by A. J. Downey
“I’ll bring her right back, I promise.”
“You do that, stud,” Dawnie said dryly, an amused smile on her lips.
“Ah, hmm!” Pasquale choked off a laugh and hid behind his mojito.
“Never gonna win me back that way, buddy!” Backdraft called back over his shoulder at him. I laughed and hugged his arm, just happy he was here.
“I’m glad you made it back from wherever,” I said as we went up the four steps at the end of the bar to the glassed-in room. The door opened and some of the guys were being rowdy at Backdraft in greeting.
“Oh, shit! It really is a fuckin’ party,” he declared.
“Yeah, buddy! You were the only hold-out this time.”
“Youngblood! Good to see you, man.” I let go of his arm so he could go around hugging and whatnot.
“Yo, who’s the chick?” Angel asked and I frowned and realized it must be his twin. My suspicion was confirmed when Angel nudged his way in behind me.
“Shit, went to the bathroom and look what I missed.”
“Hi,” I said laughing and gave him a quick hug.
“Boys, this is Lil. Lil, meet the guys.”
“Hi,” I said again, much louder, and gave a shy wave.
Oh, my god. There were like a dozen of them! I didn’t know how I would remember them all. I mean there was Yale and Angel who I’d met already, and Golden would be easy to remember because he was Angel’s twin brother. Then there was Blaze, who had used my bathroom at my apartment, and then a whole host of new faces!
Narcos and Driller looked the roughest out of everyone, and Backdraft whispered in my ear it was because Narcos was full-time undercover and Driller also had to be from time to time. Reflash came out from the kitchen to meet me briefly, and Skids was behind the bar. Then there was a muscular, bald, black man they called Oz, and another youngish, police officer called Poe, who was related to Edgar Allen Poe, which is how he got his name.
We chatted for a while before one of the guys, Oz, kicked out a chair and told Backdraft to cop a squat. I kissed him goodbye and said it was nice meeting everyone and went back out to the girl’s table, where they were all laughing at whatever Pasquale had said. I smiled and rejoined them just as the food we’d ordered arrived.
I looked back to the fishbowl and caught Backdraft watching me. He winked and I was suffused with warmth and good feeling. My spirits buoyed by his surprise arrival, I had a damn good night, even if it was back to work for him in the morning. It was made even better when he took the car back to my place with us.
29
Backdraft…
I was antsy, eagerly awaiting Lil’s arrival. I didn’t want her home alone when the interview aired tonight, and the crew seemed cool with pulling a do-over on dinner, so that’s what we did: invited my lady to dinner at the firehouse. She arrived much as she had the first time, though when she stepped out of the back of the car I was pleasantly surprised.
Instead of her typical jeans, boots, and a nice sweater, she’d done her hair and makeup, and a clinging sweater-dress that accentuated every curve in a bright cream hugged her body. I could even swear it shimmered when she walked towards me. Her high-heeled brown boots that came over the knee clacked sharply against the pavement.
Down, boy, I thought at my sudden and raging erection but I knew the futility of it.
“You look incredible,” I said low, my voice full of heat, and bowed to kiss her perfectly-glossed and sparkling lips. She wore this lip gloss stuff that the color took an act of God to remove and all she had to do was keep reapplying the clear glossy topcoat to bring it back to life. Whoever invented the shit needed a Nobel Prize, I’m telling you.
“Hey, you,” she said gently, softly smiling.
“Ready to do dinner with the crew, take two?” I asked.
Her smile grew and she nodded happily and I gave her my arm. We went inside and I fucking loved following her up the stairs, her hips swaying that ass in front of me like a pendulum and holy shit, I was firmly under her spell, hypnotized into happy by just her being here.
She was warmly greeted by the crew and that made me both love and appreciate the people around me even more. It was the Captain’s night to cook and he was hard at it in the kitchen. Lil stepped over and asked if there was anything she could do to lend a hand and I took her coat and purse, which I had failed to do downstairs. He put her to work, and I leaned on a counter nearby to talk and just generally sucked up all the warmth and good vibes we had going on.
Midway through the meal, Lil and I facing the living area this time, Barnaby sounded the alarm.
“Hey, yo, yo, it’s on!”
The Captain picked up the remote by his plate and unmuted the TV.
“There has been quite the scandal surrounding your relationship after Celebrity Beat’s scorching interview with your girlfriend, Victoria Russo.”
Lil’s head came up sharply and she chewed slowly, carefully, riveted to the television set.
I set the record straight, that’s for sure. Her back straightened when the text logs from my phone company came out. The studio had done a good job recreating screen captures of them, even though my phone had been obliterated and the messages had been lost. My new phone started buzzing across the table, my brother’s name on the screen. I’d already had a conversation with him and my parents after the first show had aired with all the dirty pictures.
Of course, it’d been more like an ass-chewing from my brother about not calling them and giving them the heads-up. I rejected the call and shot a text back.
Not now, with Lil.
My asshole brother surprised me and shot back, Good deal. Proud of you. Mom and dad, too.
