Lucky 13

by Cat Gardiner

  “Bullshit, you’re not wounded. You know it’s true, and that I love you anyway, even though you’re a greedy, selfish, little boy trapped in a man’s body. Nevertheless, I’m glad you’re home for the holidays, even if you don’t get or understand the Christmas spirit. Ya’ know, it’s something that exists year round, and you don’t have to be a child to understand or feel it.”

  “Christmas is just a lame attempt to fill the pews and separate me from my money. You know I don’t believe in that crap. I came home for the winter season, and it’s damn good to be back not to mention fantastic to see Lizzy.”

  “Don’t call her Lizzy. Professionally, she is Elizabeth or Liz. Don’t even make a joke about ‘Lizzy’ or especially ‘Honeybee’ in public. You’ll make an enemy fast.”

  “You call her Lizzy. I used to call her Lizzy.”

  “That’s different, we’re family, but professionally I always refer to her as ‘Liz’. She’s very successful, John and given your proclivity to attempt to steal the show and have everyone’s attention – especially Lizzy’s – you could make it very uncomfortable for her if you start referring to her by either of her childhood names.”

  ‘She didn’t object when I called her Honeybee. As I recall, she ran into my arms.”

  “Lizzy was being her natural, enthusiastic self, but don’t misinterpret that as anything more. She’s not the same girl you used to take advantage of and sweet talked into doing whatever you wanted. Honeybee is long gone.”

  Yeah, I’ll see about that. She’s still my Honeybee. His eyes raked over Elizabeth rather hungrily.

  It was a look Darcy observed when he re-entered the bay from the station quarters. It unnerved him and instinctively felt protective of her.

  “Then why did you agree to my accompanying you today?” John asked.

  Charlotte smiled wickedly. “Oh I don’t know, besides your annoying persistence, I felt that your expected, presumptuous behavior with her could possibly serve another purpose.”

  “Which is …?”

  “Never you mind, now get to work and make those final lighting adjustments to Mr. January’s set over by his apparatus … I mean, engine.”

  Elizabeth couldn’t curb her approving smile as Darcy approached her and the Captain. In dark navy fire department sweats, he looked athletic and sexy and smelled deliciously clean. His hair was still a little damp, and she had to resist the urge to straighten the errant lock that fell onto his forehead.

  “Here he is, Mr. December!” The Captain exclaimed, sitting on the bumper of the engine wearing only his bunker pants and suspenders, his salt and pepper chest hair glistening from the freshly applied oil. “We’re just getting ready to start. You remember Elizabeth Bennet don’t you, Darce?”

  Darcy smiled at her and held out his hand. “Nice to see you again, Elizabeth.”

  She accepted it with a smile of her own, enjoying the feel of his strong hand in hers. “Same here, I’m … glad you were able to make it. Captain Donahue was just telling me about the fire you came from this morning. You must be exhausted.”

  He shrugged. “I’ll be fine. It’s all for the Foundation. That’s what’s important.” Darcy could see Photo-Boy watching the exchange.

  He remembered Georgiana’s advice. “You look lovely today, Elizabeth. Red becomes you.”

  She blushed. “Thank you.”

  For a moment, they forgot the others who came to stand beside them, until finally Elizabeth broke away from this new charming spell he cast. She felt confident that there seemed to be no animosity between them. He was cordial, he had complimented her, and he smiled. So far, he was batting three hundred, and she chose not to read into it. Today, she was determined to remain professional and needed to focus and not on the subtle clean, woodsy scent of Mr. December’s aftershave.

  “Will Darcy this is Jen. She won the VIP auction and will be spending the day with us,” she introduced.

  Darcy greeted the woman with a welcoming smile. “Hi Jen, thanks for your donation to the Foundation, glad you could join us.”

  Jen’s look was something close to star struck. “Hi. I’m really glad to be here. Penny has been showing me the basics of makeup, so I hope to be of some use instead of just standing around gawking at all of you.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do fine and have some fun in the process. We’re a pretty easy-going bunch of guys around here.” Darcy jokingly pointed to Mike, Mr. April. “Except him.” He leaned into her and playfully chuckled. “He’s pretty high maintenance. Don’t touch his hair.”

