Loving Mr. Kale

by Nicole Casey

  “See the fire truck?” I asked, pointing toward the vehicle. “They’re coming to get us!”

  “Now?” the bird replied.

  “Now,” I said. I stood and raised an arm, waving my hand in the air as the men and women inside the vehicle began to disembark. “Help!” I cried, to which Scottie added a Help! of his own. “We’re trapped up here!”

  “Wait one moment sir!” a man called back. “We’re coming!”

  Scottie screeched.

  I sighed.

  A pair of men came forward, dragging a ladder alongside them.

  I watched in feverish anticipation, sweating both from nerves and the sweltering heat slowly descending upon us, as one of the men began to scale the ladder and make his way toward us.

  “Sir!” the gentleman called as he approached, his features mostly obscured beneath the helmet and mask he wore. “You’re going to have to pass your belongings to me.”

  “I don’t know if I can reach you,” I said.

  “Try,” the man urged.

  I extended an arm, laptop firmly in hand, across the space separating us, and sighed as the man’s hand locked around my computer. He passed it to another individual below him and then extended an arm out to me.

  “Take my bird first!” I cried.

  “Sir,” the fireman said. “We can’t afford to wait.”

  “But—”

  The fire escape shifted as part of the brickwork wall began to collapse.

  “NOW!” he commanded.

  With as much caution as I could manage, I slid one leg over the railing, set my foot down on the opposite side, then slid my other leg over before extending my hand to him.

  He grabbed my arm.

  He tugged me forward.

  The ladder below us shifted as our combined weights weighed it down.

  “Hold on!” the man cried, so close to my ear that I thought for a moment he would deafen me.

  The parrot bobbed his head and began to dance upon my shoulder as the fireman helped me begin to descend.

  It wasn’t long after we started down that the fire escape began to tremble.

  “It’s gonna break!” the female firefighter below said.

  “Move the ladder!” the fireman holding me in place cried, tightening his hold around my abdomen and pulling me against his hard and muscled body.

  Scottie screamed as the metal above groaned from the efforts of years of neglect, then cried out as the rolling ladder began to shift to the left.

  The metal holding the fire escape snapped and then collapsed the structure a moment later.

  “NO!” Scottie screamed. “NO NO NO!”

  “We’re fine!” I cried. “We’re—”

  The ladder bowed to one side.

  The firefighter pressed me to his chest, our bodies melding almost perfectly together. “Start descending,” he said. “Now.”

  I did—slowly, cautiously, with the intent of a sloth moving through the rain forest. It seemed like it took the pair of us forever to descend—he in his thick boots, I in my bare feet. My toes were frozen and the bottoms of my feet felt as though they would slip at any moment, such was the precipitation developing along the ladder’s rungs. I somehow managed to maintain my grip—assisted by the fireman’s strong arm and gentle, reassuring hand—and continued to scale the ladder as calmly as I possibly could.

  Soon, we were on the ground—cold, shivering, and desperate for warmth in the frigid chill of the night.

  “Thank you,” I said as I turned to face the fireman.

  He pulled his helmet off.

  His face was revealed.

  Dark green eyes met me beneath a pair of thick black brows. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said, his teeth appearing from a mass of well-trimmed facial hair. “All in a day’s work.”

  “How can I repay you?” I asked.

  “No need,” the fireman replied.

  “At least tell me your name.”

  “It’s Dylan,” he said.

  “Dylan,” I replied, reaching forward to take his hand. “I’m Chase.”

  “Nice to meet you, Chase. Now if you could please make your way to the ambulance, the paramedics will check on you.”

  “I’m fine,” I said.

  “What about your little friend?”

  I turned my head to find Scottie bobbing his head enthusiastically at the man who had literally just saved our lives.

  “Tell the fireman thank you, Scottie,” I said.

  “Thank you!” the bird said, then bobbed his head once more.

  Dylan smiled and gestured me out of the alleyway before turning and acknowledging the fire truck as it continued to shoot water into the building.

  As I approached the ambulance and the paramedics within, I turned to look back at Dylan and sighed as I took in his handsome features, as I listened to his authoritative voice.

  If it hadn’t have been for him…

  I shook my head.

  No.

  I couldn’t think about that—not now, not with everything going on.

  After taking Scottie into my arms, I bundled him up in the tail of my shirt—much to his protests—and sighed as one of the paramedics draped a blanket around my shoulders.

  “Is there anywhere you can go?” the paramedic asked.

  “Yeah,” I replied. “I can stay with a friend.”

  “We’ll arrange for transportation shortly. For now, remain here and wait for further instruction. Also,” the man said, extending my computer toward me. “I was told to give this to you.”

  “Thank you,” I said, smiling as I pulled the laptop close to my chest.

  My writing, my parrot, my life—

  All were safe.

  I couldn’t have asked for a greater miracle.

  ***

  “I can’t believe you made it out of there alive,” Ariana said as she drove Scottie and I away from the scene of the fire. “All that smoke, all those flames—”

  “Scottie was the one who woke me up,” I said, reaching up to scratch the parrot’s cheek as he bowed his head against my neck. “Just like the good little bird that he is.”

