The Heat of Angels

by Lisa Girolami

  Chris leaned forward and kissed her. It was gentle and sweet and spoke of good things ahead.

  Chapter Seven

  “Fire officials are increasing staffing levels and getting resources in place by moving air tankers to bases across the state. In the meantime, seasonal firefighters will be brought into the Angeles National Forest starting this weekend.”

  Sarah watched TV while she waited for Natalie to pick her up. They planned to go to Melrose and shop, but she wasn’t necessarily looking forward to it. Her gut felt tight and broiling again, and she knew what that meant.

  “Fuck.”

  She turned up the TV, hoping she could forget the demons that had returned to visit. But the plight of the animals hit her hard. She understood the terror of a nightmare and the dire search for a way to escape.

  “Fire crews in California have battled more than six hundred eighty wildfires, two hundred more than average for this time of year. Officials say the lack of rain is a big problem. The past winter was the fourth driest in Southern California in a hundred thirty-five years.”

  Her cell phone buzzed and she opened Nat’s text.

  I’m here.

  Sarah turned off the TV and hoped to hell her mood wouldn’t turn fouler.

  *

  The sun always seemed to shine on Melrose Avenue. Sarah imagined that the businesses paid someone to guarantee it. There was certainly enough money changing hands and more influential power than a good day in Congress.

  “You’re in a mood again,” Nat said as they wandered through Fred Segal.

  Sarah frowned. She’d been quiet and voiced more than once that she didn’t like anything in the store. But that’s not what was bugging her.

  “You know that woman I was telling you about? Chris?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I saw her the day after our first date and she was kinda freaked out. She said she never has sex on the first date.” She took a blouse off the rack, barely looked at it, and almost threw it back. “We talked about it, but I spent the morning thinking I’ve blown it with her.”

  “But you said you talked about it.”

  “We did.” She shook her head, at the clothes and especially at the question. “She’s so opposite from me, Nat. She’s responsible and practical.”

  “You’re doing it again.”

  Sarah scowled at her. “Fuck, Nat.”

  “Maybe you need that kind of person.”

  “It’s never worked before.”

  “That’s because you always undermine things.”

  Sarah’s racing frustration was increasing in speed, and she knew the first target to crash into would be Nat. “Why am I shopping here?” She flipped the legs of a pair of pants that hung on another rack. “These things are four hundred dollars. Am I pretentious like this?”

  “You’re anything you want to be.”

  “What the fuck is that, Nat? Am I just a rich kid that needs to feel at home with my peeps?”

  Nat began to laugh.

  “I’m serious.” She pushed Nat’s shoulder.

  “You can’t keep being pissed at the world, Sarah. Do what the heck you want to do. Wear ripped jeans and a dirty T-shirt for all I care.”

  Sarah had held back when she talked to Chris the day before, and she was mad at herself for it. She wanted to tell her how much she liked her and how immediate the attraction was. Chris was the rare butterfly that lands on your hand and it’s so beautiful that all you do is pray it never leaves. Chris represented the opportunity of a real relationship. Sure, their time together had been as brief as the blink of a firefly, but so much more magical. She was standing on the precipice of a chance that her gut knew could be so good and anxious because the edge she stood upon could quickly crumble underneath her in a heartbeat.

  Under it all, though, she was scared she would soon awaken from what had to be a dream. “Let’s get out of here.”

  As they walked down the north side of the street, they poked around in the clothing shops, and Sarah tried to urge her mind to just empty out all thought.

  Nat dragged her into Vivienne Westwood to look for shoes, but Sarah wasn’t that game. She wandered around, looking at the scads of clothing that hung gaunt and lifeless on their hangers, as if they were designed not for skinny models but for prisoners of war. Maybe that wasn’t too far from the truth because most of the shoppers were barely a size zero. These clothes were perfect for them, not her.

  She felt the buzz of a cell text.

  Care to go out tonight? I get off work at 4.

  Maybe she hadn’t blown it with Chris. She answered.

  The badgers aren’t available, so it’d just be me.

  I’m disappointed but I’ll manage. How about dinner?

  Sounds good. If you’re interested, there’s a party in Venice.

  Great! Shall I pick you up?

  Would love it.

  20:00? Just kidding, 8:00?

  Funny. And yes!

  Sarah’s stomach loosened up. She wanted Chris so badly and hoped to God the edge she stood on proved to be strong.

  *

  The traffic on Santa Monica Boulevard was unusually light, which was as rare as a rainy day in Los Angeles. The calls had been steady, but nothing had devolved into arrests yet.

  She turned onto Highland Avenue, whistling some lighthearted tune from a musical. She couldn’t remember the name and most of the lyrics, but it was bright and cheery and had phrases like swapping romantic gleams and carousing around town. She hadn’t been this energized in a long time. Sarah was everything she could have written on a what-do-I-want-in-a-woman list. She had a date with her later and enjoyed the little buzzes of anticipation that snuck up on her frequently.

  Her world was new and promising, and she felt a frivolity that she thought had died when she’d gone through her last breakup.

  Her phone vibrated and she wondered what Paige wanted.