  With a flirtatious smile she replied, “Thanks for the tip. I’ll remember that. What about your hair?”

  “Oh, I’m easy. I don’t mind if it gets ruffled, just like my feathers.” He ran his hand through his wavy locks, smiled and winked to ease her obvious nerves. To her left, Darcy greeted Penny with an equally warm smile, trying his damndest for Elizabeth to see this friendly side of him. “Hi Penny. Thanks for donating your time today. I think we’re all going to have a great time.”

  Whether it was jealousy or her usual misinterpretation of his friendliness, Elizabeth’s mind suddenly retreated into her previous opinion of Darcy as he made small talk in a comfortable and charming manner with the women standing beside him – like a harem. Is he flirting with the Miss Perfect VIP – already?

  As though a man on a mission, John came to stand possessively beside Elizabeth, suddenly putting his arm around her shoulders and deliberately ignoring her attempt to shirk him off.

  In response to Darcy’s greeting to Penny and her donation of time and talent, he spoke with bombastic pride directly to the firefighter. “Yeah well, Lucas Photography is quite magnanimous in its generosity. We haven’t met, I’m John Lucas.”

  It certainly seemed to all within earshot that John implied that the studio was his. He held his hand out to Darcy with a challenge, clearly throwing down the gauntlet for Elizabeth’s attention, and letting his competition know he was someone important.

  John had a trained eye attuned to seeing things that most wouldn’t, and he immediately recognized the way the beefy firefighter looked at his Lizzy. Yes, that’s right, his Lizzy.

  That was the way with him. Anyone who wanted anything he once had a previous claim to was viewed as a competitor, and he had every intention of renewing his previous relationship with Elizabeth until it was time for his next assignment abroad.

  The two men stood toe to toe, Darcy the more muscular and taller. He was definitely more hard-bodied compared to John’s slender, athletic frame.

  Darcy held his hand out to shake. “Welcome to the West End Cave. Both the station and the Foundation appreciate your sister’s generosity.”

  He held the jerk’s look, silently acknowledging the challenge, but decided it was a challenge to be saved for another day. Today was Elizabeth’s day to shine. He knew enough about her to know how committed and passionate she felt about her work, and today she didn’t need complications, least of all from him. He could relate to her acute focus and would respect her professionalism, giving her the same in kind. Darcy was determined to assist her in any way and if being cordial to this pompous jackass was required, well then so be it.

  John smirked at the usage of “sister’s.” Clearly, the game was on. Called out, he accepted the handshake, both men providing an inordinate amount of pressure to their hands. Each of their forceful grips was clearly meant to break the other’s unspoken resolve for Elizabeth’s affections.

  The Captain smiled, thinking, Damn, Darcy’s good. He recognized the power struggle between the two bulls before him. His divorce didn’t happen just because his ex-wife was out playing Bunko every Monday, Wednesday and Friday night. He’d once been faced with the same situation when they appeared before their divorce mediator. Her boy-toy had the nerve to sit in the lobby.

  “I didn’t catch your name,” John said releasing his grip from Darcy, concealing the contortion to his face well because it was clear that the man before him had a formid
able amount of strength.

  “Darcy, Will Darcy.”

  “As in Fortune 500 Pem Tech Darcy?”

  “Yeah, that’s my family’s company.”

  John placed his arm back around Elizabeth’s shoulder, pulling her a bit closer than before.

  She failed to remember John’s possessiveness, but as a confident, professional woman in an industry dominated by men, she simply physically removed his hand from her shoulder, looked at her watch and asked in her ‘all business voice’, “Shall we begin?”

  Charlotte joined the group and began imparting her tips of the trade, along with an upbeat message to have fun. The music changed overhead to Marvin Gaye’s “Got to Give it Up,” officially kicking off the photoshoot.

  Charlotte’s Blog Post Here

  Chapter Ten – Monday, December 9 (Con’t)

  16 Days Until Christmas

  Jane almost never stayed up late enough to watch the eleven o’clock news, but tonight was different – and thank God for that. With her routine crack of dawn wake-up alarm and long days full of the hair-makeup-wardrobe-camera-do-it-again modeling regimen she lived, she was always exhausted. Fortunately, today she hadn't had any assignments scheduled and spent the afternoon running wedding errands.