  “Is he ok?” Ariana asked, lifting her eyes to look at the pair of us in the backseat. “I mean, do we have to take him to an emergency vet or anything?”

  “He seems fine,” I said, turning my head to face the parrot. “Scottie. Do you feel sick?”

  The parrot buzzed and bowed his head for further scratches.

  “I guess that’s a no,” I said, sighing as Ariana shifted lanes and continued to make her way through east Austin. Though her home was literally just around the corner, it was impossible to navigate through many of the roads that surrounded the apartment. As such, we were having to detour—which, in my current state, made me feel absolutely miserable. “I should’ve tried to put some shoes on before I left,” I mumbled, then considered my attire of sweatpants and a T-shirt.

  “You were panicking,” Ariana said. “What do you expect?”

  I shrugged, much to the bird’s displeasure, as he gently nipped and then licked my ear.

  “I’m just glad you and Scottie got out safely,” Ariana continued as she pulled up alongside her east Austin home. “I mean, after Brad left you and all, I wasn’t sure how the two of you would do in that apartment all by yourselves.”

  “My writing career took off at just the right time,” I offered.

  Ariana laughed and popped open the driver’s side door. “Well,” she replied. “Come on.”

  I exited the vehicle and followed her up the sidewalk, careful to avoid slipping into one of the many cracks perforating the concrete as we approached the front porch. Once inside the home, I settled down on the couch with a defeated thud and inhaled a breath of air I felt I’d been holding in for an eternity. “Thanks for coming to get me,” I said.

  “It’s no trouble,” Ariana replied. “Do you need something? Water?”

  “Water!” Scottie said.

  “Water it is,
” Ariana offered, turning and making her way into the kitchen.

  The whole while she was there, filling a small bowl of water and chopping up an apple for Scottie, I couldn’t help but think of Dylan. His eyes, his smile, his gentle, reassuring grip on my body as we’d made our way down the ladder and away from the burning building.

  I hadn’t felt anything like that since Brad had left me three months ago.

  Don’t, I thought, but betrayed my conscience anyway by thinking of the way our bodies had felt against one another’s.

  “The fireman who saved you,” Ariana said as she returned with Scottie’s apple and water. “Did you get his name, by chance?”

  “I did,” I replied. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I just figured that maybe you could track him down—thank him again. Give him a copy of Blood Magic or something.”

  “I honestly doubt he’ll want to read about vampires,” I replied, acknowledging Scottie only briefly as he shimmied down my arm to reach the apple and water. “Besides—doesn’t that seem kind of… I don’t know… weird?”

  “To track down someone and thank them for saving you and your parrot’s life?” Ariana asked. “No. I don’t think that’s weird at all. Besides—he’d probably think it was sweet. And who knows? Maybe he’s your knight in shining armor.”

  “He was my knight in shining armor,” I replied. “Not is.”

  “Chase—”

  “I’m not going to get my hopes up,” I said, wagging my hand at her to dismiss what I considered was her foolish reaching. “That’s all I’m going to say.”

  “All right,” Ariana sighed. She cast a glance down the nearby hallway and said, “I think I still have that old carrier we can put Scottie in for the night, at least until you can get him a temporary cage.”

  “I’m gonna have to take out a loan or something,” I replied. “I lost everything in that fire. My ID. My cards. My books.”

  “At least you and the bird are safe,” Ariana said.

  “Yeah!” Scottie agreed.

  I smiled.

  Yeah.

  At least the two of us were safe.

  Chapter Two

  I decided to take Ariana up on her suggestion the following morning. After I purchased Scottie a cage at the pet store, I went to work tracking down a copy of my most recent novel at the local bookstore. I then, after inscribing it to the man who had saved my life, had Ariana drive me around the various fire departments until we located one that employed a man by the name Dylan.

  “Is it really him though?” Ariana asked as the chief fireman made his way toward the back to locate the man who had saved my life.

  “Let’s hope so,” I replied.

  I waited with unexpected anticipation—wondering how, or if, he would remember me after all the people he’d surely assisted last night. I mean, I knew I stuck out—if only because of the bird—but just because I stuck out didn’t mean that he would reciprocate what was undoubtedly advance.

  Oh well, I thought. I might as well try.

  I’d avoided dating after Brad’s departure—mainly out of fear of rejection and the possibility of ending up in yet another screwed up relationship. His alcoholism had really worn me down in the end there, and as such, I hadn’t been able to force myself out to the clubs. A drink or two was fine every once in a while, but every night?

  I shook my head.

  The chief fireman appeared from behind the corner. “Mr. Bennett?” the man asked.

  “Yes?” I replied, standing.

  “Dylan’s here if you’d like to see him.”

  I swallowed a lump in my throat as I stepped forward.

  Good luck, Ariana mouthed.

  I nodded, stepped through the threshold, and almost immediately ran into another person who was approaching from the opposite direction.

