Текст книги "From the Wreckage"
Автор книги: Melissa Collins
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“Can you believe we finally did it?” Jade raises her glass of Merlot and clinks it against my beer.
“Here’s to six long years!” Dragging out the word long, I laugh before taking a sip of my beer. In one huge gulp, she finishes her drink, all while my lips are still on the rim of my glass. She does not appreciate the look I shoot her across the table.
“What? We just finished grad school. I can live a little.” Jade arches an eyebrow as she wiggles her finger in my face. “I’m getting another one. You want?”
Holding up my still very full mug, I eye her over the rim. “Nah, I think I’m good.”
In true Jade fashion, she sticks out her tongue at me as she struts away from the table. I love this girl, but man she can be a trip sometimes. Having lived with her for four years as college roommates, and the last two while we worked through grad school, I know pretty much everything there is to know about her. Like right now, she’s leaning up against the guy at the bar, slowly dragging her finger down his arm. Stopping at his bicep, she squeezes it and her face twists into one of appreciation. Totally stroking his ego, her main intention is to get a free drink. And oh, would you look at that, a free drink is exactly what she gets. Even though I know she can’t see me, I roll my eyes at her antics.
When the guy turns toward the bartender to pay, Jade peers over at me, a smug ‘I told you so’ look plastered on her face. After handing her the glass of wine, Mr. I Just Got Roped Into Buying a Drink makes a motion to escort Jade onto the dance floor, which, of course, she declines. Pointing over to me in my lonely existence at our booth, I’m sure I make for the perfect excuse.
When she slides back into her seat, I can’t suppress the laughter.
“You’re too much, you know that?”
“Why? Because I can con a guy into buying me an $8.00 glass of wine. I’d say that’s a skill.”
“Sure,” I quip sarcastically. “Put that right on your résumé. It’ll help you land a job in no time.”
Opting for a small sip instead of a large gulp like before, Jade eyes me from across the table. Paying no attention to my previous words, she huffs a sigh at me. “Actually, I’d call it a gift. And if you got out there more often, shake what your momma gave you, then you’d get a freebie every now and then, too, you know.”
That comment alone almost makes me choke on my beer. “Shake what my momma gave me? Are you serious?” As my lips pull into a thin line of cynicism, I shoot her a wry look. “First of all—”
“Oh, yay. It’s a list. I love when you get all listy on me.” Her sarcasm cuts me off mid-sentence. Bouncing playfully in her seat, she claps her hands, mocking me with a delicate balance of love and playfulness.
Holding up one finger for extra emphasis of her love for my lists, I continue with my original statement. “Yes, first of all, you can get guys to buy you drinks all you want. Look at you, you’re . . . you’re . . .” I pause, looking for the right word before landing on, “stunning. You’re absolutely stunning, Jade. Guys drool over you and your mile-long legs.”
“Sweetie, that’s nice of you to say, but they drool over you, too. You just never pay attention.”
“And that, my friend, brings me to my second point.” After taking another sip of my beer, I hold up two fingers this time. Wiggling them back and forth in her face causes us both to laugh at the silliness. “And second of all, I don’t need a hot guy to buy me a drink. I already have a boyfriend.” The last words carry a playfully smug ‘this ought to be fun’ tone, one which causes Jade to laugh.
Though she might think the boys drool over me, I’m not so sure she’s right. Besides, I wasn’t kidding when I said she was stunning. Standing at around five foot nine inches tall, Jade is fit enough to be a model. With dark ebony skin, she looks like Naomi Campbell. Her mocha eyes are set in a perfect face—perfect cheekbones, perfect nose, perfect lips—hell, even her forehead is flawless.
I mean, do people even rate the perfectionism of foreheads? Because if they do, Jade’s would top their list.
Essentially, she’s everything I’m not. I’m the short to her tall, the curves to her sleek lines. Where everything about her is rich and exotic, I’m pale and bland. Nothing says Irish like dark red hair and blue eyes. Oh, and the freckles, you can’t forget the freckles.
“Speaking of boyfriends,”—Jade waves over the top of my head—“here comes Blake now.” Even though she tries to hide it, the disdain she feels toward him drips from every word. I love her for at least trying to disguise it.
“Hey, babe.” Blake slinks into the booth next to me, pulling me close to his side. When the guy from the bar comes over to our table a few seconds later, a friend in tow, Blake’s arm tenses around my shoulders. What started out as a casual show of our relationship, turns into a grip with the sole purpose of staking his claim on me. Jade rolls her eyes, not in any way whatsoever attempting to cover up her disapproval of Blake’s behavior.