  Sitting cross-legged on the sofa, indulging a late-night craving for a bowl of Fruit Loops cereal, she was spellbound before the TV– shoveling spoonfuls of sugar coated crispy colors into her mouth.

  The ABC News Reporter, holding off the chilling December air in a fashionable lamb’s wool coat, held the microphone below her chin.

  “This is Candy Moore and I am standing in front of New York Fire Department’s Ladder Company 13, Engine Company 42, also known as the ‘West End Cave’ to those who live on the Upper West Side. To all my female viewers, you may want to get some ice because in spite of the thirty-two degree weather, it’s burning up inside these bay doors. We are here today covering New York’s Bravest 2014 Calendar photoshoot organized by one of the city’s premier advertising firms, Big Apple Design Company.

  Thirteen gorgeous, hard-bodied men are taking it off and greasing it up for a worthy cause - The FD Burn Foundation that generously gives back to the community for the prevention, education and restoration of lives. Last year’s quarter of a million dollar grant to the Burn Center at New York Presbyterian Hospital provided through the Foundation was donated by the founder, Fitzwilliam Darcy, President of Pem Tech as well as a part-time firefighter here at the West End Cave.”

  “Charlie! Come quickly!” Jane sloshed the milk from the bowl as she attempted to uncross her long legs to sit forward at the edge of the sofa in rapt attention.

  Running into the room, Charlie followed the direction of Jane’s hand as she raised the volume with the TV remote and grunted, motioning toward the screen. She swallowed a quick last mouthful of Fruit Loops in a very unladylike manner as Candy continued,

  “Fitzwilliam Darcy, is also one of the department’s calendar men, posing as Mr. December. This year, it seems his generosity cannot be outdone because here one of New York City’s most eligible bachelors is baring almost all for his cause. Proceeds from this year’s campaign will be granted to both the Foundation’s Burn Camp, which hosts dozens of school age burn-victims for a week in the Berkshire Mountains, as well as donations going toward the New York Firefighter’s Skin Bank for skin grafts and cryopreservation.”

  Charlie sat at the edge of the sofa, too. “We’ll I’ll be ... so that’s what he’s been doing this month. He never said anything when I spoke to him last week. Good God, he must have been drunk when he agreed to do this. This is so out of character for him.”

  “Charlie, I was there at the auditions. I had no idea your best man was one of the men I judged!”

  “Ladies, let’s go inside for a behind the scenes sneak peek at the hot men of West End Cave and other stations throughout the city.”

  The camera made a quick scan of the station’s interior until they arrived on the set of Darcy’s photoshoot. The reporter stood back appraisingly while Chris, the local network cameraman, filmed Charlotte at work, prompting the firefighter on how to stand and what expression to convey.

  Darcy hung from a vertical side ladder toward the rear end of the truck. At the very back, big and bold, a red number ‘13’ faced the camera. Mr. December’s bunker pants rested dangerously, seductively, invitingly low. The trail of dark hair from his navel was enticing. Santa would have been mortified to see the amount of skin exposed. With one boot on the back bumper, his leg was bent and he held his helmet under the crook of his left arm at his hip. He was a natural, and posing for the camera seemed to come easily to him.

  No one but Charlotte could tell just how nervous he was, least of all Elizabeth who stood off to the side, hot, aroused and definitely interested in his invitation but doing her damn best to divert her attention. She was absolutely forcing herself to focus on and shamelessly flirt with another man who reveled in her attention – John.

  Candy walked around one of the trucks and spoke into her microphone,

  “And here we have the subject of our expose, otherwise known as Mr. December in the 2014 Calendar, ‘Hot Stuff – Heroes of FDNY’.”

