Burn Me Anthology

by Shantel Tessier

  "Don't act like you went home alone." I shake my head, peering around his bedroom once again. "Which of his buddies did you go home with? Please tell me it wasn't the goofy looking one with that stupid tribal band tattoo."

  "Hey, now, don't knock the tribal band. There's nothing wrong with a little ink." She went home with the goofy tattoo guy. What was his name again? Marco? Or was that Jason? Fuck it, it takes too much brain power to remember who was who.

  "I agree, so long as the person doing the inking doesn't purposely mess up and make it look like he had little tiny dicks wrapped around his arm." Tori's laughter fills the line, and I can't help myself and join in. There's a lot about the night I'm starting to remember, including the fire that burned between Wade and me from the start.

  Tori's right. I need to stop acting like a prude, but it's hard to turn it off. It's become a sort of defensive mechanism, keeping me from getting my heart trampled. Which has happened more often than I'm willing to admit.

  Although, I've never felt a connection like the one I have with Wade, which scares me. I don’t tell Tori any of this, because if I do, my best friend will tell me to hang up the phone, walk back into the kitchen, and claim my man.

  My man.

  The thought sends shivers throughout my body.

  But that isn't right. He isn't mine.

  We just met.

  Even if he did feel the same connection, he's out of my league.

  "Vivi, Jason just walked back in. I'll be home later," Tori says hurriedly, pulling me away from my wandering thought.

  "I'm not at home," I tell her, and I hear a shocked gasp from her end. "I'm still here, with Wade. I'll text you when I get home, if I don't see you first."

  "Damn, girl, maybe I should take back the comment about being a prude," she exclaims, sounding impressed, but I try not to care. "Be cool and remember to wrap his tool."

  "Oh, my god, Tori, what am I going to do with you?" I shake my head, holding back my laughter. The last thing I need to do is encourage the woman. "It's not like that."

  "I love you, Vivi, but I’ve got to go," she says before squealing with laughter and disconnecting the call. Grateful she didn't catch that last part, I place my phone onto the dresser and study myself in the in mirror hanging on the wall above it.

  I lift my hands and attempt to run my fingers through the mess that sits on top of my head, but it's pointless. Taking a deep breath, I straighten the large T-shirt, loving the way it hides the parts of me I'm not happy with. The fabric is soft against my skin and smells like sandalwood and spice, the same scent I woke up to. I glance over at the dress I wore last night and contemplate putting the thing back on. I need to if I want to go home.

  A gentle knock, and then Wade's voice comes from the other side of the bedroom door. I freeze, listening to my heart thump loudly in my chest. "Vivienne, is everything okay?"

  I take a deep breath and release it softly and slowly. I open my mouth to answer, but my phone pings, and I glance down at it.

  Jeffery.

  I unlock my phone again, this time pulling up the text messages he's sent. They start at five-thirty this morning, and since then they've progressed from concern to outright anger. His current text all but firing me.

  "I'll be out in a moment!" I call out to Wade and pull his T-shirt over my head. I need to get home and get ready to go into work. I message Jeffery back with an apology and reassure him that I will be there soon.

  After pulling on my dress and heels, I make one more attempt at my hair, but without a hairbrush, there isn't much I can do. Instead, I embrace the bedhead and fluff it. Smoothing down my dress once more, I turn and leave the safety of Wade's bedroom, praying like hell my stomach doesn't ruin the rest of the day for me.

  Chapter 5

  Vivienne

  I find Wade in the same place I left him, sitting at the bar, our breakfast now cold.

  "I'm sorry, Wade, but I've got a work thing and need to get going." I clutch my purse tightly in my hands and watch his face fall. "I'm going to call an Uber. If I could give me your address to give them, I'll get out of your hair."

  "I'll take you home." He pushes away from the counter, sets down his empty mug, and moves past me toward his bedroom. "Let me change."

  "You don't have to do that," I say, but he ignores me. "I don't want to inconvenience you."

