Starting Fires

by Makenzie Smith

  Starting Fires

  By:

  Makenzie Smith

  Copyright © 2014 Makenzie Smith

  All rights reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either or products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For Kristen W.

  Thank you for believing in this. You’re beautiful.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Behind my bar I watched the regulars drown their sorrows or regrets or mistakes, or fucking everything with beer, whiskey, whatever their poison. My last name was scrawled across the building. Burns. It seemed appropriate, because sometimes I contemplated burning it down. I never wanted this, not really, but now I was chained by it.

  It hadn’t been long ago that I had it figured out. I knew what I was doing with my life and what I wanted. Now? I was stuck.

  I owned my own bar. On paper that seemed well and good, but I didn’t care about it. I didn’t love it. I didn’t even like it. It was a family legacy—owned by my uncle, and then my father, and now me.

  I played in a band with my friends. I enjoyed it and music was something that I loved, but my heart wasn’t in it. We’d been doing it for years, and it was time to quit. Playing at my bar twice a week, getting drunk and strolling in at 3 a.m. was getting old, but my friends loved it. It was a high to them. I’d lost my buzz for it a long time ago, but couldn’t bring myself to tell them.

  I had women. Too many women. Each weekend was a different girl, sometimes they rotated, but I was tired of that too. I hated their blank stares, never offering anything meaningful to conversations. They were just there, but eager enough to go to bed with me—so I went. And I was over it.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. Glancing at it, I saw that I had a new text message from the main girl in my life. I hated even calling her that. To me, she was just as meaningless as the rest. The only difference being that she’d known me the longest, and that we’d actually dated.

  Now, I didn’t know what we were. She wasn’t what I wanted, and never would be. I couldn’t be what she wanted—no matter how much she tried. But every time I attempted to end it things became ugly, and since there wasn’t anyone else in my life, I stopped trying because I was lazy and couldn’t be bothered to care.

  Her message read Hey Lucas! I’m coming to town tonight. Let’s hang out ;)

  I knew what that meant and I wasn’t feeling it, so I didn’t respond. It wouldn’t matter. She’d show up anyway.

  As I stared at my nearly empty bar, I wished that I could sell it without feeling guilty. I wished that I could quit the band without hurting my friends. I wished that someone else would come along. I wanted to meet that one girl who would light a fire in me—make me feel something, anything. One that pulled me in, and didn’t put up with my shit—who burned me up from the inside out.

  Someone asked for a new beer, breaking my fantasy. I filled his glass and realized that my desire was unlikely. I was stuck there too. No girl was coming. As I slid it over to him, I grabbed a matchbook. Burns Pool Hall & Spirits it said.

  Leaning back on the counter, I opened it and stared at the black matches. Maybe though, just maybe, she would surprise me, showing up when I least expected it.

  The match was already in my hand, she only needed to strike it.

  Chapter 1

  Attached to the doorknob of my first floor apartment was a helium-filled balloon that read, “I love you.” Vases filled with red roses were scattered across my welcome mat. As I stared at the display, I rubbed my temples trying to ease the throbbing headache behind my eye. Why was this happening?

  I remained in my Jeep, unable to stomach getting out to throw it away. I had to leave this city. There were too many ghosts. Too many bad memories. Nothing was particularly wrong with where I lived, but I couldn’t continue this.

  When I’d moved here, it felt like this was my chance. To move on. To forget the past. To make a new life. Now I was stuck in a town that wasn’t my own, with an ex who wouldn’t leave me alone, and my only family hundreds of miles away. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d spoken to my father. A few weeks? A month? Two months? We’d become so good at avoiding each other it was hard to know.

  But it hadn’t always been that way. There was a time when I would have said that he was my hero. And maybe he still was, but… everything had changed. Seven years ago, I dropped out of college, and he and I moved to upstate New York in an attempt to start over, but it was never the same. With every day, it became harder to remember the relationship we had. My father began pouring himself into work and we’ve hardly spoken since.

  In the beginning, it was obvious that he’d felt guilty. His assistant started giving me outrageous gifts that I hadn’t asked for, or weekly allowances that I could never spend. Even a new Lexus. My father was rich. Filthy rich. And I was beginning to hate him for it. Money was his way of sweeping problems under the rug. The new Lexus was still sitting in his garage, and all of the money was given to The Salvation Army. Realizing I didn’t want his gifts, he stopped them, but never considered that maybe I only wanted my father back.

  But he was in New York. And I was in Louisiana. The reason I’d moved two years ago, was also the person who left the roses by my door. Mark. At one point, I thought he was a blessing. He was smart, good-looking, and crazy about me. If it hadn’t been for him… I don’t know what I would have done. He made me feel beautiful and loved. He took me to movies and concerts and reminded me that I had a life to live.

