first time she’d ever called her father on being unavailable or not done what he needed her to do, but she was tired of it. She wanted to go to a stupid hockey game with her grandparents.

  Marie drove, which was hard on Jessica’s nerves. She had to admit, though, she wasn’t sure her doing the driving would have been any easier. At least Marie knew where they were going and found a parking space without too much trouble.

  “We should see if the boys are around.”

  Jessica was confused. “Boys? What boys?”

  When Marie stopped walking and waved her hand toward the other side of the street, Jessica realized she meant men. And one man in particular.

  They were across from a tall brick building that looked pretty old, and had two big openings on the first floor. The huge garage doors were up and Jessica could see the fire trucks, each parked inside with a plaque screwed to the arched brickwork. Engine 59. Ladder 37.

  Great. She needed more Rick Gullotti in her life, since tossing and turning and trying not to think about kissing him wasn’t torture enough. Watching his muscles flex and hearing the soft grunting sounds he made in the gym had been torture, and she hadn’t been able to ride the bike hard enough to sweat the desire out. And that was before he’d kissed her. The feelings that seeing him triggered in her body were escalating from want to need at an alarming rate.

  “I thought you wanted to go to the craft store,” Jessica said.

  But then a man in a Boston Fire T-shirt walked around the front of Engine 59 and happened to glance across the street in their direction. After a few seconds, he smiled and lifted a hand in greeting. “Hey, Mrs. Broussard! How you doing?”

  Jessica surrendered to the inevitable and followed Marie across the street, waiting patiently while her grandmother accepted a kiss on the cheek from the firefighter. He looked younger than Rick, and had short dark hair and brown eyes.

  “Jessica, this Scott Kincaid. And this is my granddaughter, Jessica.”

  She shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “You, too. I’ve heard a little about you.” Rick had talked about her? Jessica clamped her mouth shut, not wanting to embarrass herself by asking what he’d said. “Let me grab Rick for you.”

  She expected him to walk away, but he took out his cell phone and dashed off a text. A few seconds later, his phone chimed and he read the reply. “He’ll be down in a few minutes. How do you like Boston so far, Jessica?”

  “It’s definitely different from San Diego. And colder.”

  He laughed and waved them inside the big bay. “It’s not even cold yet, so we’ve got the doors open. We love fresh air and we’ll keep the door at the top of the stairs closed if we’ve got heat on upstairs, but we keep these open as much as possible.”

  Jessica looked at the fire truck practically gleaming wherever the sun or the overhead lights touched it. They obviously took good care of them. “They’re so huge. How do you drive them around this city without hitting anything?”

  “We pretty much always have the right of way, and let’s just say we usually drive them around the city without hitting anything.”

  He was walking as he talked, and she followed him around the truck, enjoying the close-up view. “Are those pictures on the internet of fire hoses run through broken windows on cars real?”

  “They’re real.” He shrugged. “We try not to damage things because the paperwork sucks, but we’re also not going to let somebody get hurt or lose half a city block because some jerk parked in front of a hydrant.”

  “Guess they don’t do it again.”

  “You’d be surprised. And you should ask Gullotti about the time a call came in that there were kids trapped on the top floor of a burning three-decker. When he got there, some rookie cop trying to help secure the area had parked his cruiser in the way and wasn’t right there to move it.”

  Jessica gave him a look of disbelief. “Don’t tell me he pushed a police car out of the way.”

  “He pretty much wrecked the hell out of that cruiser. But that’s the LT. Until he gets the ladder up, we can’t save anybody, so he doesn’t mess around.”

  “LT?”

  “Lieutenant. For Ladder 37, anyway. I’m with Engine 59, so Danny Walsh gets to boss me around, but we always roll together. One pumper engine and one ladder truck.”

  “What about the lieutenant?”

  Jessica whirled at the sound of Rick’s voice, hoping the rush of heat she felt didn’t show on her face. He was wearing the same navy Boston Fire T-shirt as Scott, tucked into blue uniform pants. The shirt was snug and her gaze traveled over delicious biceps before jerking back to his face.

  “I was telling her what a pain in the ass you are,” Scott said. “And how bossy you are.”

  “Yeah. Speaking of being bossy, everybody’s eating. Go grab something because then we’re dragging the boxes out and, unless we get called out, nobody’s leaving until the decorating’s done.”

  Scott rolled his eyes. “Good to see you, Mrs. Broussard. And it was nice to meet you, Jessica. A bunch of us are going to play pool tomorrow night at my old man’s bar. You should have Gullotti bring you.”

  “I don’t know, but thanks for the invite.” Jessica watched him disappear into a back corner, where she assumed there was a set of stairs, and then turned back to Rick. “I asked him how you guys drive these massive trucks around and he told me to ask you about the police car.”

