“When asked if any of the firefighters knew Ms. Jones’s true identity, the answer came down to this.”
Vader’s bony face filled the screen. “Bleep, no.”
That was one bright spot: Sabina and Vader couldn’t be that close if she hadn’t even told him her true identity.
Ella Joy cruised toward the end of her story. “After all the talk about the sexy Bachelor Firemen of San Gabriel, it’s nice to see the tables turned. The only question now is, does the curse also apply to the Bachelorette Fireman of San Gabriel? My sources tell me Ms. Jones is still single, so there’s a good chance it does. Which means, gentlemen, that you just might have a chance with her.”
Roman scowled. What a stupid way to end the piece. He clicked the remote. Luke, sprawled in an armchair with his homework, was staring at the TV in fascination. “Taffy’s the one in that show, right? That we watched a million episodes of when we were both home sick?”
“Right.”
A You and Me marathon had been playing that week, a few years ago. They’d watched in a Tylenol-hazed stupor until all the plotlines blurred together and they loopily sang the theme song out loud when each new episode began.
“So Taffy is Carly’s Big Sister?”
“Yep. But she’s not Taffy, she’s Sabina. I think.” On the show, the credits had always said, “Annabelle and Sally Hatfield in You and Me.” Which was her real name? Who was Sabina, really?
“I wonder if she still gets into trouble all the time,” Luke mused.
“I’d have to say that’s a yes.”
At the very least, she was going to get him into trouble. Right on cue, his cell phone rang.
“You’re supposed to keep that damn station off the news.” Chief Renteria sounded every bit as furious as he’d expected.
“This one came out of left field.”
“A child actor one of our firefighters? We’re going to be a freaking joke. Even more than we already are.”
Roman got to his feet and walked the phone into the living room. “Hang on there, Chief. She went through the academy like anyone else. She’s an excellent firefighter. It’s not her fault the media got hold of this. As far as I know she was trying to keep it quiet.”
“See that she does. Or I want her out.”
“That could be tough.” Union issues, bad publicity . . . any number of things protected firefighters from unjust firings.
“Find a way. Or stop this before it gets worse.”
“I’m on it.”
Roman viciously tossed his cell phone into the couch cushions. He didn’t blame Renteria for being pissed. This was exactly the kind of thing he’d hired Roman to stop. Sabina and her mother had created a huge mess that Roman would have to fix.
He stalked into the kitchen. Hamburger night, Luke’s favorite. Too bad all his fancy cooking was wasted on his son. He pulled a package of hamburger meat out of the refrigerator and began making patties.
Damn that Sabina Jones. Having her on the crew was like trying to put out a brushfire that kept flaring up again. If Renteria found a way to get rid of her, Roman’s life would be a hell of a lot easier. But he couldn’t help feeling bad for Sabina. Obviously she’d valued her anonymity, and now it was gone forever. Maybe he should call her and see how she was doing.
No. She wouldn’t want to hear from him. She’d assume he was calling to chew her out. Or worse, offer to help. When he’d tried to comfort her at the station, she’d pulled away in record time. She was so damn independent. Right now she was better off leaning on her friends. Like Vader. At the thought of Sabina curled up on Vader’s couch, pouring out her troubles, a current of irritation made him slap the hamburger meat harder than necessary.
He put oil in a cast-iron pan and waited for it to heat. Get over it, Roman. You can’t be Chief Roman the hard-ass and a friend. Not that he wanted to be her friend, precisely. What did he want?
The images that flashed through his mind in answer to that question were hot enough to make the frying pan sizzle.
Ever since Ella Joy had anointed her the Bachelorette Fireman of San Gabriel, Sabina’s phone hadn’t stop ringing. Most of the calls were from reporters. “This is Jamie Gold from Us magazine, we’re doing a full-length feature on you and would like to get a quote” . . . “I’m the assistant to the producer of The Bachelorette on ABC and we’d love to invite you on the show” . . . “I’m doing a piece on the tough times faced by former child actors, please call me back at . . .” She didn’t answer a single one of those calls.