Extending his hand to Jade, bar guy introduces himself as Johnny. “And this is Chris. So, how about that dance?”
Before either of us can say anything, Blake answers for us. “Thanks for the offer, but I think I’m good. Oh and so are the ladies.” Blake’s face twists into a mean look, all hard angles and thin lips as he shoos the guys away.
Jade stands from her seat, not at all attempting to veil her anger this time. “I’ll catch up with you later, Gracie.” As she walks away, I uncurl myself out from under Blake’s arm.
“Why’d you do that?” My question bounces off the back of his head as he turns to flag down a waitress. Blake and I have only been together a few weeks. I wouldn’t consider it much of anything serious, but I think he sees it as more than it is. He can be over-protective and overtly macho at times—all the more reason for Jade not to like him.
He didn’t start out like this. In fact, we were friends for a few months before we started dating. Paired up in an economics class, we spent a lot of time together in study sessions. He did little to hide his interest in me. Having never really been the center of someone’s attention, I’ll be the first to admit, I ate it up. Sure, I caught minute signs of his jealousy every now and then, but there was a small part of me that loved it.
Someone wanted me. That was good enough for me.
At first.
Now, it crawls under my skin and festers there, like an oozing blister I can’t help but pick at. Being the best friend she is, Jade tries to support me, especially since I haven’t voiced any of my recent concerns to her.
I’ve tried my best to ignore it, to pretend like it’s not a big deal, but when he turns around to face me, the flash of meanness I see in his face puts me on edge. “I’ve told you before, I don’t like you talking to other guys.” His voice carries this ‘take no bullshit’ quality to it that I really don’t appreciate. In the few weeks we’ve been seeing each other, I’ve tried my best to see his decent qualities, the ones which attracted me to him in the first place.
But, the more I get to know him, the more I realize those qualities might have just been a show to lure me in.
“What’s her problem anyway? She’s such a bitch. Never understood why you were friends with her in the first place.” My mouth hangs open at his snide words. “Can’t say I’m not thrilled you won’t be living with her any more. Can’t stand that bit–”
Shoving away from him, I cut him off mid-sentence. “Oh no, you don’t.” My voice is filled with sass and more than a touch of anger. “She”—I point to Jade and Johnny out on the dance floor—“is my best friend. And you”—I poke a finger at his chest, hard—“are nothing but a . . . a . . . jerk.” He laughs at my stammering.
Since the bench is open on both sides, I slide away from him and stand by the edge of the table. “This isn’t working, Blake.” Waving my hands between us, he knows exactly what I mean by “this.”
With menacing slowness, he moves toward me, scooting along the green leather seat. Standing in my physical space, reminds me of how much larger he is than me.
What was I thinking? What did I ever see in him? I ask myself as he looks down at me, a syrupy sweet look plastered to his hard face.
“Maybe we should talk outside, Grace.” My name falls from his lips like a curse as his fingers curl around my wrist in a vise grip. His eyes glaze over as his dilated pupils eat up all of the color that would be there. Any sense of the man I thought he was is replaced by the image of this stranger before me.
In a split second, he changes tactics. Being overly sweet, a lazy smile spreads across his face and his hard eyes soften, as does his grip on me. “Sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to get mad,” he coos, sweeping a piece of hair out of my eyes. “I just want you all to myself.” Pulling me to his side, he presses an affectionate kiss to the top of my head.
Not wanting to ruin the night, I let him hold me for a few seconds. Stepping back, I look up at him. “It’s okay. Just try to calm it down a bit, please,” I beg, adding a hint of seduction to my words in the hopes of keeping him quiet the rest of the night.
“Sure thing, babe.” He nods in agreement. “I’m going to go grab a drink. Want anything?”
“Another beer, please.” I move back to the bench as he struts away.
That boy is so complicated; his mood swings give me whiplash. His temperamental attitudes, however, are wearing thin. So even though I can play nicely for the rest of the night, I brace myself knowing a very real conversation with him about his behavior and its impact on our would-be future is on the very near horizon. Lost to my own internal musings about ending things with Blake, I don’t even see Jade as she returns to the table. Pulling my almost emptied mug from my hand, she chugs down the last sips of my beer before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“That man can dance something fierce.” Chuckling, she points to Johnny, who’s standing at the bar next to Blake.
“Did his panties unbunch?” Her words are heavily laced with cynicism.
