by Reina Torres
“Well, it’s your funeral.”
By the time Pilar was starting on the roasted homestyle potatoes that came with her veggie omelet, Vitalia had polished off a short stack of pancakes and was working her way through a hearty breakfast platter and her second cup of coffee.
The waitress came by with a couple of apple turnovers and set them down on the last little bit of space on their table.
Pilar started to wave her away, but the waitress shook her head and smiled. “From Peggy Ann. She’s a big fan of Vitalia’s appetite.” With a wink, the waitress stepped away from the table.
Leaning forward against the edge of the table, Pilar tried to form a coherent thought. “Wow,” was all she could muster.
“I’m sorry.” Vitalia leaned in and gave Pilar a lop-sided smile. “I’m not holding you to the ‘buy me a meal’ thing. Growing up around firefighters, I learned to wolf down whatever I could or end up going hungry.”
Pilar’s eyes widened and Vitalia laughed.
“It wasn’t that bad. My mom and dad always made plenty of food, but it was a good lesson early on. When I decided I wanted to go to the Academy and become a firefighter I was already accustomed to the schedule. There’s no way someone can be a dainty eater at the firehouse. It’s just not possible.”
Nodding, Pilar understood. “And I bet you burn a ton of calories on a call.”
Vitalia flattened her hands against the table top and blew out a breath. “Seriously. We were going to eat at the station. One of the Candidates was getting fancy and making a quiche and a veggie scramble when we got a call. Residence fire that jumped from one house to the neighbor’s roof. When we got back to the station house the quiche was a half-curdled mess and a couple of feral cats were lapping up the raw eggs in the mixing bowl meant for the scramble.”
Pilar stared at her friend. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? You volunteered to stay and help Kate move in some of her things. If you’d told me-”
“Then you’d have herded me out to the Jeep and you wouldn’t have had time to ogle the hottie who was ogling you.”
“That’s not...” Pilar picked up her glass of water, lifted it up a few inches and then set it back down, “... not what he was doing.”
Vitalia smacked her lips together and crooked an eyebrow in a pointed gesture. “Not what ‘he’ was doing. So that means you were ogling him!”
Pilar stared at her friend in shock, unsure of what, if anything, she could say to back up the train that was certainly coming her way.
“No, no. Don’t you dare try to weasel your way out of it, girl. You were ogling him.”
“Stop with the ‘ogle,’ Lia.”
There was a momentary pause as Vitalia sat back in her chair, her legs stretching out under the table. “Okay. No more ogle.”
Silence stretched from one heartbeat to ten and just when Pilar had a glimmer of hope that Vitalia was going to drop the subject, the beautiful woman sitting across from her dashed her hopes.
“Eyeball. Gawk. Leer. Oh, that’s a good one. Okay maybe he was doing more leering, like that time he was staring at your ass when you put that box of kitchen items down on the coffee table. Stare?” She shrugged. “Not as good as the others. Gape! Yes, I think your mouth gaped open when he lifted the bottom of his t-shirt to wipe his face. And it’s not like I blame you because no one told me that doctors have abs like that.”
She managed a few more words, some with more dubious connections to the original subject. And really, at that point, Pilar was sorry she’d asked her to leave ogle alone. This was much more of a verbal torture.
Then it came to her. The one subject of conversation that would likely stop Vitalia Campanelli in her verbal tracks.
“So,” Pilar set her fork down with a little clatter of noise, “when was the last time you saw Isaac?”
The look on her friend’s face reminded her of someone who’d run full speed into a glass door. Stunned. Surprised. And then a little pinched. “That’s low. That’s so low.”
Pilar only felt a smidgen of guilt for it. “Fair is fair.”
“That’s not fair. That’s hitting below the belt.”
Shrugging, Pilar took a little sip of water. “Turnabout is fair play, sister.”
Leaning closer, Vitalia’s glare lost some of its edge when her shoulders shook with laughter. “If this is what it’s like to have a sister, I suddenly don’t feel so envious of others anymore.”