  He stops in the middle of his hallway and turns back around to face me. "Have dinner with me."

  "Have dinner with you?" I respond robotically. These are not words I imagined falling from his lips. My mouth hangs open, as my brain is slow to process his words. How can he want dinner with me? He's gorgeous, and I'm...

  "You're beautiful," he whispers, leaving me flushing all over my body. I swallow hard.

  "I can't. I have a show tonight."

  "The gallery?" He lifts an eyebrow before crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

  "Yes," I nod. Another piece of last night's conversation falls into place.

  "Tomorrow, then?"

  "I have a shift at the center tomorrow," I explain. Along with my job at the gallery, I work at the local community center's after school program. It's my turn to host our weekly late-night study session. A few of the kids are planning to take the SATs with hopes of college in their future.

  "Lunch?" He smiles like a Cheshire cat ready to pounce on his prey.

  "Wade..."

  "Do you want to see me again, Vivienne?"

  "I-I don't know," my words are honest. He watches me carefully, and I see the disappointment he's struggling to hold back. "I was really drunk last night, and the girl you met, that isn't me on any given night. I don't know where she came from, but I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed when you realize the truth."

  "The truth?"

  "I'm not the girl you met last night in that bar," I attempt to explain, but he pushes off the wall and stalks toward me. I take a step back, and then another. He stops inches from me the moment my back hits a wall.

  He lifts his hands, placing them on either side of the wall, pinning me in place. I might not sleep around, but I have a healthy sexual appetite when I know my partner is committed to me only. Despite the sexual tension between Wade and me, last night was a fluke, and knowing myself, the only reason I acted on it so wantonly was because of the natural connection between us.

  "No, you're not that girl. I get it, babe, but you need to get me." He leans in, so close I think he's going to kiss me, but he doesn't. He stops right before our lips touch. I can't help myself. I groan, frustrated, remembering what his lips felt like on mine. "This is going to happen."

  "It is?" I squeak, feeling a weakening in my knees. He must sense the effect he has on me, because he places one knee in between my legs, giving me support and further pushing me over the edge the moment it connects with my center.

  "Tonight, after your show, we're having dinner. I'm in this for the long haul, not a one-night stand." He pulls away and places his face at the crook of my neck. His hot breath on my skin sets me off like a rocket. I’m unable to concentrate on his words. My body feels like it's on fire. "Nod your head, Vivienne. Tell me you get me."

  I nod my head, but I'd likely agree to anything at this moment. Having him so close, teasing me with his strong thigh against my throbbing clit, and his lips brushing lightly against my skin, I'm surprised I'm not a melted mess of woman puddled at his feet.

  "Now, I'm going to go get dressed and take you home, so you can get ready for your show." He lifts his head and looks me in the eyes. Taking my hand, he places a phone in it. "Be a good girl and program your number into my cell. Do the same with mine into yours, and when you're done for the night, I'll pick you up."

  Closing my hand around the phone, he kisses me softly on the lips and turns away before I can take my next breath. I watch him walking down the hallway, wishing I were brave enough to follow.

  Chapter 6

  Wade

  When my phone finally pings, it takes every o
unce of self-control not to run to it like some inexperienced school-aged boy. But I've been on pins and needles since dropping her off this morning.

  As I cross the room, it sounds again. This time, though, it isn't a text alert, and it isn't my phone sounding off. It's the police scanner I keep on when I'm home.

  "Code 10-70, Code 10-70, location Fisher and Pond, call in reports active fire alarm and live sprinkler system," Nan's voice, monotone and alert, fills the room, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

  Fisher and Pond? That's where—my heart skips a beat as the location dawns on me. Vivienne's gallery is off Fisher and Pond.

  Remembering my phone, I unlock it and load my text messages. There's a message from her.

  Vivi: Won't be able to make dinner tonight. Raincheck?

  I hang my head, trying to determine if she's trying to get out of dinner with me, or if the call has something to do with the gallery. I pick up my phone and dial dispatch. Nan picks up on the second ring.