  “Sorry,” I said, lifting my eyes. “I didn’t mean—”

  I stopped when I saw none other than Dylan looking back at me. “Oh,” he said, reaching up to run a hand across his face, almost as if he wasn’t sure I was real or not. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” I replied, suddenly at a loss for words now that I was within the man’s presence. “I… I—”

  “Boss said you wanted to see me?” the man asked. Out of his uniform, he looked absolutely stunning. Thick pectoral muscles, heavily-corded arms, veins snaking their surfaces from the effort to draw blood into his well-defined muscles—I could only imagine the body underneath, but quickly shook that notion off and returned my attention to his face—which was hard, considering he was at least six inches taller than me.

  “Yeah,” I replied, extending the novel out to him. “I… wanted to thank you for what you did for me and my bird last night. And give you this.”

  He accepted the white novel with a single drop of blood on the cover and mumbled, “Chase Bennett,” before looking up at me. “You’re Chase Bennett,” he then said.

  “Yeah,” I replied.

  “You’re a writer?”

  “I dabble in it on and off,” I replied, swallowing the nervous lump that was quickly developing in my throat.

  “Dude,” he said, swiping through the pages with feverish intent. “That’s fucking awesome.”

  “Thanks,” I smiled.

  “No wonder you were so eager to save your computer,” he added. “Probably working on your next masterpiece, aren’t you?”

  “I’ve been trying,” I said, reaching up to cup the back of my neck. I held my hand there for several long moments before lowering it and saying, “I should probably go now. I don’t want to bother you while you’re on the job.”

  “I’m always on the job,” Dylan laughed, reaching up to scratch at the thick hairs at his chin. “Speaking of job… I appreciate you coming out here and finding me. It mustn’t have been easy looking for one particular Dylan in all of the Austin fire department.”

  “No,” I replied, “but it was worth it.”

  “Was it?” he asked.

  Was it? I thought, stunned into submission.

  I looked into his beautiful green eyes—at the complex and ornate tattoos slithering down one arm and up the other—and tried to determine just what exactly he had meant by that. Was he baiting me into saying something? To ask him out? To see if he would respond? Just why, exactly, was he asking me such an open-ended question?

  Unable to know unless I responded, I cleared my throat and said, “Again: thank you.”

  “Hey, Chase,” Dylan said, catching me before I could fully turn and begin to make my way out of the fireman’s lounge. His touch on me was like fire, his fingertips magnets that pulled to their surfaces every inch of my want and need for physical, human companionship.

  “Yeah?” I asked.

  “I’ll give this a read,” he said. “There’s a way to contact you in the back, right? To tell you how it is?”

  “Yeah,” I replied. “My email’s right there.”

  “Cool. Guess I’ll be seeing you around then.”

  “Yeah. I guess so,” I said.

  I waited until I left his presence before breaking into the stupidest grin imaginable.

  The hunky fireman was going to read my book and get back to me?

  I couldn’t be any happier if I tried.

  ***

  I worked to reestablish my life over the course of the next few days. Getting an updated picture taken at the DMV, receiving a temporary card from my bank, buying new clothes, groceries to help Ariana out as she housed me—always, though, I thought of Dylan, of his words, of how easily he’d accepted my gift without question, and always I wondered when he would get back to me. Given that I was hooked up to Ariana’s WIFI, I would be able to receive his email at any given time, but the anticipation was literally killing me, to the point where I threw myself into my writing so much that I stayed up for several sleepless nights working on the manuscript I hoped would sell to my agent.

  Three days after delivering the book to Dylan Cross at the fire station, I received a
notification in my email box stating that I had a new message.

  A new message? I thought. From who?

  I opened the email to find the following message:

  TO: CHASE BENNETT

  FROM: DYLAN CROSS

  Hey Chase. It’s Dylan. Would you like to meet up this afternoon for coffee or lunch? Let me know in a reply to this email. I’ll be eagerly awaiting your response. - D

  “What’re you looking at?” Ariana asked as she walked in through the front door. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Or a hot fireman’s email,” I replied.

  “Really?” the Italian woman asked. She set down the bag which contained her various social work documents and came running to the kitchen table. After scouring the email’s contents for several moments, she smiled and asked, “Well?”

  “Well… what?” I frowned.

  “Have you answered?”

  “Not yet,” I said.

  “But you’re going to,” she replied. “Aren’t you?”

  “I am, I am,” I laughed, moving to hit the REPLY button on the email client. “Give me a minute.”

  She waited, her impatience more than clear in the fire in her dark eyes, and eyed the computer screen in feverish anticipation. “GO!” she cried.

  “Okay!” I cried back.

  I typed a quick response back to Dylan, penning a simple, Yes! I would love to meet you for lunch! before asking where he would like to meet.

  “You think you can drop me off if he doesn’t decide to pick me up?” I asked.

  “Of course,” she replied. “But I’m sure he knows you don’t have a car and’ll probably be willing to—”

  The inbox dinged.

  Send me your address, was Dylan’s response. I’ll pick you up in thirty.

  Ariana screeched, jumped up and down, caused Scottie—who was sitting in his cage watching cartoons on the nearby TV—to cry out in surprise. “WHAT?” he asked.

  “The nice fireman just asked me out on a date,” I replied to the parrot.