by Amy Knupp
“Why didn’t you call me, Gemma?”
“Why would I?”
“Because I’m your father.”
Scott bit down on a hateful comment, only so he wouldn’t miss any of the conversation.
“Sending Mom child support doesn’t make you a father.”
A lengthy pause came from the other room and Scott imagined his dad doing the guilty weight-shift thing again. “I’m sorry, Gemma. Sincerely. I did wrong.”
“Understatement of the millennium.”
Scott exchanged a look of admiration with Mercedes at the ice in Gemma’s tone. He turned away and nodded once emphatically.
“I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.”
“I didn’t,” she said coldly. “That’s just what a dad is supposed to do. Obviously your children are out of sight, out of mind.”
Scott started toward the living room to back her up, but Mercedes held her hand out and stopped him with a touch to his forearm.
“That’s not fair,” their father said angrily.
“Don’t talk to me about fair.”
“I get it. You’re mad at your mom for kicking you out, and probably me, too. I’m trying to make things right here, or at least to start—”
Scott couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He shot out of the kitchen in a rage.
“You don’t get a damn thing!” he said as he rounded the corner to the living room. “You have no idea what it means to be a parent a kid can rely on. Gemma doesn’t need you. I can’t stand the sight of you.” He opened the door. “Get out.”
The older man scowled at him. “I’ll leave for now. At least I’ve seen her with my own eyes. But I’ll be back.”
“Don’t bother,” Scott said with less volume but just as much hatred. “Out.”
Their father looked at Gemma, but she was paying more attention to her watch.
“Give it some thought, Gemma. You can come home with me instead of staying here…” His glance around said he wasn’t impressed by the environment. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Save yourself the trouble,” she said before Scott could.
Their dad gave Gemma a lingering look that she ignored, then walked out the door. Scott slammed it after him. It didn’t make him feel any better.
“I’m going to be late,” Gemma said, avoiding eye contact with either him or Mercedes, who stood in the kitchen doorway, as she rushed to the hall. She returned within seconds, oversize purse in hand.
Scott was still catching his breath, as if he’d been in a physical battle.
“Let’s go,” Mercedes said to Gemma. She eyed Scott as if she wanted to say something to him, so he stalked into the kitchen and counted the seconds until they left him alone.
He exhaled when the front door closed behind them. The need to crush something pulsed through him. Good thing he couldn’t afford to sacrifice his security deposit, otherwise he’d punch a hole in the flimsy walls.
Without conscious thought, he grabbed the new bottle of whiskey from its spot on top of the refrigerator and unscrewed the top. He opened the cabinet for a cocktail glass—what a convenience to have several clean ones waiting for him for once—and filled it with beautiful amber-liquid fortification.
As he lifted the glass toward his mouth, he froze. He narrowed his eyes at the whiskey as he caught a whiff of the spicy sweetness.
Don’t want to be that guy. Don’t ever want to repeat last weekend.
His hand shaking, he slowly emptied the glass in the sink. Without giving himself the chance to reconsider, he followed suit with the bottle, washing the thing’s entire potent contents down the drain. He strode to the metal waste container and dropped the bottle in, savoring the loud clank of glass on the nearly empty can. Too bad it didn’t shatter.
That chapter was over. He wasn’t going to let his son-of-a-bitch father drive him to finish himself off.
Feeling as if he’d been turned inside out and twisted, he headed for the shower, hoping to cool his anger with icy water instead.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“DID I JUST HEAR WHAT I think I heard?” Rafe Sandoval asked as he and Scott walked out of the emergency department at the hospital toward their ambulance.
“What did you think you heard?” Scott opened the driver’s door and climbed in, feeling as though he weighed three hundred pounds.
Rafe slid in beside him and cranked the air conditioner to High the second Scott started the engine. “Thought I heard the Wicked Nurse of the West say we did everything we possibly could for that guy and that she wouldn’t have done anything differently.”
Scott leaned his head back, the adrenaline of the call wearing off, leaving him drained. “You heard right.”
“Coming from her, that’s huge.”
“Yeah.” He had trouble making himself care about what the nurse had said. It didn’t change the results of the call.
He closed his eyes for several seconds, wishing he could find a dark corner and curl up in a ball. Rafe was the person in the department he was most comfortable with, after working the majority of shifts with him for several years. “It’s shit, isn’t it?”
“What is?” Rafe asked. Both of them stared straight ahead.
Scott shook his head, fighting the black mood that always seemed to be hovering just over his shoulder, waiting for a moment like this to close in on him. “We can do everything by the book, give it our A game, hit the vein the first try, get the tube in right away, and they can still up and die.”
Rafe’s fingers beat a frantic rhythm on his thigh and Scott would bet he was jonesing big-time for a cigarette. He’d given them up cold turkey a week and a half ago. Scott leaned over and opened the glove compartment in front of his partner, glad for the distraction. The pack of gum was still there. He took it out and offered a stick to Rafe.
“Thanks, man.” He stuck the gum in his mouth. “Just got to focus on the fact that we did everything we could and we did it right. Hold on to the ones that do make it. That twenty-year-old girl last week, for example.”
