The Fireman I Loved to Hate by Jenna Gunn
Chapter 8
“Got a call from one of the boathouses, Alex. It’s your specialty,” Ben says.
I hope it’s not near Marina Road. It’s been a couple of days since my hot hookup with Raina, and I’m not sure how to handle any of it. I could use a good distraction, but I ask, “What do you mean, it’s my specialty?”
“Kittens in the rafters.”
“Oh screw this,” I stomp to the radio and ask, “Terri, why can’t animal control get this one?”
“Anything over six feet is your territory, Alex.”
Ben grins up at me, until he sees the look on my face. “Hey, man, I’d take it, but Cap is on my ass about my reports as it is, and I’m on my lunch break.”
Tara and Michael are out, Cap won’t go for a kitten run, and so my last option is Bridges. I give him my hopeful expression and he caves. “Fine, I’ll go with you.”
“I’ll take it.” I tell Terri we’re responding, and we head out. We pack the truck up, and I grab a box for the kittens. Bridges takes the keys and I’m happy to let someone else drive, so I can think. But my thoughts are interrupted.
“So, I wanted to ask you something,” Bridges says.
I’m surprised. “Everything okay, man?”
“For me, yeah. But I wanted to know the same thing about you. You’ve been withdrawn, even for you. Something going on?”
“I’m fine.”
He presses on, “Your sister good? Alyssa? Her family?”
“Yeah, they’re good. Better than good.” She lives in Charleston, married to a rich guy, and owns a cute little bakery. Her life is picture perfect.
“Then, what’s going on?”
“It’s really stupid.”
“What’d you do, man?”
I shake my head at myself. “I had sex with this woman, and-”
“You lost your virginity? Congratulations!”
I punch his deltoid and laugh. “Yeah. Years ago. Not the point, funny guy. You know all the rescues I’ve been doing-”
“That woman, Raina, something?”
“Groves, yeah. Her. When I was on a call out for her cat.”
“You have got to be joking. You are not that dumb.”
I shook my head. “I am that dumb.”
“Don’t you dare tell anyone else at the station. You would lose your job, if that got out, Alex. You can’t be screwing around when you’re on duty. What the hell were you thinking?”
He’s serious. He never uses my name anymore. “Yeah, I know. I didn’t even want to tell you, but I didn’t know who else to talk to.”
“I get that. Everything…went well?”
I nod. “It was the best sex of my life, and we didn’t even do much. But there was this connection. This electric thing between us. And then after, I realized I was still on the clock, so I had to bail, which I felt terrible for-”
“Rightly so.”
“Yeah. And it got awkward at the end.”
Bridges said, “I think that’s like most one-night stands, isn’t it?”
“Says the guy who got married in high school.”
“It was the year after high school, thank you very much.”
“The whole thing…it was so odd. We clicked, better than anyone I’ve ever been with. It felt realer than anything, even though I don’t really know her.”
“Yeah, sure. Right before you lost all common sense and became a threat to your own career.”
“Yeah, before that.”
We pull up to the boathouse dock, and there’s a pair of worried yacht people standing by. Yacht people are obvious. Pastel polos, some sort of white or khaki pants, and deck shoes. They look uptight and unpleasant. Bridges says, “That’s our caller.”
“You wanna be the talker?”
“Yeah, sure. That way, you can get the kittens.”
“I walked into that one, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, you did.”
I carry the ladder, and Bridges brings the box when we go to meet them. The boathouse is huge, with room for three boats. It was designed to look like a cottage. The couple lead us inside and point to where the kittens are. I could have located them by the faint mews.
“I told you exposed rafters would attract animals for nesting, Harold,” the bitter wife says.
He rolls his eyes and retorts, “You said owls, not cats.”
The couple begins to bicker, and we set to work. I prop the ladder up to the rafter, while Bridges waits below. He asks them, “Is the mother cat yours?”
The wife says, “No, she’s a stray that was killing all the native birds. I think she’s run off. She won’t be missed.”
I almost call her a bitch for saying such a terrible thing, but then I remember she’s probably rich enough to be a problem for me. I look around in the rafters and tell Bridges, “She’s right. No mama cat up here.”
“How many kittens?” he asks.
“Six.”
“One for each of us on our shift at the station!”