  It was by his pushing that we moved. His family lived a few towns over and he felt that a change of scenery would be good for me. My father agreed, so long as we wouldn’t be living together—not that he would have known about it being so far away. Since he insisted on paying the tuition for me to re-enroll in college, I accepted his terms. It was the least I could do.

  Thank God for those terms now.

  For the first year and a half, I couldn’t imagine myself ever being happier. I was healing. But six months ago, he changed. He started fights anytime I tried to go out with my friends and constantly accused me of cheating. Something was wrong with everything I did. I was annoying. I needed to wear more make-up. I was bitchy. I was a pain in his ass. My jeans were too tight. I needed to lose weight.
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  Normally, I’m not the type of person to let someone belittle me like that, but we’d been together a long time and I’d come to rely heavily on him and his support. It felt like he was all I had—the only one who truly cared about me. After some soul searching and self-reflection, I’ve realized that I should have proudly told him to “fuck off.” Nobody deserves to be treated like that. Ever. I’ve never been super skinny, and I never will be. I’ll admit that my ass is somewhat big, and it probably wouldn’t hurt to do a few crunches, but he can suck it.

  As I remembered him saying all those hateful words, I peeked into my rear-view mirror and sighed. My thick brown hair was naturally wavy, but currently a frizzy mess. I stared at my dark eyelashes and brown-green eyes, noticing the tiny scar just under my eyebrow. I analyzed my complexion. I guess it wasn’t so bad. Without sun, I’d be just as pale as the next person. But maybe a little make-up would do some good. Noticing my train of thought, I banged my fist on the steering wheel, hating him for giving me these insecurities.

  And he broke up with me. How pathetic is that? For a while, I begged him to come back. I wanted to work for reconciliation. Thankfully, I learned the truth about him before I made that mistake. Well, thanks to Samantha, my neighbor and former best friend. I stared at her door and felt like crying. Without her and without Mark, there was nothing left for me here.

  I was 26, still in college, and living alone in a town that wasn’t my own. The closest thing to a friend I had was Charles. And he lived in New Orleans, four hours away. We’d met in high school while his father was stationed in New York. Quickly, we’d become friends and kept in touch as best we could through the years. He was another reason I agreed to this move. But in the last two years, I’d only had one chance to see him, and it was only for a few hours one Saturday afternoon.

  What was intended to be a weekend trip was cut short when Mark decided he had better things to do than spend time with my old friend. Charles played in a band, but I’d never seen them perform. I’d been so excited, but then Mark started an argument on the way to see them, and we never made it. If I hadn’t started crying he probably would have driven home right then. Instead, he “did me a favor” and stayed so we could meet him for lunch the next day.

  I missed Charles, and needed someone to lift my spirits. Having not spoken to him in weeks, I decided we were due for a catch up.

  In my phone, I pulled up his number. “Bear,” it said. I knew that “Marlowe” wasn’t listed in his phone either. My contact name would be “Bird.” The nicknames were silly and how they came to be was mystery to me now. I smiled and placed the call.

  After a few rings, he picked up. “Bird!” he shouted.

  “Hey,” I chuckled. “How’s everything going? We haven’t talked in a while.”

  “Same old shit. When are you gonna come back down to see me?”

  I smiled, imagining his sweet, heartfelt grin on the other end. Bear was a big guy. Short, but stocky. He shaved his head, leaving just the barest hint of light brown hair to dust his crown. “Who knows?” I sighed. “My next semester starts in a month. You know, it’s my final year before I graduate…” I trailed off with a grin.

  “That’s my girl!” he shouted. “Maybe you could come over before you start and see me play. I’m not sure how much longer we’ll be doing this.”

  “What? Why?” Charles loved his band!

  “Well, you know we’re more of a local thing. It’s fun, but responsibilities and shit are getting in the way. Lucas doesn’t have as much time because of his bar. Ian’s dad is sick and he might be taking over the auto shop. Not to mention, Wally and me lost our jobs a while back. We found others, but it’s nowhere near as much money as we were making.” He took a deep sigh. “And it’s time to sign a new lease, but we’re barely making ends meet as it is. We can’t afford it. I might have to move in with Mom and Dad. And that’s totally shitty.”

  “That sucks,” I sympathized. “Maybe you could live with Lucas and Ian until you found something?”

  “Well, they have an extra room, and I’m sure we could crash there for a while. But permanently? I don’t think so.”

  It was cute that he and Wally lived together, and that Lucas and Ian did too. They all had to be in their late twenties, but still living the bachelor lifestyle. I leaned back in my seat, enjoying the peace I felt from talking with him, and tried to find a solution to his problem. “You still live in that three bedroom house, right? What if you found another roommate?”