Scott nodded halfheartedly. The twenty-year-old girl meant nothing to the family of the guy they’d just dropped off. That Scott sometimes had better luck on calls—luck was what it was starting to feel like, anyway—wouldn’t make losing him any easier for the family to swallow.
He put the ambulance into gear and started for the station. They had one hell of a mess to clean up in back.
“You ever want to get out?” Scott asked as he drove.
“Every other hour or so.”
“What about the hours in between?”
“That’s when I’m thinking about a smoke so hard I could cry like a girl.”
Scott chuckled and pulled past the fire-station driveway to back in.
“You’ve been doing this for how long?” Scott asked.
Rafe paused, calculating in his head. “Sixteen years, counting Denver. Damn if that doesn’t make me sound old.”
“This job makes me feel old.”
“Some can keep with it. Some can’t.”
The idea that he couldn’t bothered Scott. On paper, he was good, all things considered. Things like statistics and making the right decisions under the gun. And yet, he had to get out. “Wonder why that is.”
“Perspective,” Rafe said confidently. “Big part of it.”
“I must have the wrong damn perspective then.”
“You kidding me? You’re taking the opportunity of a lifetime. What could be better than traveling around the world as the scuba king? If I didn’t have the best wife in the world, I’d tell you to have your buddy set me up with a job on that boat, too.”
It was strange how you could come across someone at just the right time and it could change everything. That was exactly what had happened three months ago. He hadn’t seen Tim Markum, his high school football teammate, since he’d left Houston. Hadn’t even thought of him, as he’d tried to block out memories of anything having to do with his hometown. Though Scott didn
’t frequent the Shell Shack, the bar the majority of the department hung out in regularly, he’d chosen to go there that night—the night Tim happened to be in town. Truth be told, he probably wouldn’t have spoken to Tim if the guy hadn’t talked first. It turned out Tim was a cruise director for one of the largest cruise companies in the world. Scott had mentioned how much he’d like to get away from the island and see the world, and Tim had taken it from there. Scott’s scuba experience and Tim’s connections had sealed the deal.
Thank God.
Twenty-nine more days and he was home free. Done with trauma and death.
* * *
“I NEED SOME OF THAT in my life.” Nadia Hamlin absently stirred her Sandblaster with a straw as she watched a trio of men walk toward the entrance to the Shell Shack.
Mercedes twisted on her bar stool to follow Nadia’s line of sight, then exchanged an amused eye roll with Faith Peligni.
“No,” Faith said, her dark hair falling over her cheek as she shook her head adamantly.
“No?” Nadia frowned with exaggeration. She crossed her arms, drawing Mercedes’s attention to the five rings she wore today. Status quo for Nadia. “Are you challenging me?”
“Absolutely not,” Faith said.
“Challenging you is a sure way to get you to do something,” Mercedes added.
“Maybe.”
Nadia and Faith were Mercedes’s closest friends. Pretty much her only friends, but she was a firm believer that sometimes quality was much more important than quantity.
She’d met them just after her mom died, when she’d moved to the island. It’d been the end of summer, right before her senior year of high school, and Mercedes had been numb and anything but social. These two had sensed she needed a couple of girlfriends more than anything and had been persistent in inviting her to hang out with them. She and Nadia had become roommates in college, while Faith pursued firefighting. They didn’t see each other nearly as often anymore, maybe once a week if they were lucky. When Charlie had suggested Mercedes get out of the house for a couple of hours this evening, she’d called these two—once she’d stopped resisting the idea of leaving her sister in charge.
Now Mercedes joined Nadia in checking out the three men. They were definitely noticeable in a good way, generating plenty of attention from women of all ages as they noisily approached the counter. Mercedes narrowed her eyes as recognition flickered. “They’re firefighters, aren’t they?”
“Bingo.”
Nadia turned her head toward Faith with new enthusiasm. “Which means it’ll be easy for you to introduce me.” She made no secret that she was checking all three of them out as she sipped her conglomeration of alcohol. “I recognize the one on the right.”
“You’ve met him,” Faith said.
“Penn, isn’t it?” Mercedes asked. “From the beach?”
“That’s him. Tie-dyed swim trunks,” she said to Nadia. “That might jog your memory.”
“Ah, yes.” Nadia twirled a strand of blond hair around her finger. “I remember the tie-dye well. Who are the other two?”
“Middle one is Cooper and the other is Dylan, a new hire.”
“Dylan looks too young, Cooper’s okay, but Penn…”
“No.” Faith waved when Cooper turned around and spotted her. “Why bother? It’s not like you ever go out with a guy more than twice.”
“After once or twice, the novelty wears off,” Nadia said sincerely. “You have your firefighter—excuse me, fire captain. Don’t go all selfish on us. Mercedes could use one, too. How long has it been since you’ve gone on a date?”
Mercedes thought for a couple of seconds. “More than a week.”
“More than a year, more like it,” Faith said.
“See? Way past due. Which one do you want?”
Mercedes laughed and shook her head. “None. You guys know I don’t have time.”
“You know,” Nadia started, and Mercedes groaned to herself, guessing where this was going. “It’s admirable that you’re taking care of your grandma. She’s lucky to have you.”