Leaning forward, I try my best to keep my voice as low as possible. “For now, but I’m not so sure about us.” At the mention of the last part, Jade also leans forward. Placing her hands over mine, her face twists in concern.
“What did he do?” Seriousness fills the small space between us.
Shaking my head, I try to put into words the very distinct feeling I just had about him. “I think it’s more than just being a little jealous. I don’t know. There was something in his eyes. Actually, it was what wasn’t in his eyes. He was cold and hard. I just don’t see myself with him for much longer.”
Deep down, I know those words make Jade happier than she’ll ever admit to. She doesn’t have any time to react or to engage in the conversation we so obviously need. Wordlessly, she tips her head over my shoulder as Blake and Johnny approach from behind.
“Blake,” she greets him icily.
“Jade.” He does the same.
Johnny makes himself cozy next to Jade, handing her a glass of wine. Of course, I give her the stink eye as I hold up three fingers. “Oh, shush, you.” She swats at me with her hand and Johnny laughs along with her. “Loosen up, Grace. We’re college graduates. Drink up, would you?”
Three glasses go up in the air and Blake’s arm slides around my shoulder. “To Jade and Grace and their bright futures.”
His toast leaves me speechless, and since I don’t have any words in my mouth, I fill it with beer. In her life-long quest to have me loosen up, Jade starts chanting “chug it, chug it” as I start to pull my mug away from my mouth. Of course Johnny and Blake join in.
Surprising even myself, I figure what the hell. Three gulps later, my mug is empty and my head a touch fuzzy. Never having been a huge drinker, downing two beers in less than thirty minutes has me feeling good and buzzed.
After slamming the mug down on the table, I call out, “Let’s dance.”
Rushing to the dance floor, Jade, Johnny, Blake and I join Johnny’s friend, Chris, and the girl he’s paired up with. The music is pumping so loud, I barely hear her introduce herself. I think she says her name is AnnMarie, but I could definitely be wrong.
With the lights flashing and the music blasting, it’s easy to lose myself. Blake’s hands roam all over as his body presses into mine from behind. Though I would normally pull back from his outward display of public affection, tonight I lean into it willingly. Spinning around in the circle of his arms, I loop mine around his neck and consider stretching up on my tiptoes. I know if our lips meet in what should be a hot kiss, the only fluttering I’ll feel would be from the alcohol.
Blake’s little pissing match from before, cemented some concerns I already had about him. So now, instead of thoughts about stripping my boyfriend down when we get back to his apartment, the only thing running through my head is how I can break things off with him.
Luckily, just as I begin to pull back from him, a loud siren rings over the music. The crowd erupts into a huge round of applause. Lots of woohooing screams fill the air and as I scan the crowd, I see all of the girls racing toward the front of the bar.
“What the hell?” I call out to Jade, who simply shrugs. Stretching up on her toes, she can easily see above most of the other people here, but she still can’t see what all the fuss is about.
That’s when Johnny leans in and explains the scene playing out before us. “You ladies have never been here, huh?” Both Jade and I shake our heads, eager to hear the rest.
“This place isn’t called ‘Smoke’ for nothing. It’s a firefighter bar and those guys”—he points across the room—“just finished their shift.” Jade’s eyes widen at the mention of firefighters. So do mine, but I try my best to shield it from Blake, knowing full well it’ll piss him off.
Having spent the last six years of my life in New York City for college and grad school, I developed a healthy appreciation for New York’s bravest. Hell, I challenge any red-blooded American woman not to. And I’m pretty sure their effect can be felt outside of America as well.
When the loud roar of the crowd dies down somewhat, we make our way back over to our table only to find that it’s been occupied. “Bar?” Blake asks against my ear.
“Sure,” I try my best to disguise the excitement in my response, but Jade can sense it. That’s where the group of firefighters is and even though I can’t touch, it sure won’t kill me to look.
“Wait for me.” Jade falls in line with us as Johnny grabs hold of her hand. Yeah, she’s just as excited as I am.
When the guys are turned toward the bar ordering our drinks, Jade leans down and whispers, “How the hell have we never been here before? A bar dedicated to firefighters? It’s like we’ve died and gone to Heaven.”
“I know.” I pitch my voice low so Blake can’t hear me, but can’t stop myself from jumping up and down in excitement.
“What’re you two chatting about?” Blake asks suspiciously as he hands me my drink.
“Oh, nothing,” Jade deflects, looping her arm through Johnny’s. “Gracie and I were just talking about how great this place is.”