  "Dispatch." I can hear the familiar hum of machines and alerts in the background. I know my guys as well as the other emergency services are already on their way to the scene.

  "Nan, it's Wade. What's going on?"

  "Wade, aren't you off duty tonight? Listening to the scanner again?" She doesn't sound surprised to hear my voice on the other end. I've called in the past, but never because I was worried about someone.

  "Nan—"

  "You need to find yourself a sweet little piece to keep you from working on your days off—"

  "Nan, I don't have time for this," I snap, struggling to keep some semblance of calm. "Please, just tell me who called in the 10-70 and spare me the lecture."

  "An employee from the art gallery sounding off—" I hang up the phone without letting her finish and grab my jacket before rushing out the door.

  All I can think about is getting to Vivienne.

  ***

  When I pull up to the little gallery downtown, there's a group of people standing in the designated safe zone. I scan through the faces, seeking only one, but it's missing.

  I stop my truck, barely remembering to place it in park before I open the door and run toward the large red fire engine parked adjacent to the building. When I see no flames or smoke, I relax a little bit.

  Scott, the crew member in charge for the night, sees me coming and moves toward me. We meet halfway.

  "Hey, Chief." He nods, placing his clipboard under his arm. I relax a little more at the sight of his clipboard. It means the call is close to being wrapped.

  "What happened here?" I'm almost afraid to ask, since I haven't laid eyes on my goddess yet.

  "Some idiot left through the emergency exit and triggered the sprinkler system." I frown as I reach up to scratch my head. "Witnesses said it was the gallery manager, but we haven't been able to track him down yet."

  "The sprinkler system doesn't just go off like that," I surmise, and he nods in agreement. "Are you sure he left before the sprinklers went off?" The look that crosses Scott's face tells me he hasn't quite figured that part out. "Witnesses?"

  "Each one tells it differently, but they all agree he left through the emergency exit."

  "Ticket the gallery owner and let him deal with his employees. Meanwhile, Vivienne Campbell, where is she?"

  I watch his eyes move toward the open gallery door, "She's inside with Dan, assessing the damage. Why?"

  "No reason." I give him a nod, turn, and walk away, heading directly into the gallery and to my woman.

  Chapter 7

  Vivienne

  "Any other damage?" Dan, the from the fire crew asks. His eyes haven't left my breasts, and I shake my head.

  What is it with men and breasts?

  "Just every piece in the room," I tell him for the third time since we began our walkthrough. It's true. Every piece hanging on the walls suffers damage from the sprinkler system, and Jeffery is nowhere to be found.

  The show featured a group of local artists, a group I've been fighting to have in the gallery since I became Jeffery's assistant. I share the position with Christine, the nervous mess I sent home when the fire department arrived. She was on the verge of a mental breakdown; the stress of everything was too much for her, so I'm left to deal with everything on my own. Even finding a ride. She picked me up this afternoon to help cover my real reason for not coming in this morning.

  Jeffery is going to kill me.

  "Right," Dan murmurs, pretending to write what I said down on the notepad in his hand. "I'll need you to make a detailed list for our report and your insurance information."

  "Information regarding the artwork featured tonight and the artists, I can give you that information, but the rest you will have to get from my boss, Jeffery Astor." I cross my arms against my chest but quickly unfold them as I watch his eyes widen at the movement.

  "Do you have a number we can use to reach your boss?"

  "As I said earlier, I've already given you that information." I take a deep breath. "If you'd stop staring at my breasts and pay attention to the words coming from my mouth, we'd be done here, and I could stop repeating myself."

  Dan's eyes move from my breasts to my face, widening with the action. I didn't want to call him out, but I’m over being ogled for the night. His mouth flops open, like he's going to respond, but he ultimately closes it without saying anything. It's pointless to deny what he was so blatantly doing.

  "Are we done here?" I cock out a hip, ready to lock up for the night, and head home to kick off my shoes. I've been running since I got here at noon. Every time things started running smoothly, Jeffery would throw a wrench into the mix, essentially fucking it all up again.