Her mother called. She didn’t answer that one either. Now that her name was back on TV and her life lay in Humpty Dumpty pieces around her, she was too angry to speak to Annabelle.
Vader called too. She knew he was wounded by her secrecy. No doubt about it, she owed him an explanation. But if she knew her friend, he’d get over it quickly. He’d never been one to hold a grudge.
She didn’t get a call from Chief Roman, but then why would she? At least he wasn’t yelling at her; then again, maybe he was waiting until next shift.
Determined not to let the media uproar derail her life, she picked up Carly after school and took her to the South Desert Mall for ice cream. Supposedly it was a treat for Carly, but really she was the one who needed the time. Being with Carly put things into perspective. At least she was a grown woman with control of her life—sort of. Carly still had years of putting up with other people’s crap before she could strike out on her own.
As they walked into the mall, Sabina realized her Little Sister seemed down. Her wide brown eyes didn’t shine with their normal brash spark. She walked with shoulders slouched, feet dragging.
“Are you up for this, hon?”
“Sure,” Carly answered listlessly.
“Are you upset because I didn’t tell you?”
Carly frowned. “Tell me what?”
Sabina shook her head, laughing at her own presumption. The world didn’t revolve around a silly TV report about her past. “Nothing. Well, I suppose I should tell you. Before I was a firefighter, I was a child actor in a TV show. The news just found out and they’re all excited about it.”
That snapped Carly out of her funk. “Really, you were an actress? Damn, woman. If I was an actress I’d be telling the whole world.”
“Should you really be saying ‘damn’?”
“Like anyone cares what I say.”
“I care.”
“Whatever.” Carly’s gloom returned. She didn’t say much more as they made their way through the food court to Cold Stone Creamery. She didn’t even get excited about her chocolate-coated waffle boat. Something was definitely up.
They grabbed a pair of orange plastic chairs and settled in to enjoy their ice cream. For the first time in years, Sabina was wearing a baseball cap crammed low on her head—her old disguise when she hadn’t wanted to be noticed. When she’d played Taffy, going out in public had been a trial. Her mother had welcomed the attention, parading like a queen through the crowds, while Sabina had trailed behind, hating the feeling of people staring at her.
Now she realized she’d unconsciously chosen a table in the corner where no one would notice them. She was keeping her head down, her eyes hidden so no one would catch a flash of turquoise. Silently she cursed Ella Joy, her mother, her terrible bad luck.
“Are you okay?”
She looked up to meet Carly’s warm brown eyes. “I’m supposed to be asking you that.”
“I’ll answer if you will.”
“I’m fine.”
“So am I.”
They both laughed and returned to their ice cream. Sabina took a long, soothing dose of rocky road. “Okay, fine, I’ll go first. I didn’t want the whole world to know I used to be Sally Hatfield. I liked being plain old, ordinary Sabina Jones. I didn’t want my past life to get in the way of my firefighting career.”
“Why would it do that?”
“Because when you’re famous, people treat you differently.”
Carly
tilted her head and twirled her spoon in her mouth. “Like how?”
“It’s hard to explain. People treat you like you’re in a different world, behind some kind of magical veil. They want to be part of it, but they also hate you for it. When I was young I could never understand it. It was hard to trust anyone.”
Carly was listening with complete attention now. “I know about that part. The not trusting part.”
“I know you do.” Sabina offered a smile that came out crooked. “We have a lot in common, if you think about it. It’s hard for us to trust. We’re always on guard. We’ve had to grow up fast.”
“I still can’t believe my Big Sister is a celebrity.”
Sabina snorted. “Was. Definitely past tense. They might take me on Dancing with the Stars, but that’s about it.”
“Seriously? Dancing with the Stars?” For the first time, Carly actually looked impressed.
“What, running into burning buildings isn’t exciting enough for you?” Sabina teased.
