by Cat Gardiner
Elizabeth smiled slightly. “I don’t mind the fire reference. It calls to mind our date. I suppose now is the time to finally say my piece with John, huh?”
“Well, if you feel compelled to, then yeah. I’d do it for you, but this is one fight The Black Widow, hiding below wounded Lizzy Bennet, has to take on by herself, sort of like when you stood up to your mother last week. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of opportunity to say what’s on your mind.”
“Is Rick listening to this conversation? I don’t want him going back and telling Will. It’s bad enough I have to figure out something to blog about, knowing he’ll be reading it.”
“No Rick’s dead to the world. I wore him out during our little afternoon ‘Matinee’. I don’t think Darcy and his sister are going to read the blog any longer. Rick is sure about that. If you think he is going to, then why not just blog the truth?”
“No, I can’t flat out state it, but I do have to be honest. Proclaiming I love him over the internet without clearing the air between us first wouldn’t be the right way to go about making this right. That would be insensitive, and he deserves better.”
Charlotte suddenly sat up in bed. “Repeat that please.”
“What … the I love him, part? I’ve been such a fool, Char. He’s not arrogant. I … I have misinterpreted and misunderstood almost everything about him. Deliberately to protect myself.”
“Hallelujah! What brought you into this light?”
“Believe it or not, it was Jane. Charlie called off the wedding last night. I think, he found out about the Playboy thing, and I had been hell bent on blaming Will, thinking he was the one who must have told him. However, the more I thought about it, between tabulating three lists of his attributes, along with a timeline, I knew it couldn’t have been him. The man met thirty-five of my criteria. I can’t imagine he would have told Charlie. I know now that it’s … it’s out of character for him.”
“Amazing. So, Jane’s secret has been exposed. Like I said, baggage has to be set aflame otherwise you can never live a really free and happy life, my Lizzy-boo.” She added teasingly, “One might miss their soul mate if they’re so busy clinging to past hurts, and in your sister’s case - secrets.”
“Don’t I know it.” She thought of the last couple of text messages Darcy had sent her the day before and sighed. “I tried to call him, ya know.”
“You did? Wow, you really have turned a corner. What happened? What did he say?”
“It went to straight to voicemail, so I hung up.”
“But you called, that’s a step.”
“Yeah … a step.” Elizabeth sighed again, still feeling like crap. “Have you talked to Sadie? Did you cancel that date?”
“Oh, I meant to tell you, I finally did a ‘Matinee’ and it actually involved tickets and a show! A few days ago, Rick and I schlepped up to Broadway with her to see “First Date.” She’s meshuggeneh and a blast to hang out with. Before the show, we all went for a nosh and kibitzed a bit about your claim to be schlimazel.”
“Schlimazel?”
“An unlucky person.”
“Not anymore. I plan on changing that at the gala. I don’t believe in luck any longer.”
“Good girl! Bubele, you make me so proud. Now, about Jane, what are we going to do with our plane tickets for her bachelorette weekend? You and I can still go, right? We don’t need a bride-to-be in order to get salaciously drunk and hit on men.”
“No more drinking for me. It’s my New Year’s resolution. Besides, who are you kidding, you’ve apparently got super-dong beside you and you want to hit on men in Vegas?”
“I’m not married. A few colorful tree ornaments and a couple of quirky Christmas stockings does not make forever. Those three little words have never been spoken. Hey, I’ve got an idea. This could be another dating attempt. If Darcy fails to come through tomorrow night, we can always bring someone back with us from our little trip to Vegas. Someone who hasn’t seen your lesbian personal ad or eaten your mother’s meat loaf or even have watched you bowl a six. Who bowls a six? Is that even possible?”
“You’re making me feel worse. I’m going now … I’m going to eat myself into oblivion tonight, post my blog, then watch sappy holiday movies. Later.”
“I’ll call you later then …”
“Char?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for everything. Thanks for being more than just a good friend and my support system during all this craziness. You’re a real sister to me - you always have been, and I just want you to know that if nothing comes of this experience other your happiness with Rick, then it’s been worth it.”