  “That wasn’t my fault,” Rick said sternly, but the corners of his mouth quirked up. “They buried me in paperwork, let me tell you.”

  “I’m going to go to the craft store while you two chat,” Marie said. “Give her a bit of a tour and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  She was gone before Jessica could protest, moving fast for a woman who was supposed to be in declining health. Not sure what to do, she turned back to Rick. “You don’t have to give me a tour. You should go eat and I’ll catch up with Marie.”

  “Already ate. And, trust me, you don’t want to be at the craft store with her. The owner’s one of her best friends and they can literally talk for hours. I took her one time, when she was on a medication that banned her from driving, and I actually fell asleep in a wooden chair with my head on a pile of quilt squares on the table.”

  “I don’t have a lot of patience for crafts, so that sounds like a nightmare. What are you decorating?”

  “For Christmas. We put up lights, including some cool big ones around the bay doors. There’s a big wreath we always hang above the plaques. Electric candles in the windows that face the street. That sort of thing. And each of the trucks has a wreath for the front grill.”

  He showed her around the trucks and all the gear, which was more interesting th
an she would have thought. Or maybe it was just liking the sound of his voice. Then he brought her to the second floor, where there were offices and a room where the officers slept. They skipped over most of it, though he described the rooms as they passed them.

  He sent and received a text, and then led her up another flight of stairs to what she assumed was the top floor. “They know you’re coming.”

  She heard the noise right away. Men’s voices—a lot of them—and laughter rang through the third floor, making her smile. “It looks like an apartment.”

  “It essentially is. In the back we have a shower room and some workout equipment, along with a couple of bathrooms. This, as you can see, is the living room, and the bunk room’s through that door.”

  There were a couple of long couches, as well as comfortable and battered-looking chairs set wherever they fit. All of them faced a large television screen, which was currently off. She was surprised by how neat everything was and said so.

  He laughed. “There are a lot of guys sharing this space. Not only the ones you can hear in the kitchen, but the other shifts that are here when we aren’t. Just one person not cleaning up after himself can be a problem.”

  When she followed him into a huge kitchen and dining space, her eyes widened. He wasn’t kidding about a lot of guys sharing the space. In chairs, leaning against counters, rummaging in the fridge. The room was full of men and Rick went quickly through their names, probably not expecting her to remember any of them.

  Scott Kincaid, she’d met. And Danny Walsh, Aidan Hunt and Grant Cutter were assigned to Engine 59 with him. And with Rick were Jeff Porter—who was even bigger than Rick—Gavin Boudreau, and Chris Eriksson, who she thought was older than Rick if she judged by the gray in his beard. There was also an older man he only called Chief, who’d just bitten into a thick sandwich and waved to her from the head of the table.

  Jessica smiled and gave a general wave in everybody’s direction, and then followed Rick back downstairs with a sigh of relief. She didn’t like being the center of attention and they’d definitely turned all eyes on her when she walked into the kitchen. Whether it was idle curiosity or whether they were trying to figure out what—if anything—she was to Rick, she didn’t know, but she’d felt awkward.

  “Do you think you’ll get all the decorations up before you get called out?” she asked when they were back on the ground floor.

  He shrugged and leaned against the side of his ladder truck. “I hope so, just so we can check it off the list. They’re supposed to be up by now, but when the alarm’s struck, we’ve gotta go. Tuesdays don’t usually get too wild and crazy, but you never know.”

  “Thanks for the tour,” she said, suddenly feeling shy. It was stupid because it wasn’t as if this had been a date or anything, but she still wasn’t sure how to say goodbye. “I guess I’ll go find Marie and let her introduce me to her friend. I’m probably quite the gossip fodder this week.”

  “But the good kind,” he said, not bothering to deny it. “I grabbed you a ticket to the hockey game, by the way. We can all ride over together.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Do you want to go to Kincaid’s tomorrow right? I heard Scotty ask you.”

  “I don’t know.” Did he mean as a date? Or was he only following up on an invitation Scott had technically extended to her. “I’ve never played pool.”

  “We can teach you.” She was going to respond to that when an alarm sounded and Rick’s entire body language changed in the blink of an eye. “Gotta go.”

  “I’ll get out of the way.”

  “When you go out, stay on this side of the street.” He talked to her as he stepped into tall boots with some kind of pants scrunched into them. Once his feet were in, he pulled up the pants and looped suspenders over his shoulders. “We swing wide coming out and we’ve been known to hop the opposite curb a time or two.”

  He winked at her, and then turned to grab a heavy-looking coat with reflective stripes on it and a helmet. She yelled a goodbye as guys flooded into the bay and then stepped out onto the sidewalk, under a flashing red light over the bay doors. She noticed the other pedestrians stopped, none of them passing in front of the fire station, and a car down the street stopped.