Seemingly placated, Blake takes a long pull on his beer and scans the room. “Doesn’t seem like anything special to me,” he huffs.
“Oh, I don’t know. Gracie, what do you think?” Shooting Jade a death-ray stare, I try to stop her from egging Blake on, but it’s really no use. The two of them are like oil and water and I can barely blame Jade; she’s just the easier one to reason with.
“Come on, Gracie, let’s dance.” Jade pulls me back out onto the dance floor when a new song starts up and I’m glad for it. Seems like the further away from Blake I am, the more fun I have.
Three times.
I heard the name three times.
My head always turns when I hear the name Gracie, but my eyes never fall on someone who looks even remotely familiar.
But the woman dancing out there looks just what my Gracie would–at least the vision that’s in my head.
It has been eighteen years after all, but there are some things you just don’t forget. For me, it’s two things—her hair and her laughter. Both bright streaks of light in a mostly dark world.
As I lean my elbows back against the bar, those are the two things screaming at me, telling me that the woman out there just has to be my Gracie.
“See something you like?” Ian elbows me in my side, nearly knocking my drink out of my hand as he does.
“Huh?” I pull myself back to the here and now, away from the girl I knew so long ago. “Uh, no. Just spaced out there for a minute.” Avoiding having to say anything else, I swallow back the rest of my Jack and Coke.
After placing the empty glass on the bar, I turn back to face the dance floor immediately. There’s a pull to her—the girl dancing out there with her friend. Sure, she’s beautiful—not all that graceful, but she’s moving like she’s having fun. A lazy grin pulls at my lips as I watch her stumble a little as she dances. Her friend rights her and they laugh like it’s the funniest thing they’ve ever witnessed.
“Here you go, man.” Ian hands me a shot and while they’re generally not my thing, we’ve all just had a crazy shift. Loosening up with a few drinks when I don’t have to be at work again for another two days isn’t a terrible idea.
By the time we’re done with our shots, I try to find Gracie out there, but all I catch is a glimpse of her back as she walks off to the bathrooms with her friend.
“She’s really caught your eye, huh?” Ian asks as we walk over to a high-top off to the side of the bar.
“Not really.” Yeah, it’s a lame defense, one that Ian sees straight though. He shoots me a ‘cut the shit’ look and I give in. “Okay, fine. She’s cute.”
“The redhead? No, she’s not cute, man. You need to get your eyes checked. She’s smokin.’” His voice has that ‘on the hunt’ quality to it, and it irks me more than it should.
Cocking an eyebrow at him, I laugh. “You’re really going with smokin’? Can’t come up with anything more original?”
Shrugging, he leans back in his chair. “What do you expect? Some Shakespeare shit? Yeah, that is most definitely not going to happen.”
“Fine, she’s more than cute. But she has the same name as someone I used to know when I was a kid. I was looking at her to see if I could figure out if it was her or not.” My answer is mostly truthful. To be honest, trying to figure out if she is the Gracie I rescued from that fire all those years ago is only part of the reason I was staring at her. The other reason is plain as day.
She is smokin.’
By the time I finish telling Ian the rest of the story about what had happened when Gracie’s house burned down, I see her walking back out of the hallway where the bathrooms are located. As she walks toward the bar, a guy grabs her, pulling her through the crowd.
The music is too loud for me to hear anything, but the look on her face says everything I need to know. He’s hurting her and not letting go. Jumping down from my stool, I start to walk over to them. Her friend is trying to get in the middle of them, but it’s not working.
“Where the hell did you go?” The guy is practically yelling in her face.
“Blake, you’re hurting me. Let go.” She squeaks, trying in vain to pry his hand off her arm.
Walking up behind him, he doesn’t see me, but she does. Her eyes go wide when my hand drops to his shoulder. “Excuse me, but I think the lady said you were hurting her.” I tip my chin at his claw-like grip on her arm.
After releasing her, she rubs a hand over where he’d just held her. Relief washes over her face as her friend pulls her away from the asshole.
“And who the hell do you think you are?” he seethes at me.
A smug chuckle bubbles out of my mouth. “Someone who knows enough never to lay a hand on a woman.” Stepping past him, I make sure to brush my shoulder against his with more than a little force.
“What the fuck?” he yells, grabbing my arm and pulling me back to his face.
I’ve got a few inches on him and I revel in the fact that I can look down at him as I say, “You might want to reconsider that.” My eyes travel down to his hand on my arm.
