Fireman Edition (2 page)

“You need to watch where you’re going, young lady!  Those love pillows you got strapped to your chest stick out so far they require their own zip code!  That’s dangerous!  Are you a stripper in your spare time or something?”  Her voice was so tiny, I considered that maybe I’d heard her wrong. “And I’d watch that ass of yours as well! If you spin around too fast, you could take out a small group of children or something!”

Nope. I hadn’t heard her wrong.

Glancing down at my
ample
bosom and
plump
figure, I glared back at the woman, not willing to take her geriatric insults. The grumbling grandma and I were about to throw down.

“Listen, lady!  I didn’t see you behind the books. It’s not my fault old age has shrunk you back to the size of a five year old.  Maybe you should walk on stilts or something so people know you’re in the area.”

If looks could kill, I was just run over by a mac truck, followed by a bus and finished off by some kid riding a tricycle over my remains while happily ringing his bell.

“Well! In my day, customers were not treated this poorly. I demand to see the manager!” The red to her skin contrasted nicely with the blue of her hair and before long, she resembled the creepy purple dinosaur that’s always singing about love on kids’ shows.

“I am the manager!” I lied, but I wasn’t allowing this sniveling senior to threaten the security of my low paying job. “Tell you what? Why don’t you just let me ring up your cat books so you can get home to your furry family and I can get back to living my life.”

She snickered. Seriously, the tiny terror actually snickered at the notion that I had a life to return to – and sadly, she was right.

“You might want to stock up on your own cat books, by the looks of you. With a body like that and the caustic nonsense that drips from your mouth, I don’t see you having much of a love life when you’re my age.”

The mental imagery was enough to sour my stomach. The woman waved her little arms around while talking and it looked like the skin from a boneless chicken – I couldn’t imagine that same skin bouncing around in the throws of passion.  Somebody could get hurt. 

I looked over her head to see Brad peek out of his office to determine what the commotion was about.  I smiled in his direction and picked up the cat books, ringing them up like I didn’t have a care in the world.  When he finally shuffled back out of view, I glared down at her again.

“That’ll be $50.43.”  I held out my hands waiting for her to pull the cash from her wallet only to see her grin and pull plastic bags full of pennies from her purse instead.

“Seriously?  How in the hell did you even carry those?  They must weigh more than you!”

She cackled this time. Cackled! As she slowly counted out the copper coins, I pondered paying the bill just to get the hag out of my store.  Only problem was: $50.43 was enough to feed me for a week and I wasn’t about to give up my supply of ramen, tuna, and mac and cheese just to hurry her out.

The bill was settled and the grey grinch snatched her package from my hands. Pointing her bony little finger up in my face, she warned. “Like I said: start collecting your cat books now. Might even want to pick up a kitten or two on your way home because I don’t see your life turning out much better than mine.”

With that, she was off, casually staggering through the store, slamming the door behind her as she’d stepped out onto the sidewalk.

My body slumped forward onto the counter. My face was pressed against the cool surface and I wiped at the
angry
tears now dripping from my eyes. That woman had just managed to take my biggest fear and play it on a big screen for all to see. I was terrified of ending up alone with a bunch of little fluffy things running around, demanding food and marking their territory.

Brad finally walked out and I asked, “Hey Brad? If I was a hundred years older - you know – closer to your age, would you be interested in dating me?”

I looked up just in time to see his bushy brows narrowing in reaction to my question. He always looked like a bulldog when his face scrunched up like that.

“I don’t even want to know why you just asked me that question.” He grimaced and pinched the skin between his eyes. “It’s closing time, Jane. Do us both a favor and grab your stuff and get out of my store for the night. I’ll see you in the morning.”

When he stepped outside, the bell above the door rang and I was left alone in a rundown bookstore feeling like the miserable little-old-lady monster had just exposed everything that was pathetic about my life.

Blowing out a heavy sigh, I grabbed my purse, locked the register and flicked off the lights as I made my way through the store. Passing the romance section, I saw the scattered books and walked over to place them back on the shelves. I was bound and determined not to end up like the woman who’d just vomited her misery all over me.  Quickly shuffling through the titles, I selected thirteen books that seemed interesting. I also remembered the hot, thick billionaire hidden within the shelf and reached in to grab it.

I mean – hell – maybe there was something to these books. It wouldn’t kill me to take them home and give ‘em a go; if for nothing else but to find out exactly what I’d been missing while stuck in my shitty rundown apartment and even shittier rundown store. I decided that if the women in the books could find love – so could I. I just had to research to find out exactly how it was done.

I was now a woman on a mission.  It would be
take no prisoners
and
leave no man behind
. I was going to find my own hot, thick package and these books were going to tell me just how to make that happen.

Chapter Two

“
’Riding the Rocker’
? ‘
Boinking the Billionaire’
? ‘
Captivated by my Captor’
? Are you serious right now, Jane?” Rich’s voice was shaking from the laughter he attempted to stifle at my literature choices. “I don’t understand how these are going to help your love life. Aren’t they just a bunch of sex – you know, flowers and stamens and stuff? Or was it swords and sheaths?”