  Hey, I have a question for you. It was Sarah. It’s a little forward so you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.

  Hit me.

  Have you ever had sex in your squad car? Could you get fired for it? If you haven’t, would you? Okay, that was 3 questions.

  Chris felt a strange rush. She’s never been texted something like this before.

  1. I haven’t. 2. Yeah, I could get fired for it, but that’s not why I wouldn’t do it. 3. There’s no room to have sex in my car!

  Are you kidding that you haven’t? Would you think less of someone if they did?

  Not at all.

  Was this what Sarah was talking about when she said they’d take it easy and see where it went? Admittedly, the texts were rather exciting, and damn, if that familiar twinge wasn’t creeping down her spine and toward her thighs. Her heart began to pound eagerly. Whatever they’d agreed to, Chris wanted to partake in this interaction.

  I’m sure it’s pretty close quarters in there.

  Ah, yes, radios and stuff. Gotta be careful you don’t accidentally hit the PA button.

  So you ARE speaking from experience.

  Just some fantasies, maybe.

  Spill.

  Chris hesitated. She was already worked up just from a few texts. She felt the dizzying exhilaration of an act that she knew was forbidden. She focused on her heart as it pounded hard and determinedly. And she’d never felt more alive.

  Someone gets in my squad car and we start kissing passionately. Her hands are all over my uniform and she starts unbuckling, removing, unbuttoning, unzipping, unVelcroing…

  You’re giving me some great ideas…

  I’m here to help. You’re driving me nuts by the way. And she was. Chris had to adjust the way she sat, but no matter how she moved, lovely little twinges prodded her.

  I think you’re my hero.

  I get to see you in two hours. Shall I pick you up?

  Yes, please. I can’t wait.

  Oh, and did I answer your questions sufficiently?

  It’s a good start…It’s a
real good start.

  Chris looked up from her phone, mesmerized. She was wet and she hadn’t even seen Sarah, let alone touched her. She shook as another rush of desire rippled through her. This woman was like no one she’d ever encountered. The key, however, was to avoid getting run over by her own seemingly limitless new behavior.

  *

  By eight thirty in the evening, the remaining tourists on the ocean boardwalk in Venice Beach had dwindled down to small numbers of people partying at the bars that dotted the promenade. The fortunetellers, artists, and buskers had packed up their gear and were somewhere else counting their tips. The surfers were long gone, and the only skateboarders were locals that were no longer carving it up at the skate park but now commuted from the liquor store to their apartments. Homeless enclaves, because it was safer to sleep in groups, wrapped themselves in blackened blankets and shared a nameless bottle of alcohol between them while they prepared their bed of sand or grass for the night.

  The circus-like atmosphere was gone, but sticky remnants of ice cream and sodas marked the boardwalk, like they did every day of the year, the layers of grime chronicling the Southern California lifestyle of those who lived it and those who came to watch its spectacle.

  Sarah and Chris strolled down the boardwalk, since it was the quickest route between one of the few parking spaces they could find and the party.

  They hadn’t talked much more about the sex thing, but Sarah felt a little bit of a change in Chris. Maybe she was tired, or possibly wary about being in Venice at night, but she also seemed the tiniest bit detached. Sarah also noticed that Chris’s arm, now entwined with hers as they walked, felt slightly stiff.

  “I haven’t been down here in a long time,” Chris said as they stepped over a broken pair of sunglasses and a dropped cup of some kind of blue liquid.

  “It’s been a few months for me. The party’s on Wave Crest Court, on the next street up. My friend Patty lives there. She’s a tattoo artist and has a party about every other month.”

  “When I think about the cleanup, that’s a lot of parties.”

  Most of the streets terminated just behind the buildings on the east side of the boardwalk, so they crossed behind the Beach House Market and walked down a typically run-down alley, littered with whatever trash the ocean breezes had blown in, turning onto Wave Crest.

  Even if Sarah had forgotten the address, it was obvious the party was going full tilt at the third house on the right. She could feel the ground rumble in time to the extremely loud hip-hop music, and the partiers who were in the front yard, yelling above the noise, sounded like a rowdier version of the New York Stock Exchange during a dump of expired stock options. This, of course, was pretty standard for a Patty party.

  Sarah took Chris’s hand and led her through the yard and into the house. It took her about ten minutes of maneuvering through the throng of people to find Patty, who was in the living room doing shots with three people that had more ink than clear areas on their skin.

  Sarah hugged Patty and then introduced them. Patty grabbed Chris in a bear hug, which looked adorable, because of the crooked grin it produced from her date.

  “It’s about time you showed up again,” Patty said to Sarah. And though she was already talking over the music, she said even louder, “Now who’s ready for a shot?” She swung a bottle toward Chris. “Would you like one?”

  “No,” Chris said. “I’m good.”

  When Sarah waved the offer off, Patty said, “Well, if you’re on DD duty, it’s a good thing because not many of you are working tonight.”

  A gaggle of women appeared and immediately pulled Patty away.

  Chris leaned toward Sarah. “Did we just get volunteered to drive people home?”

  “No,” Sarah said. “Nobody’s gonna puke in your car.”

  “Of that, I am grateful.”