“And you might want to reconsider sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong,” he retorts nastily. At least he’s smart enough to take his hand off me. “Mind your own fucking business,” he adds before turning toward the table where the girls are.
Following behind him, I want to make sure he leaves Gracie alone, and I want to make sure she’s okay, too.
“Get the hell away from her,” the other girl yells, standing as Blake approaches the table.
“Stay the fuck out of this, Jade,” he mutters. Pushing past her, he almost knocks her down.
With a quick side-step, I move around Blake and help steady Jade before she stumbles over completely. “You okay?” I ask, holding her at arm’s length.
Wordlessly, she nods and I let go of her. Luckily, I’m able to turn my attention back to Blake and Gracie just as he’s about to pull her from the bench.
Twisting his arm around his back, I make sure he doesn’t lay a finger on her. “Listen, asshole. Why don’t you leave these girls alone? They clearly don’t want you around, so get out of here and make everyone happy. Okay?” When he nods, I let him go.
A quiet and shaky voice cuts through the glacial stare in which Blake and I are locked. “Blake, go. Please. I’ll talk to you tomorrow when you’ve calmed down.”
“Hell no!” he yells. “I’m not leaving you here with this guy.” He pokes me in the chest and I rein in my desire to punch this asshole right in the face.
“You’re coming home with me. Now,” he demands.
Gracie stands from her seat and steps between us. “Blake,” she says calmly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You should go before you say or do something you’ll regret. I’ll call you tomorrow. I promise.”
I want to interject and ask why the hell she’s being so nice, why she’s promising to call him when it’s so clear he doesn’t deserve her time. But I bite my lip instead and stand behind her, a bodyguard of sorts.
“This is fucking bullshit.” He throws his arms up in the air, before storming off like a child throwing a temper tantrum.
When he’s gone, she turns to me, dropping a soft hand to my forearm. “Thanks for helping out.” Her voice is still a bit shaky.
“Of course,” I choke out. The feel of her hand on my skin has me so screwed up I can’t even get an intelligent sentence out. My eyes are glued to hers, searching for some kind of answer hidden there. The freckles, which were so prominent on her face when she was a kid, are still there. They’ve faded a touch, but the peaches and cream skin is the same as I remember.
With my name dangling from my lips, I’m about to introduce myself just as Jade interrupts. “You really need to kick his sorry ass to the curb.”
Sighing, Grace sinks back down into her seat. “I know, I know. Sorry I ruined the night.”
“Are you kidding? He’s gone now. That makes everything even better.” Jade winks at me before asking if we want anything to drink. We both decline and watch her walk toward the bar.
Holding her head in her hands, she’s covering her face. “I’m such an ass,” she mutters.
“Hey, you did nothing wrong,” I say, pulling her hands away from her pretty face. “He’s the one who’s an ass.”
With an exaggerated huff, she flips her hair out of her eyes and looks at me across the table. “Thanks for that and thanks for helping me out.” She stands, her shoulders slumped, her voice taking on a defeated quality. “I’m just not feeling it anymore tonight. I think I’ll head home.”
As she walks past me to get Jade from the bar, I drop my hand to her shoulder, causing her to jump a little. “Sorry,” I apologize, though it’s Blake who’s the one who clearly set her on edge. Her eyes fall to my hand and then move back up to mine. Something passes between us in that moment, but before I can figure it out, Ian races up behind me. He runs into me so hard, he nearly knocks me over.
Clapping a hand to my back, he calls out, “Finally talking to that hottie, huh, Dave,” he slurs, clearly drunk already. Gracie scans my face, her eyes squinting as if she’s trying to see me through some bright glare. The need to shut Ian up overrides the hope I feel at Gracie possibly recognizing me.
Unfortunately, dropping a hard elbow to his ribs doesn’t seem to do the trick. “You are something fine. Damn, girl.” He gives Grace a head to toe once-over before she rolls her eyes at him.
“You’re an ass, Ian,” I mutter.
“Thanks, again, but I think I’ve had my fair share of rudeness for the night,” she snaps, pulling away from me before I can even tell her who I am, but if I’m not mistaken, her eyes drop to my chest before holding my gaze one last time.
“Love watching you leave,” Ian calls out when she’s a few steps away. Fuck, do I want to knock him out, but I can’t argue with him.
Watching her—and all her curves—strut away from me, it’s not a sight for the faint of heart.
In the two weeks since the bar encounter with Grace and Blake, I haven’t been able to get her off my mind. Hell, I even went back to the same bar a few times just to see if she’d be there.