Nodding in agreement, Pilar sighed. “If you were one of my brothers you wouldn’t tease me about it, you’d be calling in a favor at the DMV to get the man’s address and then go and threaten him to within an inch of his life.”
Vitalia’s expression was suddenly very thoughtful. “Now that, I could probably enjoy. Hell, I’d be the one doing the threatening.”
Pilar took a sip of water and set down her glass. “So, Isaac.”
Vitalia blushed and that was saying something. “What about Isaac.”
Rolling her eyes, Pilar leaned closer. “Do I need to go and threaten his life?”
The two laughed before Vitalia spoke. “No. He’s still the best ‘big brother’ I have.”
Pilar winced. “That good, huh?”
Vitalia looked down at her overalls and white t-shirt and sighed. “Then again, with all of the baggy stuff I wear, I doubt he even knows I have breasts. So maybe-”
“Okay, seriously, stop that right now. You, my dear friend, are one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. Add to that your kick ass attitude and the fact that you’re a certified hero-”
“Certifiable, maybe.”
A narrowed glare stopped Vitalia for a moment.
“Is he seeing anyone?”
“Seeing? Or sleeping with?” Vitalia’s sigh wasn’t for effect. Pilar could tell that the idea was really upsetting. “He’s always got someone he’s with. Not that he gives it a name, but it feels like every time he comes into Ciro’s, he always leaves with a new woman.”
Pilar bit down on the side of her lower lip. “Maybe you should tell him how you feel?”
Vitalia stared at her like Pilar had grown a second head. “Tell him? Oh, that would be rich.”
“Well, maybe he has feelings for you too.”
Her friend scoffed at the idea. “Sure. Why not? I bet he’s just really good at hiding it. Let’s see... what was it he said the last time I gave him a beer on the house?” Vitalia stared up at the ceiling tiles and the fancy toothpicks that the long-time patrons had embedded into it. “That’s right,” she leveled her gaze at Pilar, and Pilar could see the tight pinch of skin at the corners of Vitalia’s mouth. “He said, ‘You’re the best, Lia. You’re such a good friend.’”
Pilar tried to think of a way to spin the words, but Vitalia cut her off.
“Friendzoned. The man I’ve been in love with since I was sixteen thinks I’m a ‘good friend.’ If I play my cards right, maybe I’ll be one of his groomsmen someday when he gets married.”
“Okay, that’s it.” Pilar reached across the table and took Vitalia’s hand. “I’m sorry I brought him up. Let’s just agree not to talk about the hot guys in our lives and finish eating. Those apple turnovers look sinfully good.”
Vitalia nodded and nudged the plate over so Pilar could pick one up with her fingers. It was warm, perfectly so, and it was less than an inch from her lips when Vitalia cocked her head to the side and twisted her lips into a smug smile. “So, you do think he’s hot!”
5
Overnight shifts were… interesting. Full moons made it even more so. So many people would say that it didn’t matter, but those people didn’t have to answer 911 calls.
Pilar didn’t mind working on those nights, everyone had to, but there were limits to her indulgence of people who thought it was humorous to act like fools.
When Crois pulled up to the curb in front of Ciro’s Bar, she braced herself for what they were about to find.
It was no secret in Center City that Ciro’s was one of th
e places where you could trip over a firefighter. Founded by a firefighter after Prohibition lifted, it had become the go-to bar for fire eaters ever since.
It wasn’t usually a rowdy place unless it was a big sports night, but the full moon mixed with a bachelorette party had thrown the balance of a fun bar into chaos.
The first moments inside the bar made Pilar reconsider her stance on working a full moon shift.
There were a few people on the far end of the bar by the windows, their eyes on the televisions above the bar or studiously away from the mess in the middle of the room. A few tables were overturned, chairs too. The mass of destruction was centered in what could be considered the dance floor. There were more than a handful of inebriated women in various stages of dress, or undress as the case may be. She really had no idea what they’d had on when they came in.
The good thing was that she knew Patrick McGillis, the Manager at Ciro’s, had an excellent CCTV system recording most of the bar for occasions such as this.