“Aww, thanks. You’re my sister too. I’d do anything for you and screwing Preppy has been the unexpected reward.” Charlotte giggled. “Now stop being such a hung over, depressed sap and get your ass off that sofa.”
Sanchez, one of the fire department’s newest probies assigned to the West End Cave, found himself temporarily covering the Housewatch area for Thorpe, this day’s officially scheduled station watchman. Frankly, Sanchez was grateful for the reprieve given the tension pervading the firehouse.
In a foul mood, Darcy was near unapproachable, and the clank of heavy, iron barbells during the veteran firefighter’s unending workout was beginning to grate on everyone’s nerves. With no fires or emergencies since early morning, Darcy had been at it all day, blowing off steam and having nothing to do but self-inflict agony.
Sanchez tried to act busy in case the captain came by the room. Watchman was an important assignment that required attention and accountability, and his regular turn would come soon enough since the duty rotated among the firefighters for each shift. Radios needed to be monitored, logs maintained, telephones answered and duties assigned. Of particular importance to ‘the Cave’ was the greeting of visitors because their Housewatch area actually had a small window and door looking out onto the street at the front of the brick station.
Word had spread quickly from the other guys Darcy had met up with last night at the bar - the man was back to his pre-Thanksgiving, former forbidding persona. Thorpe approached the workout room where only Darcy remained. He was doing lat pull downs on the Nautilus, and with every descent of the one hundred and fifty pound weights, each loud, metallic clank percussed within the small room.
It was clear he was in need of some Thorpe-style humor. Affixing a grin upon his face, Thorpe considered sharing a few stories with his morose friend about his wild woman down at Coyote Ugly or how Morland stepped in a pile of dog shit when he got out of the truck on one of their runs yesterday.
“Whatsup wit ya? Dat Miz. Bennet givin’ ya’ blue balls?”
“Something like that. She kicked my ass to the curb.” Damn if it didn’t kill Darcy to admit that. Any other time and any other woman who had previously done the same had never emotionally affected him at all, but this time it hurt him through and through. He felt like utter crap and it wasn’t from his insomnia, having laid awake all night thinking. Plain and simple, for the first time in his life, he felt brokenhearted.
Darcy stopped pumping iron for the moment, wiping the perspiration from his brow with a towel carelessly tossed onto the bench press.
“Yo! Yo! You dog! You dirty dog. You’ve been knockin’ boots wit huh! You’re in love wit huh!”
Darcy sighed. “Yeah, I’m in love with her. A lotta good that does me. She never wants to see me again.”
“Well, you gotta get her back. Women love da chase. Wif sum of deez chics ya gotta get on your hanz and kneez and beg. Gives em a sense of satisfaction to see a man crawlin back fa forgiveness. I call it ‘da pussy trap’. Once you had a taste, ya’ want more, and dey know it. Dey got you by da dick. Either dat or you gotta make huh jealous. Take out dat randy Mandy chic, and Miz. Bennet’ll change huh tune faster dan you can say, “Let’s get jiggy.”
He’d already gotten ‘jiggy’ with Elizabeth and look where it got him. As for making her jealous, he wasn’t into playing games a
t this stage of their relationship. She clearly stated she didn’t love him and that was that. He had to respect her wishes and feelings or lack thereof.
He threw the towel back on the bench. “No, John, I have to try to let go. I can’t pressure her. Liz has to come to me of her own accord and based on the words we had last night I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
“What-appened?”
“I kind of cyber stalked her blog and she found out. I was going to tell her, along with a few other things I hadn’t disclosed, but it all blew to a head before I had the chance. She’s madder than hell at me and – as far as that bad decision goes – I really can’t blame her.”
“So she ain’t goin ta dat fancy gala wit ya? Itz all the captain keeps tawkin about. He’s bringin hiz ex, ya’ know.”
“Yeah, all the guys from the calendar are bringing dates. As for me, I’m bringing an old friend.”