She wasn’t.
I have to laugh at myself, though. It’s not like me to pine over a girl. On the other hand, I’ve never been a ‘hit it and quit it’ kind of guy, so the fact that I can’t stop thinking about her isn’t all that strange.
One thing is for sure, I need to clear my head before I go to work. Jamming the last of my things into my bag, I finish putting together what I need for my forty-eight hour shift. Most of my stuff is in my locker at work, but extra work-out clothes are always a necessity.
Many people would probably say they hate driving through the city. The cab drivers alone make it less than enjoyable. But I’ve always loved the drive to work. Yeah, it’s deep in the heart of Manhattan, and it would probably be easier to take the train. But the sights, sounds, and smells—the ones that aren’t urine, anyway—you don’t get those on the train and in the subway. After parking the car, I grab my bag and make my way into the station.
I would call it my home away from home, but that’d be a lie. This is home and my apartment is just somewhere I sleep when I’m not here. Garry, the dispatcher, greets me at the door. With his heels kicked up on the desk, he’s quietly sipping a cup of coffee while everyone else is in the back of the house eating breakfast.
After unloading my stuff into my locker, I make my way downstairs and grab a cup of coffee, and a plate of eggs for myself. Everyone looks half asleep, barely saying a word as they devour their food.
“Rough night?” I ask to no one in particular.
Mickey, a three-year veteran, pipes up above everyone else’s indiscriminate muttering. “Had a run like every hour last night. Stupid shit, too.”
I laugh around the rim of my mug, but part of me feels bad for them. A night of no sleep, taking care of routine calls, without getting much time in between to catch a break is exhausting.
Before long, the rest of the day crew is here. Ian is here today, too. I’ve been kind of tight-lipped on how he screwed up my chances to talk to Grace. The last thing he needs is more fuel to feed the fire of him ribbing on me.
“We’re on hose detail this morning,” Ian calls to me after looking over the task sheet.
“Perfect,” I say, walking past him toward the rig.
Shooting me a confused look, he asks, “Why’s that?”
“No one has more experience playing with hoses than you, right?” I joke. Sadly, this is the perfect place for middle school humor.
“I’m sure you have just as much, asshole.” Ian hoists himself up into the truck. Fidgeting with the gauges and tank readers, he records the necessary details we need to complete our paperwork. As he scribbles down the last of the data, the sirens go off, signaling the truck we’re working on is needed in action.
Those are the moments the house comes to life. The men race around the truck, stepping into their bunker gear where it lays in wait for the sounds we’ve just heard. After the firefighter who operates the engine gets all the details from dispatch, and the captain, a twenty-something-year veteran named Peter Gallagher, buckles in, we’re off to our fire.
Winding through the streets of lower Manhattan will never stop being a thrill. Even after three years on the job, it still excites me. It’s pretty much every boyhood dream come true, and I get to do it almost every day of my life.
How freaking awesome is that?
“Let’s do this boys!” I call out as the truck pulls to a screeching halt in front of a twenty-five-story financial building. Captain Gallagher calls out orders, and people evacuating the building are lead to the side. From my vantage point, I see smoke billowing out of what looks to be around the tenth floor. “Stretch out those legs, fellas,” I joke, pointing up to the smoke-filled window. “We’ve got a trek up ahead of us.”
Shooting me a stern look, Gallagher pulls us in for a huddle. “Andrews and Mack.” He points a gnarled finger at me and Ian. A true old-schooler, he essentially refuses to call anyone by their first name. Hell, he won’t even call Ian by his full last name. Gallagher once told Ian that MacMillan takes too much time, and as a probie, he wasn’t worth the extra few seconds of his oxygen—all in good humor of course. “You two take the south stairwell,” yelling above the chaos swallowing the scene around us, he points at an old blue print. At first, he hated the addition of tablets, bitching that they’d slow us down. But the ease with which they allow him to look up the blueprints for each and every building on our call radius, well, needless to say, he didn’t hate them for too long. “Miller and Gonzalez, you’re with them,” he concludes his directive at us, before rattling off instructions to the rest of the crew.
By the time we make it to the seventh floor, we’re all a little winded. But, with almost seventy pounds of gear on our backs, it’s to be expected. The smoke filtering down the stairwell isn’t helping much either. Hunkering down behind the door, Ian tests it to see how hot it is. “Lucky for us,” he speaks into his dispatch receiver. “The fire hasn’t reached this side of the floor, yet.”