  Sarah looked around the room. She saw people she knew from previous nights at Patty’s and some she knew from other parties. She didn’t really hang out with many of them, but they were a hell of a lot of fun when the sun went down. This was a place to get crazy and dance and laugh and erase every care from your head. That’s why she liked to come.

  She hoped Chris would get the same out of it.

  “If it’s not a shot,” she said to Chris, “what would you like?”

  “On the way in, I saw a cooler in the kitchen.”

  “Okay, then.” Sarah took her hand and they weaved through the crowd until they pushed their way over to the cooler that sat on the woodblock carving table on the other side of the kitchen.

  Sarah opened it. “Nothing but bottles of Perrier in this one.”

  “That’s perfect.”

  She scooped two out. “Okay.”

  Two hands grabbed her waist and she jumped. Behind her stood Felicia and Deb.

  “What the hell?!” Sarah introduced them to Chris. “These two women are trouble. Don’t talk to them.”

  Felicia threw an arm around Sarah. “We’ve learned from the best.”

  “Where’ve you been?” Deb said, eyeing Chris a little too conspicuously. “We haven’t seen you for a while.”

  “I’ve been laying low, I guess.”

  “We were beginning to think you’d regretted your unforgettable performance.”

  Chris looked back and forth between them. “What happened?”

  “Sarah, here,” Felicia said, “was the star of the karaoke contest the last time she was here.”

  “You don’t look the type,” Chris said.

  “Oh, she’s the type—”

  “Felicia…” Sarah squinted her eyes.

  “Actually, she started the whole event.”

  “No, I didn’t. Patty did.”

  “Patty got it going in the living room, but it was Sarah that moved it to the roof.”

  “The roof?” Chris looked at her, and Sarah couldn’t tell if her expression of disbelief was good or bad.

  Deb then said, “She had some guys lug up the sound system and gave quite a concert from up there.”

  Chris was still looking at her so she said, “What can I say? I like Abba.”

  “Abba?!”

  Felicia laughed loudly. “Who doesn’t like ‘Waterloo’ at about five hundred decibels?”

  “She rocked it.” Deb slapped Sarah on the arm. “But I think ‘Fernando’ was my all-time favorite.”

  “From the roof?” Chris repeated.

  “Yeah! It was just like that video of the Beatles when they played on that rooftop and the police were climbing up to stop them.”

  “Yeah,” Deb said, “except the L.A. cops don’t wear those cute hats!”

  “The police came?”

  Sarah looked at Chris. “Yeah.” It was a funny moment, actually. She’d been right in the middle of “Fernando.”

  Felicia pointed to Sarah. “One of the cops was trying to get her to stop, but she started signing like the song was about him!”

  “And he loved it so much, he gave her a bracelet!” Deb was laughing in between each word. “Too bad it only lasted for the night.”

  “That was priceless,” Felicia said, slapping Chris, who flinched.

  Sarah hadn’t thought of that night in a while. The look on the officer’s face had been so deadpan, just recalling it made her laugh. She gave Deb a little push and turned to Chris. Suddenly, her stomach lurched.

  The stunned look on Chris’s face filled her with apprehension. Oh, this isn’t good, she thought.

  “Okay, ladies, enough rehashing. Chris and I are going to get some fresh air.” She didn’t look at her but reached for her hand, leading her out to the front yard. The crowd of people had grown even larger, but she found a spot by the edge of the street and stopped.

  “Chris, are you okay?”

  “Were you arrested?”

  “No, I was thrown into the police car. I saw the cop getting out his handcuffs, but he turned to react to someone running by him so I jumped out and ran.”

  Chris looke
d at the ground without saying anything.

  “It was just a silly prank. At a party. That happens all the time.”

  “It happens all the time?” Chris’s voice was calm, but she looked far from tranquil.

  “It was a party, Chris.” Little branches of guilt coiled around her gut.

  Again, she didn’t get a response right away. That familiar discomfort began to heat up inside.

  “Okay, you know what?” Sarah tried to stem the fear that flowed quickly up her spine, but it was too strong. “Now you’re getting that cop look, too.”

  At the same time Chris’s chin dropped, her eyebrows rose. Though it wasn’t about Chris exactly, Sarah had seen that look too many times before, and she tensed up to defend herself.

  “It wasn’t a big deal. Shit. It was fun, okay?”

  “Hey, slow down.” Chris reached for her but she pulled away.

  I’m not safe, she began to chant silently. I’m not safe, I’m not safe.

  “Sarah, I’m a cop,” Chris said. “Of course I’m going to be surprised if someone I’m dating has been in trouble with the police.”

  “So, I’m a criminal.”

  “No! I didn’t say that.” She pointed toward the house. “If there were drugs in there, you know I’d have to leave, right? Maybe I should have told you that before we came here, but I have to uphold certain ethics.”

  “And seeing me is unethical?”

  “No, no. I was using that as an example of what makes my job different from a lot of others. I was just surprised that you had a tangle with the law. That kind of stuff gets my attention. I mean, if I’m dating someone who gets arrested, and I know you didn’t, that isn’t looked upon well in my world.”