In the watch area, Sanchez sat gazing out the front window attempting to look out onto the street beyond the trickle of raindrops upon the glass. With one ear attentively listening to radio transmissions from dispatch for emergency situations, his attention became largely diverted watching the progress of a woman with plump red lips, illegally cross the street, narrowly avoiding an oncoming bus.
Thigh high, black platform boots specially trimmed round their tops with white fur crossed the concrete with purposeful, sophisticated poise as she approached the watch window in the rain. He couldn’t help admiring her long, copper hair beneath the red hood of the obvious holiday outfit protected by a Burberry raincoat. A small dog was nestled in her arm, its disproportionally large ears rising up on either side of the pointy green elf hat perched upon its tiny head.
The elfin costumed pooch was the newest addition to Caroline’s ensemble. Having had to relinquish her Taco-Terrier Can-cunt after “her” disastrous blind dinner date with Darcy at her brother's home, she had no choice but to find a suitable replacement at the last minute. Her Mrs. Santa Claus outfit just wouldn’t be complete without the necessary elf accessory. “Hermes,” a French Bulldog-Dachshund designer pooch, more commonly known as a Bull-Weiner, greeted Sanchez with a seeming smile on his little, squished face as Caroline pressed the button beside the metal speaker.
“Dahlink, I’m here to see firefighter, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
“Um … okay. Since its raining, I’ll buzz you in.”
Once within the small room, Caroline, in her five inch heeled boots, towered over the five foot nine, buff firefighter. His eyes overtly raked over her with obvious lust, and she smiled brightly at the compliment his impious gaze bestowed upon her, particularly when she noticed the slight movement in the crotch of his cargo pants. She was impressed and wondered exactly how much he hid below the thick, synthetic fabric. From her trained perspective, he appeared to be going amply endowed.
“If you want to see Darcy you have to stay here. I’ll have to go and get him for you.”
“Would you mind holding Hermes for a minute?” Caroline deposited the little dog into his arms, and then proceeded to unbutton the first three buttons of her Burberry. A twisting smile to her Botox-injected lips teased the firefighter with every glimpse of bare skin below until the cleavage of her curvaceous mounds lay exposed against the seductive white fur edging her outfit’s plunging neckline.
“Sweetie, just tell him the love of his life is waiting for him.” She chuckled. “He’ll be coming right away.”
“Darcy’s a lucky dude. I’ll um … I mean ... he’ll be right up.”
He left the red-headed vixen alone in the watch room and thanked the powers that be that he had been on watch duty at her arrival. Fake or not, those where the biggest hooters he had seen in a long time. Suddenly, he was a grateful believer in Santa Claus.
Once the young firefighter was out of view, Caroline sat Hermes on the desk as though a discarded handbag. She quickly removed her raincoat, revealing a skin-tight, red velvet mini-dress trimmed in white fur around the skirt, neckline and cuffs. The neckline stopped at the wide, black belt just below her new breasts. The skirt barely covered her backside, and she was revealing her Brazilian. Sitting with her back against the myriad of electronic equipment, monitors and radios, she strategically posed, resting one foot up on the edge of the metal swivel chair. Ostensibly, Caroline was offering a Sharon Stone-esque “Basic Instinct” glimpse of her Poochie Mama coochie for Darcy’s immediate appreciation when he entered the door. She was poised and ready for impact – in more ways than one.
“Yo Darcy, there’s quite a lady waiting up in the watch room for you. Came in off the street, looking pretty hot wearing what appears to be a Mrs. Santa costume. Long hair, long legs … said she’s the love of your life. Makes sense since you are Mr. December.”
Darcy bolted up from the bench, his smile growing wide with anticipation as his thoughts shouted optimistic excitement, Elizabeth came to the station to see me! She forgave me! She’s here!
Quickly, he brushed his fingers through his unkempt hair, grabbed the towel to wipe down the perspiration from his arms and chest. He even went so far as to smell his armpits, then his breath. He was a nervous, love-struck, schoolboy.