“CCPD! Everyone back away!” Pilar focused her gaze on the woman wearing the red satin sash with the words BRIDAL BABE glittering in gold. “Ma’am. I need you to let go and step back.”
She had her hand fisted in the shirt of a man who wanted nothing to do with her wide-eyed and wired antics. He had his hands in the air above his head, his eyes on Pilar. Poor guy hadn’t expected this kind of trouble.
The Bride hadn’t moved. She still had a tight hold on his shirt and given the smeared mascara under her eyes and the short punctuated breaths, she wasn’t about to listen to any kind of sense.
Still, Pilar had to try.
“Ma’am, I-”
The Bride shrieked. “I’m no ma’am!”
There goes the respectful approach.
“Miss? I-”
“I,” she turned her glaring eyes on Pilar and the smell rolling off of the Bride was enough to tell Pilar that she’d pop over the legal limit on alcohol, “am ‘the BRIDE!’”
“Let him go. Now!”
“Let him go?”
Pilar saw chaos coming a mile away. The look on her face, the tension in her arm. The woman who was likely a darling little sweetheart when she wasn’t under the influence of alcohol and Bridezilla rage, wasn’t going to make this easy.
The instant she started to pull the man toward her, Pilar stepped between them. She laid her palm over the back of the Bride’s hand and pressed her thumb into the radial fossa, pushing deep enough to trigger a release of muscle control.
As soon as the Bride’s fingers released the shirt, Pilar took a step back to put distance between them. And that was when the Bride grabbed a hold of Pilar’s bun and yanked.
It didn’t take more than a heartbeat to hit the floor, but she knew she had to focus on the woman trying to tear her hair out. She saw and heard enough to know that Crois was taking charge of the other women.
Like a movie car chase, they rolled over a few times before coming to rest at the base of a barstool. A quick dodge to the side got Pilar out from under her wrestling partner. She didn’t waste time trying to get her up off the floor. No, the Bride was better where she was, so Pilar swung a leg over her prone body and ended up straddled across the woman and her white satin dress.
They were close enough that Pilar could tell that the bride had pads under her clothes to make her butt as curvy as it was.
The party goers were much more subdued than they had been a moment before. Most of the women were staring at their ‘leader’ in shock. Two of them were sobbing for some reason, and another one was rapidly typing on her phone.
Pilar hoped it was to the bachelor who might want to bail out his fiancé. Eventually.
As Crois started to corral the women to one corner of the room, Pilar turned to look at the man who had been in Bridezilla’s clutches. “Are you okay?”
He winced and looked to see who was close to him before he leaned forward and whispered to her. “She grabbed my nuts right before. She wanted me to dance with her.”
“Well,” Pilar winced at the idea, “that’s one hell of an invite.”
He shrugged. “I’m just glad you guys showed up. I’ll stay as long-”
“Get off of me!” The Bride raged and kicked her feet, sending one shoe flying at the man’s face.
“Whoa!” He stepped back, and then again.
“Yeah,” she waved him off. “Step back, I’ll get to you as soon as I cuff her.”
“Cuff me?”
Pilar couldn’t see it, but she had a feeling that the onerous Bride had gotten her hands under her. She bucked like a bronco into the air, likely trying to get free, but Pilar had been on her share of horses during her childhood in Texas.
There wasn’t a saddle horn in front of her, so she had to grab what she could... a whole handful of butt-pad and satin.
“No! Let go! Let go!”
“Sit still!” Pilar flattened her palm on the Bride’s padded backside.
“Get off me!”
Turning a little to the side, she looked over her shoulder at the irate woman on the floor. “You need to be quiet. You need to be still. I need to get this whole scene under control and you’re not helping!”
For a moment it looked like the woman was going to spit at her and then instead of spitting, she spit something else out. “Marla!”
Pilar turned her head and narrowed her eyes at the woman. “What did you say?”
The Bride let out a breath that made her arms and legs almost go limp. “Marla. That’s my name.”