  Dan nods, and I turn and walk away, heading toward the main office. I need to try calling Jeffery again, and if I'm unable to reach him, I have to call Mr. Thompson, the gallery owner.

  "Vivienne." The voice causes my aching feet to stutter in their step, and I almost slip on the wet floor. I turn my head, catching sight of him, and for the first time since he dropped me off this morning, the world quiets.

  Wade.

  I turn course and walk straight into his arms.

  "Are you all right?" he asks, wrapping his arms tightly around me. I feel his fingers thread into my hair.

  "I am now," I whisper, burying my nose into his neck, inhaling his comforting scent. "What are you doing here?"

  "I heard the call on my police scanner and was worried about you," he explains, placing a gentle kiss on the top of my head. "Are you dealing with this alone?"

  "Yes, but I was about to try calling Jeffery again. He was here earlier, before the shit hit the fan. I don't know where he went."

  "Babe, he did this." He pulls back and looks me square in the eye. "There are witnesses, and while a few details remain unclear, he's the culprit behind all of this."

  "Why would he do that?" I ask, truly disbelieving the words coming from his mouth. "It couldn't have been Jeffery. It doesn't make any sense. He knows what was riding on this night being a success."

  "Your success."

  Those two words turn my world upside down. He’s right.

  This showing wasn't about how well Jeffery could handle things. It was about me and how well I dealt with it all. It wasn't Jeffery's idea to give me this event. It was Mr. Thompson’s, and a promise he made when I first interviewed and he learned how close I was to graduation. This event was a sort of a graduation gift.

  "I need to call Mr. Thompson." I step out of his embrace and walk into the office. "I need to tell him what's happened. Maybe he knows how to reach Jeffery."

  "I doubt it. Besides, Jeffery is going to face some legal issues when we find him. If we find him."

  "If?" I sit in the large black executive chair and pick up the phone to dial Mr. Thompson.

  "He knew what he was doing. What he was risking. There's a hefty fine for setting off the sprinkler system and pulling the fire alarm." He sits in the chair across from me and waits. "He could even f
ace charges."

  "Damn, that's heavy."

  "It's nothing compared to the damage he's caused tonight," he states, leaving me a little shocked that he noticed the damage, but Dan still didn't understand even after the third time telling him. "Why don't you let me call your boss while you gather your things?"

  "Wade, I can't leave the gallery like this. Everyone's artwork—"

  "Let Mr. Thompson deal with this shit. You've done more than enough tonight, and the insurance won't speak with you anyway." I glance down at the phone, tempted to hand it over to him and let him make the call, but it doesn’t feel like the right thing to do.

  "It will only take a few minutes. We have a crew I can call to come in and clean up the water mess, but you're right about the insurance company. Mr. Thompson can deal with the whole Jeffery situation himself." I begin to dial the number I've memorized over the last few months. Looking into Wade's eyes, I say the words, because I feel guilty for what's transpired tonight. "I'm sorry about dinner."

  Clark Thompson picks up the line after only one ring, making it impossible for Wade to respond. Instead, he sits and waits patiently for me fill Mr. Thompson in on tonight's events. And at the end of it all, I'm more than ready to call it a night.

  But I have a feeling that if Wade gets his way, I won't be going home tonight.

  ***

  Wade got his way.

  I'm too exhausted to put up much of a fight for my own bed. As good as it sounds, Wade's sounds better. Still feeling the effects of my hangover, I try to ignore the way my head throbs and my body aches.

  "Are you hungry?" Wade asks, opening the door to his ranch-style home. I move past him, kicking off my heels the moment I clear the threshold.

  "No, not really," I respond, wiggling my toes at him. "Do you know how good it feels to kick those fucking shoes off?"

  He answers me with a chuckle, and I follow him into the kitchen. He pulls a bottle of Jack from the cupboard and offers me a glass. My stomach rolls, warning me against it. I shake my head, and he smiles knowingly.