  “That would definitely help. Spread out the bills a little more, at least give us time to find better work. But I can’t think of anyone I’d want to move in with us. Wally and I have a good thing going. We don’t need someone coming in and messing it up. I guess we could ask….”

  While he talked about who could move in with them, I admit I spaced and started thinking about how amazing it would be to up and leave. Start over. Move in with Charles. I bet he would make an awesome roommate. I could never see us fighting about anything. Wally on the other hand, from what I knew of him, was kind of a wild one. But by splitting the bills, it might be less than what I was paying in rent now. That is, if my dad would let me. It sucked that I had to factor that into it, but he was still paying for my tuition.

  “What would you think about having me as a roommate?”

  “Uh… it would be awesome.” He paused. “Are you serious?”

  “I have to ask my dad first since he pays for my school and as sad as it sounds it’ll be nice if he continues until I graduate. Don’t get your hopes up, but I’ll ask him. I need to get out of this town anyway.”

  “God that would be fucking fantastic. You think he’ll go for it?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Since I used loans to pay for my other expenses, I could have just moved without telling him, but we didn’t need to add more troubles to our relationship. Hopefully, he would see how good this could be for me.

  Calling him might have been cheaper than flying, but I needed a break from all the balloons and roses. Since my checking account was sparse, I swiped his credit card and hopped on a plane. Normally, I only used it in emergencies. Spending his money was something that I loathed. It felt like he was using it to buy me off, but given the situation, I let it slide.

  I drove a rental car to his huge house in upstate New York, using my key to get inside. It was Sunday, and if memory served me correctly, the doctors had ordered him to cut back on work—so he had chosen this day to be his day of rest.

  Walking into the kitchen, I dropped my bag on the counter. Not hearing him walking around anywhere, I opened the fridge, searching for something to drink and grabbed a bottle of water. As I closed the door, a worn out looking Juanita came strolling in, wearing only a big t-shirt and panties.

  Juanita was our housekeeper and the perfect picture of a wannabe playboy model past her time. She had bleached blond hair, perky fake boobs, and huge collagen injected lips. Upon seeing me, fear and shock ran through her mascara-smeared eyes.

  “What are you doing here, Marlowe?” she asked. “It’s fine that you are. I’m just surprised,” she plastered on a big smile and I noted her smeared red lipstick.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, even though it was obvious. “It’s Sunday. Aren’t you supposed to be off?”

  “Umm… well I, umm, live here now. Didn’t I tell you?” With a tight lip, I shook my head and waited for her to elaborate. Before she could continue, my father made this dorky run into the kitchen, popping her on the behind.

  Noticing me in the room, he straightened up and adjusted his already perfect tie. After a few unnecessary throat clears, he walked over to me and placed a loveless kiss on my cheek. “Marlowe, darling, I didn’t know you were coming for a visit.”

  “Surprise,” I shrugged.

  Concern ghosted over his features. “Why are you here? Not that it’s a problem, I’m just curious.”

  I hated how they pretended it wasn’t a big deal that I’d
made this trip. It obviously was. Forcing the feelings away, I looked down to my bottle of water. “I need to ask you for a favor.”

  He moved to pour himself a cup of coffee. “You couldn’t have just called me?”

  Without looking at him, I started peeling the label off. “It’s a pretty big favor.” In my peripheral, I saw him turn around to look at me.

  “Okay,” he drew out. “You aren’t in any trouble are you?”

  I looked up and tried to figure out how I was going to spill this out. I’d come this far. I was doing it, but not with Juanita flashing her, “I’m totally sleeping with your father” eyes at me.

  “Can we talk in your office?”

  Looking nervous, he agreed and started towards the room on the first floor. As we walked through the house, I couldn’t help but notice that all of our family pictures had been taken down and replaced with various forms of crappy art. Maybe it wasn’t crappy, but I didn’t see the appeal. Once we had privacy, I wasted no time and blurted, “I want to move to New Orleans.”

  He stared at me in disbelief before clearing his throat. “Can I ask what for?”

  “Change of scenery,” I shrugged. He wasn’t buying it. I sighed and continued. “I just want to start over somewhere. Since Mark and I broke up, there’s nothing for me in that town. Besides, New Orleans is a much bigger city. You know, better employment opportunities.”

  “There are plenty of other cities that will have employment opportunities. Why New Orleans?” I had to do this gently. The last thing I needed was for him to think I was moving to another city for another guy. Even though Charles and Mark were completely different things. Never in a million years would there be anything romantic with him. Nothing against Bear, but come on, he was my Bear. Like a brother. The thought of kissing him made me want to stick my tongue out in disgust.

  “Well,” I began slowly, “I already looked into some accounting firms in the area, and they seem promising. Also, I found a place to stay that’s cheaper than my current rent. My school has a 100% online program now, and I’ve enrolled in the classes anyway.”