  Chris zoomed in on Charlotte circling Darcy and snapping away, her shutter rapidly clicking mere milli-seconds apart. All along, she gave Darcy instructions, trying to engage him with quips and banter to loosen him up further. The lens told her volumes. The moment the news reporter appeared at the end of Engine 42 beside them, Darcy tensed and quickly refocused his attention on Elizabeth. Charlotte loved when each frame spoke to her. Watching the change in his countenance was significant, going from pleasure to frustration to fury while he studied the attention Elizabeth paid to this other guy who clearly had a history with Miss Pencil up Her Ass “Honeybee.”

  Initially, when Darcy had exited the station’s quarters wearing his provocative and scant, photoshoot "attire," his look was so serious, almost annoyed, but all it took was Elizabeth’s gaze of approval, and he became a different man for the camera, and in Charlotte’s opinion, for Elizabeth. Now, watching her friend so easily toss aside her hard-earned, well-respected professionalism by lavishing foolishly directed attention to John, she could clearly understand Darcy’s change in countenance once again.

  What the millions of viewers of the late night news report did not get to see was the reporter approach Darcy’s set with hubris, as though she had every right to interrupt Charlotte’s work. Every eye in the station house turned toward her when she pushed forward her microphone and began her inquisition, “Mr. Darcy how does it …”

  Charlotte instantly stood to her full five foot, two inches, anchoring her unencumbered hand on her jutted hip. She forced herself to smile when she brusquely informed the intruder, “Ms. Moore, please! You may have your interview when I am done with this set, madam.”

  The reporter stepped back, and Chris the cameraman’s filming continued while Charlotte repositioned Darcy’s body – a task more enjoyment than work.

  The women in that warm fire station’s bay were thunderstruck watching him flex his bicep as he clung to the ladder, the veins in his arm bulging from the pressure and the exertion of his tightening muscles.

  When finally Elizabeth surreptitiously chanced a look, she couldn’t help giving him all her attention. Mesmerized, she unconsciously removed the lip balm from under her wristwatch band, and slowly smoothed it over her parched lips. Her lip remained slightly agape long after the balm had completed its ‘o’.

  Charlotte returned to her position behind the tripod mounted camera. “Great, perfect Darcy. Give me a mischievous smile, as if you know a secret about me. That’s great.”

  In the living room, Jane slapped Charlie’s arm with furious excitement when the camera zoomed in on Darcy hanging from the edge of the truck. “Oh my God! He’s the one Lizzy’s in love with.”

  “That’s my best man. Lizzy’s in love with Darcy?”

  “That’s Darcy – your D
arcy. Fitzwilliam?”

  “Sure, didn’t you address the wedding invitations?”

  “No, I asked your mother to do it for me.”

  Charlie knit his eyebrows. “So how is Lizzy in love with Darcy?”

  “She just is, but she doesn’t know she’s in love yet. She won a date with him at the auditions. Actually Charlotte and I set it up and you paid for it.”

  “You’re confusing me, Jane. How did I pay for it?”

  “Remember that check you sent me off to the auditions with? Lizzy’s company’s auditions last Saturday? They had a date auction with a firefighter. He was the firefighter – Mr. December. Charlotte says Lizzy and he are playing cat and mouse with each other, so I thought I would lend a hand. Don’t worry, your money went to two good causes – the Burn Foundation and getting my sister a date with the second hottest man in the city. Now shush, I’ve got to hear what this reporter is saying.”

  Also edited from the news report was how when the music changed to Madonna’s “Burning Up” between frames, Charlotte looked around for Penny who was nowhere to be found. She was most likely eagerly ‘prepping’ one of the other firefighters whose shoot was yet to come. Chuckling, Charlotte turned to Elizabeth, standing next to John at the laptop, appraising each shot that appeared on the screen, yet trying to act totally nonchalant about the images before her, as though Darcy was a marketing study.

  “Um, Liz … I need you. Please take that bottle and refresh Darcy’s oil,” Charlotte commanded.

  “I’ll do it,” Jen interjected enthusiastically.

  “No that’s all right, Jen. I need Liz. She knows exactly where to put it and what he needs.”

  Elizabeth said nothing. She moved seamlessly from the two-dimensional computer image directly over to the solid, muscled, heated real thing, without a single objection uttered from her near-drooling lips.