“Ah, okay. Well, Marla. Do you think you could manage not to grab anyone again if I let you up from the floor?”
Her whole expression seemed to crumble and her lower lip, which was missing half of her lipstick, pouted out. “I’m going to jail, aren’t I?”
“There’s property damage to the bar tables and chairs. There’s at least one person injured-”
“Oh my God!” She began to wail. “I’m going to jail!”
Standing up, Pilar caught Crois’s shocked stare.
His gaze moved to the sobbing bridezilla on the floor and back to her.
She waved him off. She’d explain later. First thing first. She needed to get the woman up off of the floor and sat down in a chair before she became even more of a distraction than she already was.
Surprisingly, it was the man whose balls Marla had threatened before, who helped Pilar pick her up off of the floor. When she looked at him, wondering why, he answered her unasked question.
“I can’t stand to see someone cry.”
“Aww... look at the candidate. Playing hero.”
The man who walked up had that kind of grin that said he was ready for a good time. The problem was, she didn’t like guys who made fun of people for good behavior.
She was a police officer.
Go figure.
Right?
“Sir, I have to ask you to step back to the other side of the room.”
Her comment shocked him. That much was evident by the way his smile flagged and the tight grip he had on his beer bottle.
“Hey,” he offered, trying his smile again, “I can help too.”
“We’re fine, thank you. Mister-”
Marla was sitting on one of the bench seats along the wall, her hands cuffed in her lap, and the man standing beside her turned back to Pilar.
“Russell Webb. Firehouse Fifty-one. Truck Forty-two.”
He held out his hand and Pilar reached out to shake it.
“Pilar Bravo. Fourth Precinct.” She looked over her shoulder at Crois who was trying to pry one of the crying bridesmaids from his uniform.
The flirtatious firefighter decided this was the opportunity to give his name as well. “I’m Javier Suarez, Pilar. Everyone calls me Halo.”
She didn’t have the time or energy to hold back the snort of laughter that came with her involuntary shrug. “Nice one.”
“Nice one?”
Another man walked over and dropped an arm over Javier’
s shoulders. “I’ll walk him over to the wall. Thanks for coming, Pilar.”
She could tell that Javier didn’t want to go, but he followed along with the other man and before Pilar could think to ask who it was, Russell leaned closer and cleared his throat. “That’s Faust. He’s the Lieutenant who runs Rescue for Fifty-one.”
Oh.
“So that’s Isaac?”
Russell’s smile tilted a little. “Yeah. Have you met him before?”
“Uh, no.” She slid a look over at the bar and saw Vitalia’s not-so-subtle look in her direction. “I must have heard about him somewhere.”
Russell didn’t argue and he didn’t even try to see through her weak explanation. “Yeah, I guess. We’re all pretty close to each other in this area of town.” There was an awkward pause before Russell cleared his throat again. “Would it be okay if I went to the... the bathroom?”
She waved him off. “Go. I’m going to need your statement when you come back.”
He nodded and started to walk away. Two steps away, he turned and headed back. “Look, I’m not going to press charges or anything. There wasn’t any damage.” He looked down at his shirt with a wince. Relaxed and out of Marla’s clutching hands, Pilar could see tears in the fabric, likely from Marla’s decorated nails. “Okay, maybe a little damage. But I’m not interested in putting her in jail. She came in already sloshed. The problem started when Lia wouldn’t serve her any alcoholic drinks. That’s when she tried to get different people to buy them for her and her friends.
“I was going to get them a couple pitchers of soda. That’s when Marla decided I was ruining her party.” With a nod, he gestured toward the bathroom and she waved him off.
“Go.”
Before Russell could walk away, the front door burst open and it took her half a second to realize that the man in the rumpled suit with a crown of condoms on his head was the Groom.
His gaze zeroed in on Russell beside her, his shoulders tensing up.
“That’s him!”
Pilar didn’t have to look to know who was shouting. The bridesmaid who had been texting still had her sparkling Swarovski crystal case in her hand. “That’s the man, Paul!”