But Carly’s face had suddenly gone tense. Her eyes narrowed to dark slits as she aimed a death stare at someone. Sabina turned to see Roman’s son, Luke, walking through the food court with a few other boys; he towered over the others by at least a head. At the sight of him, a vicarious thrill washed through her, as if Roman might be right behind him. A quick check told her he wasn’t, but it still took a moment for the adrenaline to subside.
Luke glanced over at them, his step hitching as he recognized the two of them. At first all he did was wave. Sabina gave him a friendly salute in return, but Carly didn’t respond.
“What’s wrong with you?” Sabina hissed. “He’s on your team.”
“They all are.”
Luke said something to the others, who shook their heads and kept on walking. Luke shrugged and veered away from the group. He headed toward Sabina and Carly. He wore an old-style, blue Brooklyn Dodgers T-shirt and jeans. His light brown hair stood up in random spikes. He looked clean-cut and well-behaved. Chief Roman wouldn’t tolerate anything less, Sabina imagined.
“Hey,” he mumbled to Carly when he got close to the table.
“Hey,” she muttered into her ice cream.
Sabina looked from one to the other. “Hi, Luke,” she said with a big, bright smile. “What are you up to today?”
His gaze switched to her. “We’re getting pizza.”
“I’m sure it’s nowhere near as good as New York pizza.”
He shrugged, his gaze sliding back to Carly. Sabina had seen enough of Roman’s son to know this wasn’t his normal demeanor. Obviously Carly made him uncomfortable.
“We’re going to go throw the ball around after we eat, if you want to come,” he said to her.
Carly scooped out a spoonful of ice cream. “No, thanks. I’m hanging with Sabina today.”
“Oh, that’s . . .” Sabina trailed off at a sharp look from Carly.
Luke nodded, as if he wasn’t surprised. He turned to go, then swung back around to face them. “That’s a killer curveball you’ve got. Do you hold it across the seams, more like a knuckleball? Or the regular way?”
Carly let out a snort. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Sabina noticed that her face had lit up in the way only talking baseball could accomplish.
“Well, yeah, that’s why I asked.” Luke rolled his eyes sarcastically. Now that was more like the live-wire kid Sabina remembered. She sat back, hoping they’d forget she was there.
“I’ll tell you if you explain how your fastball jumps at the end.”
“I can’t do that.”
Carly went back to death stare mode. From experience, Sabina knew it hid hurt feelings more than anything else.
“I’m serious. I can’t tell you because I don’t know. One of these days it’ll stop jumping and then I’ll be screwed.” Luke shot Sabina a guilty look. “Oops. Don’t tell my father I said that word. He hates it.”
Carly sneered. “Sabina’s cool. She’s not a narc.”
Risking loss of coolness, Sabina clarified. “If you were doing drugs, I most certainly would become a narc.”
Luke stuck to the main point. “I wish I knew why my fastball works. If I ever figure it out I’ll tell you.”
“Cool.”
“See you at the game?”
“Well, duh. I’m starting.” Smugly, Carly slurped up a giant spoonful of ice cream.
“Yeah, well, don’t worry, I’ll be there as backup just in case. So don’t screw up.”
“In your dreams.”
Luke left with a last friendly wave to them both. Sabina stared at Carly, whose face was a dusky pink color she’d never witnessed before. “You like him.”
“No, I don’t.” The girl blinked. “I hate him.”
“Maybe you hated him, past tense, but not anymore. He’s a nice kid. It took guts to come over here when the others wouldn’t.”
That reminder made Carly push aside her ice cream and cross her arms over her chest. “Of course all the guys hang together. It’s so unfair. They practice together and get better and better. None of the other girls wants to practice with me.”
“Then why didn’t you go along with them?”
“He didn’t really mean it.”
“So? You think the other firefighters invited me in at first? No way, kiddo.” Sabina put down her ice cream, the better to focus on her point. “I had to barge my way into their workouts and their ski trips and their barbecues. I fought hard for every last ounce of respect from those guys, and I earned it too. They didn’t like me at first, but damn it, I made them respect me. Sorry.”