“Go get-ta, Darce!” Thorpe yelled out to him as Darcy made to exit the workout room. He was only halfway down the hall, when Sanchez also yelled after him, “Lock the door so you and your redhead won’t be bothered.”
With a sudden, screeching stop of his sneakers upon the linoleum flooring, Darcy braced both arms on the walls beside him. “Redhead?”
“Yeah, your lady is hot, hot, hot! Flaming locks and a set a knockers on her that must have set you back about twenty grand, not to mention those lips. Man, what I wouldn’t give for those lips on ... never mind.”
Darcy hung his head and closed his eyes, miserably defeated. “Caroline.” He turned to Sanchez to confirm his conclusion. “Did she bring a dog with her?”
“Yeah cute little pooch, dressed like an elf.”
“Tell you what, probie …” Darcy slapped his shoulder. “She’s all yours. Merry Christmas.”
Never in all the intense months since the young man had been stationed at West End Cave had he ever been witnessed to smile so broadly.
Rushing past Darcy toward the watch room, Sanchez threw open the watch room door, a loud bang sounding against the wall. Hungry eyes feasted on Ms. Santa, unmoved from her seductive pose.
Although initially disappointed that it wasn’t Darcy, it didn’t stop Caroline from pushing her breasts forward and opening her legs a little wider.
The look on her face and the glimpse of her red-hot fireplace was a near undoing for young Sanchez.
He commandingly stated, “Darcy’s not coming, and you appear to have an itch. Baby, I’m available and ready to scratch it.”
Between red, pouty lips, Caroline placed the tip of her pinky nail while considering the option. She was horny … very horny … and when her eyes traveled over his taut, compact, hard body, finally coming to rest on his full-blown arousal there was no hesitation in her voice when she said, “Oh well, I took a chance. So ... let’s see that hot fire hose of yours, big boy.”
Sanchez slammed the door behind him.
Liz's Blog Post Here
Chapter Twenty-One – Sunday, December 22
3 Days Until Christmas
Elizabeth couldn’t deny that John Lucas looked dashing in his single-breasted tuxedo, but she was even more impressed that he actually purchased it solely to escort her to the FD Burn Foundation’s Holiday Gala.
Sitting beside him in the town car, she couldn’t help notice the change in his demeanor towards her. She wondered if Charlotte had read him the riot act about cleaning up his behavior for tonight. Surely, the John she knew couldn’t have made such a genuine, quick turnaround of character but his solicitous attention to her and his excitement at attending a charity holiday formal was appreciated. After all, this was business, nothing more.
Suddenly the evening, on his arm, looke
d a lot more tolerable than how it had begun.
Earlier, Elizabeth had been furious and almost left without him. Having gone for a last minute jog, he lost track of time and kept her waiting in the town car while he ran up to Charlotte’s apartment to shower and change. Only the dismal thought of walking into a grand ballroom, alone and without the expected ‘celebrity’ Pulitzer winner had provided the limited patience she summoned to wait for him. Needless to say, their arrival at the Plaza Hotel went far beyond 'fashionably late,' especially for Elizabeth whose attendance tonight bridged business and pleasure.
The town car pulled into the circular drive where taxicabs and limousines deposited their elegantly attired guests for the festivities in the Grand Ballroom. Every year, the grand Plaza Hotel and the famous Pulitzer Fountain that fronted the entrance were spectacularly adorned with evergreen swags and trees covered with thousands of glittering, white lights. It looked magical and immediately Elizabeth felt hopeful for the outcome of the evening.
John offered his hand for assistance, which recalled to her the manner Darcy had done so when she exited the limo on their date. Yes, it’s true, he looked handsome standing at the foot of the red-carpeted steps before the backdrop of the hotel’s brass lamps and massive black and gold doors. And, although his lopsided grin lessened the anger she felt toward him at the beginning of the evening, he wasn’t Darcy – not even close.
She paused smoothing her silk, emerald green gown before climbing the stairs to enter on his arm.