  Faster than she would have thought possible, a siren wailed and Engine 59’s nose appeared. It pulled out into a right turn, not quite going up on the curb, but she saw the entire stretch was marked for no parking. The men waved to her as they went by, and so did the guys from Ladder 37 when it pulled out. Rick was in the shotgun seat and he gave her a grin along with the wave.

  She wasn’t sure if it was the excitement of the lights and sirens or Rick’s grin that made her heart pound in her chest, but Jessica watched the two trucks until they turned out of sight and then went to find her grandmother.

  Chapter Eight

  Jessica was propped against her pillow with her tablet, reading an article about a possible product recall and considering what impact it could have on stock prices, when her cell phone vibrated. It was sitting on the bed next to her, and she frowned when she saw her father’s name on the screen.

  Apparently he was going to be the first to flinch in their game of telephone chicken. She was surprised he’d made it all the way to Wednesday afternoon without calling with another attempt to bend her to his will. Or to tell her he’d emptied her office and all of her stuff was in cardboard boxes on the sidewalk. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves, swiped to answer and said hello.

  “Jessica, it’s your father.”

  Which she knew since her phone—the same model as his—had told her so. And she realized at that moment he never referred to himself as Dad. Hey, honey, it’s Dad. Maybe that was why she rarely thought of him that way. He was always her father in her mind. But she called him Dad when she spoke to him directly because calling him Father would sound cold and awkward, especially in front of others. Never, even as a little girl, had she ever called him Daddy, though. “Hi, Dad.”

  “I’m in the office today and I don’t know if I should be pleased or insulted by how well things have been handled while you’re away.”

  She wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or a prelude to letting her know he didn’t need her anymore, but at least he sounded sober. He must be, since he never drank at the office. “You already know Sharon’s amazing and, like I told you before, my laptop and phone don’t care where I am when I use them.”

  “How are things in Boston?”

  Did he mean her? His parents? The weather? “Fine. We met with Joe and Marie’s doctor yesterday and they’re in generally good health, though he thinks they should strongly consider downsizing now, rather than later when one of them has a crisis.”

  “Are you putting the house on the market?”

  She laughed. “I can’t, since it’s not my house. And they’re not sold on the idea yet. They’re understandably reluctant to leave their home, and they have Rick upstairs.”

  “So there’s nothing you can do there right now, then.”

  “I’m going to a hockey game Saturday,” she said, knowing that was not at all what he’d meant.

  “A hockey game.” He was quiet for a few seconds, and she pictured him staring out the window as he considered what to say next. “Our holiday party is a week from Saturday.”

  “I know. I’ve been working on it with Alicia, who has been assisting me with it for the last five years, so it’s all under control. And I’ll be home for that. I’m not sure what day yet, but you know I wouldn’t miss it.”

  “I wasn’t sure at all. I don’t know if they’ve turned you against me.”

  Jessica sighed and wiggled down the mattress until she could lie on her pillow and stare at the ceiling. “They’re not like that, Dad. They’re really nice and they haven’t said a bad word about you. They know you
’re my father and they wouldn’t put me in the middle like that. They just want to get to know me.”

  “You shouldn’t get emotionally involved with them. It muddies the business.”

  “They’re my grandparents.” Not that family seemed to mean much to him. “You know, I’ve seen their wedding photos and some pictures when Marie was about my age. I’m like a clone of her.”

  “Trust me, I know. Let me know as soon as you know which day you’re flying home, okay?”

  “Okay.” She wanted to dig at him over the phone. To push him into revealing some emotional response to her looking so much like his mother. But he was at work, he was sober, and he was giving her some space, no matter how reluctantly. She didn’t want to rock that boat. “And I’m going to forward you a few articles to read, too. We might need to strategize about a few accounts when I get back to San Diego.”

  “I’m looking forward to it,” he said, sounding a little more chipper. “That’s what we do best. We’re a good team.”

  She smiled when she hung up, glad he was choosing to be reasonable in the face of not getting his way. He seemed content to wait until she came home for the holiday party, but she knew he’d play hardball if she tried to leave again. And that was a problem.

  Every Christmas Eve, she and her father—along with his wife if he had one that year—had dinner together and exchanged gifts. He spent Christmas Day at his country club, where a charity golf game had become a tradition with the less than jolly set. She spent the day being lazy in her pajamas and watching any movies she could find that didn’t revolve around Christmas and families with moms and dads.

  This year she found herself wondering what it would be like to come down the stairs and have breakfast with her family and then open presents under the tree. Or maybe they were the kind of people who opened presents first and then ate breakfast.

  She couldn’t be here for Christmas this year. She knew that, even though it was tempting to imagine getting on a flight back to Boston once the party was over so she could spend the holidays with her grandparents. But her father sounded as if he was making an effort to accept that she was going to have a relationship with his parents, and he was also going to be alone for the first time in four or five years, since he was divorcing. Maybe next Christmas she could get away without too much guilt.