I roll my eyes. “Hand me the box.” He does, and I collect the tiny furballs. They are so young. Their eyes are still closed. Each one is a different color, too. They wiggle dangerously near the edge, when I try to collect them all. Poor things don’t know I’m here to help.
Bridges says, “I’ll go look for the mother.”
“Yep.” I snatch the last kitten into the box, then hand the box to the bitter wife.
I climb down and take the box back. She says, “They’re so small. Here,” then she unties her cardigan from her shoulders and tucks it in around the kittens.
Given her earlier statement, I was shocked. “I…I’ll make sure we get this back to you.”
She shrugs. “Keep it. I have dozens.”
“If you insist.”
Bridges comes back and says, “Found the mother. She didn’t make it.”
“Damn. What’s going to happen to them?”
-
“Kittens!” Tara squeals like a little girl and leaps to her feet. Ben wakes up from the couch and joins the crowd that is following Bridges to the lounge room table.
“There are six, and I think that means there’s one for each of us,” Bridges says. Tara gets on her phone to find out how to hand-feed kittens, and a war breaks out over who gets which kitten. Even Captain gets in on the action.
I go make my lunch.
When I return, there’s one left. Ben says, “Yours is in the box.”
“I don’t have a cat.”
“You do now,” Bridges says.
I grouse, “Someone else can take it.”
“None of us can take two cats, Alex,” Ben says.
I peek in the box and it’s white with black and orange splotches. The most noticeable splotch is the one around her eyes. Looks like she’s wearing a bandit mask. She’s searching for warmth in the sweater, and I feel a strange need to be her warmth. My heart swells when I pick her up. She squeaks and nibbles on my thumb, like it’ll give her milk.
Tara and Ben take off to get supplies for the brood, but I hardly notice. I’m too fascinated by the furball. Bridges asks, “What are you gonna name her?”
“I’ll probably just give her to someone once she’s strong enough. No point in naming her.”
“Mm, hmm.”
-
“You look like a little thief, don’t you?” I ask the kitten in my bedroom. I’m glad I’ve had her on my off weeks. It’s easier to manage feeding her every two hours at home, instead of at the station. Everyone else has someone they can leave their kitten with, and I’m about to be on again at work. They’ve been making fun of me for sleeping with the kitten on my chest in the lounge armchair, but it’s the easiest way to manage her needs.
Bridges even told me I reminded him of his wife, when she was nursing their babies. Dark circles, under-eye bags, gravel throat.
But that was the first week, which was the worst week. Things are getting better now. Her bright blue eyes are open, except when she’s feeding. She usually falls asleep during that. When I pull the bottle away, she latches onto my finger and plays with it.
I’m falling in love. I can’t help myself.
Then she rolls around and kneads the blanket. I tell her, “You would make excellent pasta, young lady. Are there any pasta-making thieves? Or famous girl thieves?”
She purrs up a storm in response.
“Well, there’s Catwoman, but that’s a little too on the nose…there was a thief in a cartoon. She had a city name, what was…Carmen Sandiego! You are Carmen, aren’t you?”
She purrs harder and topples onto her side, then falls asleep. I’m jealous of her ability to zonk out. It’d be so handy in my line of work.
-
“How is your little girl doing?” Tara bends down to pet Carmen. I was feeding her on my chest in the armchair again, and almost everyone says hi to her before me. I don’t mind.
“It’s going good. She eats all the time.”
“Babies do that,” she says. “Did you settle on a name?”
“Carmen. Like-”
“Carmen Sandiego! Because of the mask? Oh, that’s so cute! And she’s gotten so big.”
“Yeah, she’s started exploring my house.”
Ben asks, “If she’s exploring, what are you going to do, if you get a call today? She can’t stay in a box anymore.”
“I could pass her off to Cap.”
His eyes bulge. “You think Cap will take care of your kitten forever?”
Tara asks, “Have you taken her to the vet yet? She needs her shots. And have you looked into solid foods for her?”
I’m overwhelmed by the tiny furball on my chest. They’re right. I can’t keep her forever. I knew going into this something would have to change, but I had put it out of my mind. “I’m going to need to give her to someone else, aren’t I?”
Tara softly says, “Yeah, Big Guy. You okay?”
“Yes.” I nod. “I know just the person.”
-