Carly, having heard much worse since the age of two, didn’t even blink.
Sabina waved her pink plastic spoon. “I’m not about to let some bimbo TV reporter and some Machiavellian agent, not to mention my own mother, take that away from me. You know what, Carly?”
“What?” The girl had forgotten all about her ice cream, which dripped onto the table.
“Maybe it’s a good thing this happened. It’s a reminder of what I really want out of life. I want my job. My spot on the force. My right to put on that gear and throw myself into mortal danger. Is that too much to ask just because I was born to a mother who was obsessed with movies? No! It’s not. Right?”
“Damn, chica. What’s got into you?”
Carly’s dark eyes brimmed with laughter. She put a hand to her mouth to hold back the giggles.
“Sorry, I guess I just had to get that off my chest.” Sabina sank back in her chair. She glanced around, realizing she’d been ranting in a raised voice that had drawn glances from the neighboring tables. “Oops.”
“Um . . . weren’t you saying something about being anonymous?” Carly rolled her eyes to indicate someone approaching.
“Shit.”
“It’s a good thing Luke’s father isn’t here, you’d be in trouble with that language,” Carly chastised with glee.
“Excuse me.” A plump, pretty older woman stood next to their table, an eager look in her eyes, a pen and notebook in hand. “Aren’t you the one on the news? The Bachelorette Fireman?”
Sabina couldn’t bring herself to lie in front of her Little Sister. What kind of mentor would that make her? She forced her head into a reluctant nod.
“Well, I just think it’s so wonderful that you became a firefighter. What a great role model you are for young people. I never really liked your show much, to be honest.”
Sabina’s gaze slid to Carly, whose eyes went wide in an oh-no-she-didn’t kind of look.
“Could I get your autograph?” the woman asked.
On autopilot, Sabina took the pen and pad. She looked at the woman blankly. “I have no idea what to sign.” Taffy McGee? Sally Hatfield? Sabina Jones? Two? Her various identities swirled around her in a vortex of confusion.
“Can you sign it from the Bachelorette Fireman of San Gabriel?”
Sabina nearly choked. That was the one name she refused to claim. She wrote, “Best Wishes from San Gabriel Fire
Station 1. Check your fire extinguishers! Firefighter Jones.”
When she handed it back, the delight on the woman’s face made her wonder if she was onto something. Maybe this attention could be used for a good purpose. Spread the word about fire safety. Encourage people to clear the brush from around their houses, keep their chimneys cleaned out, not leave burners unattended . . .
“Now,” said the woman, crouching next to the table with a girlish giggle. “What I really want to know is, what’s it like working with all those handsome, single Bachelor Firemen? And is that new one from New York as sexy in person as he is on TV?”
Chapter Fourteen
In the days before Roman, Sabina would have found the woman’s question about the Bachelor Firemen easy to answer. Working with all those sexy firemen was like hanging out with a gang of brothers. She loved feeling like one of the guys. But now that Chief Roman was around, everything had changed. Now she had a different answer, though she’d kept it to herself at the mall. Working with all those single firemen—and that sexy new guy from New York—was like riding a stomach-churning roller coaster that you never wanted to stop.
At six o’clock the next morning, she arrived at the station even before the early relief guys. Chief Roman was already working his magic at the coffeemaker, still yawning. The scent of Italian roast made her nostrils flare and her lower belly quiver. She would always associate that smell with Roman.
“Can I have a word, Chief Roman?”
He turned, his dark gaze encompassing her in one swift glance. She noticed a tiny nick on his jaw where he’d cut himself shaving. Raising one black eyebrow, he gestured for her to precede him into his office.
She spoke before he’d even made it to his desk. “I can’t apologize enough for exposing the station to another media blitz,” she announced, standing stiffly at attention and gazing somewhere over his left shoulder. His broad, powerful left shoulder.
“Duly noted,” he said gruffly. “Are you all right?”
“If you mean do I need sympathy or time off, the answer is no.”
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