Okay, so maybe he wasn’t as much of an asshole as I’d first declared. I know my folks had been worried and so it made me feel pretty good that things were calmed down on the home front. With everything happening in the here-and-now in Indigo City where I was located, unfortunately my immediate biological family, and even my club, had taken more of a back seat. I figured part of that was still a symptom of Torrid. They’d all hated her and I’d been a stubborn shit and wouldn’t give up when I really should have put that relationship out to pasture.
As a result, most of them had done the right thing, which was to step off and let me make my mistakes and crash. As soon as the crash had happened, they’d stepped back in, which I’d needed, but when it came to this new thing, with Lil, I’d gone back to some old habits; I had cut everyone out. I recognized it now, I didn’t want to hide Lil or keep her my secret. There was no shame in my relationship with Lil like there’d been with Tori, so I was determined to redirect my course and make things right with everyone. Just, one thing at a time. I let them all know I wanted to settle into a new normal with her, establish a routine over the next few weeks before we ventured out and started meeting family and shit.
I’d already remedied the club situation, which was geographically easier, the night before last.
Lil trained glassy storm-swept eyes on me and I smiled, all thoughts of the tangled mess of club, family, workmates and the aftermath of Torri swept clear out of my head when she blew me away with the gratitude in that gaze of hers. Still, I needed to check…
“Hope you’re not mad at me,” I said softly.
“Mad at you? Why would I be mad at you?” she demanded. She sniffed and dabbed beneath one eye with the back of her knuckle, trying to keep her careful makeup intact.
“I put a lot more about us out there than I really wanted to,” I said.
She smiled and it was bursting with pride. “I don’t know,” she said. “Sounded to me like you spun one epic love story. Couldn’t have written it better myself.”
The table broke out into laughter and a chorus of ‘Awe’s, and I couldn’t be mad or even start to feel embarrassed because I held onto Lil, who was holding onto me like she never, ever, wanted to let me go.
“Think it’s time to let ol’ Ackley off the hook,” Captain Walden said, and there was a chorus
of agreement around the table.
I nodded and said, “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
“I don’t want to go back to my old house, I like it here,” the new guy, Rice, called out and we all laughed.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Barnaby said.
“Me, either,” Lind agreed.
Her radio crackled to life on her shoulder and she and Angel exchanged a look.
“They’re singing our song,” Angel said with a sigh.
“Let’s roll,” Lind said, and they got up.
“Keep your plates for you,” the Captain said, and got up himself to get the cling wrap for them.
Lil let me go and leaned back into a proper sitting position in her own seat. People resumed eating, laughing, mostly at Torrid’s expense, and Lil worked on fixing her runny makeup some by wiping it away from beneath her eyes with her napkin, laughing at the gentle ribbing she got from some of the guys.
My phone started blowing up a second later. Torrid. I just ignored her. She was old news, anyway. I looked at the TV, which was in the middle of a commercial break, and thought to myself, So five minutes ago, and laughed at my own joke.
It felt like life was about to get a whole lot better from here on out; Victory, for once, was mine when it came to her. It was like she hadn’t thought I might actually fight back in some way. I may have patience, I may put up with a lot of bullshit from her, but once I really realized that I didn’t have to, it was game over. Once I met Lil and realized that wasn’t how any of the whole love and relationship needed to be, that you shouldn’t have to fight, that it really could be as natural as breathing, she’d completely lost any hold she may have ever had on me.
I looked at Lil now, and I couldn’t imagine ever going back to anything less. Life was just so much better with her in it.
This is real. This is what love really is.
30
Lilli…
He’d been absolutely perfect on that show. He had been cool, calm, and collected the entire time, never losing his temper. The only evidence of his displeasure had been his clenched jaw and the smolder in his eyes. Which, if you didn’t know him, you could completely overlook. He’d been articulate, had backed up his statements with truth, fact, and most importantly, proof. He'd cracked his life like an egg and let it spill over national television for everyone to see.
It was probably one of the most selfless things I’d ever seen anyone do for someone else and he’d done it for me. I loved him, so much that all I could think about was how we could weave each other more completely into the fabric of one another’s lives.
I let myself into my apartment and closed the door, Jaspar and Marigold trotting out from their hiding places to greet me. I smiled, they weren’t fooling me; they wanted fed. I rushed through opening them a can of wet food and portioning it out between their two plates, my mind working a mile a minute and jumping between things I needed to do like a hummingbird on crack.
Mostly, I really thought about what I knew was important to Backdraft, and, of course, the first thing to come to mind was his beautiful old brownstone, so full of potential. I picked up my phone from where I rested it on the counter and committed completely to what I was about to ask.
I called him. He picked up on the third ring.
“Hey, babe. Sorry, you caught my hands in a sink full of dishes. You home okay?”
“Safe and sound,” I said.
“I miss you already,” he said and I felt my smile grow.
“Feeling is mutual,” I told him and sighed.
“Uh-oh, that was a big sigh, what’s going on in that gorgeous head of yours?”
“I want to ask you something, but at the same time, I’m a little scared to.” I moved from the kitchen and traveled slowly up the hallway toward my room, mostly to get away from the sounds of my kitties noshing on their food.
“Shoot, babes. You can ask me anything, you know that.”