There was a but in her tone and Mercedes took a swallow of her margarita as she waited.
“But don’t you think your grandma feels bad about preventing you from having a life?”
“I have a life. I’m here with you guys, aren’t I?”
“Only because your sister forced you out of the house,” Nadia said.
“I know you guys don’t understand,” Mercedes said. “Gram took me in when I had nobody. I can’t just send her off to some rest home because I want to go out and have a good time.”
“We do understand,” Faith said. “I just wish I had an answer for you, because you can’t give up a social life and, as much as I hate to agree with Miss Social Extreme here, a dating life.”
“Gram won’t be here forever.” Mercedes’s throat swelled up at the thought. “I’ll have plenty of time for myself later.”
“I’m glad you’re taking advantage of your sister’s visit, anyway,” Nadia said.
“I didn’t tell you. Charlie’s moving in with us.”
“What?” Nadia set her drink down hard. “Details, please.”
Mercedes told them what she knew of Charlie’s story.
“It’s great that she’ll be close by,” Faith said. “Isn’t it? If nothing else, maybe you can get out of the house a little more often.”
Mercedes hesitated.
Nadia narrowed her eyes at her. “You can get out of the house more. It will be my mission.”
Mercedes forced a smile. “It’s hard to leave Gram with my sister. She hasn’t been there. She doesn’t know what to do.”
“She can learn.”
“Yeah.” Mercedes nodded halfheartedly. “I guess so.”
“Seems it was a good thing the girl from the shelter is allergic to cats,” Faith said, grinning. “Otherwise, she and your sister might be battling for the spare bedroom.”
“Where did you say she went?” Nadia spoke to Mercedes, smiling across the room at God-knew-who. She was acquainted with just about everyone on the planet, it seemed, and her friends were used to her always having an eye on the rest of the room.
“She convinced her half brother to let her move in.”
“Half brother Scott Pataki,” Faith emphasized to Nadia. “The paramedic.”
“Ooh?” The way she drew out the word was vintage Nadia. She had a thing for men in uniform.
“That’s who you should introduce Nadia to,” Mercedes said jokingly. She ignored the little twinge in her gut at the idea.
“I’m sticking with Penn.”
“Penn isn’t yours to stick with,” Faith said dryly. She addressed Mercedes next. “What do you think of Scott?”
“He’s grumpy, irresponsible and selfish.” Mercedes nodded triumphantly. She wasn’t being fair to him, she knew, but these two would jump to the wrong conclusion if she said anything in the least bit encouraging. Like her belief that he was fighting some personal demons, for instance.
“He’s a good guy,” Faith said. “Maybe going through a rough patch. You said yourself there’s an ugly history between his family and Gemma’s.”
Mercedes nodded and rested her elbows on the table. “His dad made an appearance when I was there to pick up Gemma the other day.” She explained what little she knew about the situation.
“That is messed up,” Nadia said. “He’s got cause to be a little grumpy. Maybe some TLC from a good woman would help.”
Mercedes threw her wadded-up napkin at her friend.
“He’s leaving town, anyway,” she said, then eyed Faith carefully. “I don’t know if that’s common knowledge at his job yet.”
“It is. He’s given his notice. They’ve already hired his replacement.”
“That’s perfect,” Nadia said. “He’s leaving. No strings attached. Have some fun.”
“Not everyone needs to date as much as you seem to,” Mercedes said.
Nadia looked contrite. “You kno
w I’m only half-serious with it. What I am serious about, though, is wishing you could find happiness. You deserve it more than anyone I know.”
Faith nodded and Mercedes, overcome by affection for these two women who’d gotten her through so much, didn’t know what to say.
“And if not long-term happiness, then at least a good time for a few nights.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Faith said. She held her glass up and Nadia followed suit. Mercedes went through the motions just to get them off her case, but she wasn’t feeling it at all.
CHAPTER NINE
MERCEDES DIDN’T REALIZE when she stepped out from between her car and another that she was taking her life in her hands. She jumped back to safety between the parked cars when some moron in a sports car zipped through the parking lot less than five feet from where she’d been.
Her heart still in her throat, she headed across the lot toward Gemma and Scott’s apartment, scowling at the stupid car with its stupid vanity plate that read SHOCKR.
She was only surprised for a second or two when none other than Scott Pataki stepped out of the silver Mazda RX8. Looking smug, he joined her as she walked.
“How old are you?” she muttered without looking straight at him.
“Saw you the whole time. Wasn’t going to hit you.”
“Shocker, huh?” she said.
“Defibrillator? Shocking the patient?”
“I get it. Double entendre much?”
He didn’t answer. Seemed to be absorbed in his thoughts. He wore a frown as they crossed the lot and looked…sad. Which was a change from his usual angry.
“Are you okay?” she asked. As soon as the question was out of her mouth, she realized the odds of him answering were slim. She watched him out of the corner of her eye as they continued walking. When he shrugged, she turned her head fully, wondering if she’d imagined the response. Encouraged, she dared to ask more. “Rough shift?”
He pierced her with a direct hit from those blue eyes then looked toward the ground again. “Some nights it seems like everyone dies.”