“I want to do something meaningful, something with us, for us,” I said and I could hear the smile in his voice with what he said next.
“I like the sound of that. Any ideas what you want to do?”
“I’d really like to help with your brownstone. I know you said that you were doing the renovations by yourself and that money has been the main obstacle holding you back…” I sighed again, frustrated. “You know, for an author, you’d think I would have the words and articulate this much better!”
He laughed and said, “Relax, babes. Take a deep breath. It’s your nerves getting in the way, and they shouldn’t, because I’m liking what I’m hearing so far, if it’s where it’s going where I think it’s going.”
“If you think it’s going that I want to help build your house into our home, then, yes,” I said, bouncing nervously on the balls of my feet. “I don’t mean hire a bunch of contractors to do it, I mean take our time and do it ourselves. I mean, obviously, there are probably some things we’ll need contractors for, but I’m saying I want to build a life with you.”
“Thank fuck, because I never want to spend another day without you, and what you’re offering is pretty much all I’ve ever wanted in a partner in life.”
“Yeah?” I asked, voice breaking with emotion.
He laughed slightly and said, “Yeah, Lil. I meant it. Us. Always.”
“I love you,” I murmured.
“I love you, too.”
“So, when do we start?”
“You know my schedule, baby. I get off Friday morning. I think, for now, the best thing is for you to work from the condo while I’m stuck here at the firehouse, but if you can meet me at the brownstone Friday, we can work on it during the day and be home to feed the kitties at night.”
“I like that plan,” I said softly.
“I just like planning things with you. Feels good,” he said.
“It does,” I said with a laugh, much lighter for not being on the verge of more emotional tears anymore. I was so glad, so grateful that he felt the same and wasn’t insulted about using my money to get us going. There were so many men who weren’t so easy-going about the kind of money I was worth. Some were resentful, some were all too happy to spend it for me; Backdraft had never made a thing about it. He’d always either paid or went halfsies, but never once bore a grudge where my net worth was concerned.
We talked about smaller things, that were still no less important, as I changed and got ready for bed until he asked me, “You’re sure you’re good with how much I said on that show?” I could hear his nerves shining through with the question and smiled.
“Absolutely,” I murmured. “You did beautifully, you didn’t overshare but didn’t hold back in confronting what had been overshared already. Not to mention, you looked really hot up there.”
He laughed and I smiled, glad I could make him.
“Shit, I’ve got to go,” I pouted, listening to the grating alarm in the background. “Be safe!” I told him as a farewell.
“You know it,” he said and the call ended.
I smiled and lowered the phone and moved about my closet and bathroom, putting up what I’d worn and getting the makeup off my face, generally just getting ready for bed.
The next few weeks flew by as we settled into a new routine. I would work from home while he was at work at the firehouse and it was nicely motivating for me to get my self-imposed daily word count in. If I didn’t, I would have to cut my nightly conversation with Backdraft short, and if I didn’t he certainly would. He was so incredibly supportive and motivating and it was like we fueled one another, sparking a drive in each other to be the very best versions of ourselves we could be.
It was Thursday and I had blown through my word count for the day, partially the night before and the rest early this morning, so that I could meet with one of the contractors and with an interior-design firm about my very own secret-squirrel project at the brownstone.
Backdraft and I decided to work our way from the top down, and the first step had been deciding together what the b
edroom and bathroom that were already accomplished would look like. Our first weekend working on the brownstone had been deciding those things, giving the top floor a finished and polished look.
The second floor we’d started dreaming about that weekend, too. The next weekend we had started in on it. There were two rooms on the second floor. The front room we had decided to make into a library and reading room, while the room toward the back, overlooking the back garden, we’d decided would be my office.
I’d called the contractor for the basement, though. Upon further inspection, I’d realized from the outside that something wasn’t right. The basement wasn’t actually the basement at all, but rather the ground floor, but I could have sworn there was something about a basement in the paperwork Backdraft had shown me on the place.
I was really excited now, because I’d been right. The windows of the first floor had been bricked up and there was a basement below it. In talking to some of the neighbors, I’d discovered this was a Prohibition thing, that the building did indeed have basement levels that were actually old, narrow garages meant for horse-drawn carriages; there was even a curb cut in front of each one. They’d been bricked up for a speakeasy to be put in down there. It was a huge renovation project, but I had the money to open them all up and I aimed to do just that.
The ground floor would then become Backdraft’s man-cave, while the basement would become a functional garage for his motorcycle and tools. Meanwhile, I could be guilt-free about taking up the entire second floor for office and library space.
The top floor would remain our bedroom suite, plus the guest room, while the first floor would be living, dining, and kitchen, the front door leading down the front steps and out onto the street, and the back door out to the small terrace and down into the garden. When the ground floor/basement renovation was through, the ground floor, or man-cave, would also open up out into the back yard.
He had no idea about my plans expanding to the whole building, but I didn’t want him to build his own man-cave space. I wanted to do that for him and this, this was a lot more than he was going to be able to take on. He may be good at contracting, after all, that’s what his brother did, carpentry and construction work. Still, he’d told me where his skills ended and the professionals needed to be called in, and this was only his second passion. His first and foremost would always be firefighting.