Nonchalantly, I answered, “Well, it depends on if it’s a Victorian book or a pirate book, I suppose; but either way you’re only dealing with the historical novels. There’s a whole catalogue of these bad boys: paranormal, taboo, erotica, contemporary, comedy, new adult and more. I don’t think the specific story matters just as long as they contain one key element.”

He looked up at me and the words
I think you’re a dumbass
might as well have been tattooed across his forehead. “And what’s the key element?”

“Sex.” I thought it was obvious, his questioning expression made me realize that it wasn’t. “I’m serious! I read just a few sentences of that billionaire book and I was hot enough to combust all over the aisle. I’m starting to think the little teenage whack-master is on to something.”

Rich’s black lashes beat quickly over his laughing blue eyes. “Since when is sex so important? I thought you’d sworn off men in favor of your BOB after the last asshat left you panting in a bathroom stall with your skirt pulled up around your waist.”

I shuddered at the memory, but had to defend myself nonetheless. “He’d had too much to drink and couldn’t get it up! That’s not my fault. But that’s beside the point. Look at the titles, Rich. I’ve been going after the wrong guys all along.  I bet none of the women in those books picked up some guy at a bar whose beer belly was big enough to make people wonder if he would give birth. I’m aiming low!”

“You don’t need a book to tell you that, Jane. I’ve been telling you that since before the whole Billy Jenkins fiasco.”

Rich had been my best friend since elementary school, making him well aware of every embarrassing moment I’d ever experienced. He picked up another book and scanned the cover. “
Corralling the Cowboy
?”

Pointing at the cover, I admitted, “That one has a lot of potential.”

He held the book up and I openly admired the rippled muscles of the shirtless model on the front.

“Where are you going to find a cowboy in the middle of inner city New York?” Tossing it aside, he flipped through the rest. “For that matter, where are you going to find a billionaire, or a movie star or a vampire? That’s a mythical creature!”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll figure it out when I get to that one.”

Flipping through the rest of the books, he added, “Hell, all of these men are mythical creatures and I’m damn sure that if you actually read the books, you’d notice that you’re not the standard romance female. Have you noticed there are no pictures? There are only words, Jane, words! You don’t read anything with words unless it’s the television guide or the cooking directions for microwave food.”

“I resemble that remark. Thank you very much.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I attempted to pretend like I was actually hurt by what he’d said. The truth was that he was right. The only reason I bothered to crack a magazine at work was to chase off the boredom and look at the pretty clothes that I could neither afford nor dream I had the figure to wear.

“Jane, maybe you just need to raise your standards. Try getting to know a guy before you jump in bed with him. There’s a lot that’s special about you and any guy would be lucky to have you.”

He shook his head to knock his black hair away from his eyes and I stared down into the same kind smile I’d been looking at for the last seventeen years.  Rich worked as a handyman doing odd jobs around town and made decent money doing it.  I tried to get him to teach me the craft once, but my usual klutziness cost him a client and me over three thousand dollars to get stitched up. I’m still paying it off and I’ll never approach a tool again after that.

He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his broad chest. Rich wasn’t a bad looking guy and he’d dated plenty of women in his lifetime, but he could never find one that was happy dating the typical guy. They all wanted the flash and bang of a rich or extremely good-looking man – two things that Rich could not offer.  But, if they were looking for the barely scraping-by, average looking type, Rich was definitely their guy.

“I am raising my standards.” I grabbed a seat and sat down at the table with him. “I’m refusing the
standard
in my life and shooting for the
standard
in the romance book life. I want the standard romance guy. I’m sure one of them has to be the person to whisk me away from all of this.” I waved my arm to indicate the apartment.

“There’s nothing wrong with
all of this
. You’re inside and out of the cold and rain isn’t falling on your head.”

I eyed him.

“Okay, well not unless you go into that one corner in the kitchen, but the landlord is supposed to be fixing that.”

“Why don’t YOU fix that?”

He eyed me back. “Because the last thing I want to do when I come home is fix shit. It’s what I do all day long. Would you like having to come home to sling books and clean up cum stains left behind by horny teens?”

He had a point.

“Plus, I did fix it. There’s a bucket under it.”

“You have to hold an umbrella just to cook on rainy days.”

“I’ll cook on rainy days. I would hate for your princess self to have to hold an umbrella.” He smiled.

“Deal! Now, back to my books. I have to find each and every one of these guys and date them to figure out which one will be my happily ever after. How would you go about doing something like that?” I was pondering aloud as Rich sighed.

“I don’t know.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Put an ad in the paper or on the internet maybe?”

A light bulb went off over my head. “Perfect! I’ll make the men come to me. Even better! Maybe a ‘Help Wanted’ ad or something in the personals. I’m mean, technically, I’m interviewing for love, but it might get more attention in the work for hire section.”

“Are you paying these guys?”

“Hell no! I can just call an escort service if I needed something like that!”

“Then keep it in the personals.”

This was perfect. I would place an ad online and in the paper. Surely, someone would see it and come running. It was almost too easy.

“Well, what’s my hook?”

Rich pinched the bridge of his nose and I wondered why everybody seemed to do that around me.

“Are you getting sick or something?”

He pulled his hand down and shot me a pointed look. “No. I’m not sick.”

“Okay.”

“Maybe you should just tell the truth.  Something along the lines of:
Crazy Lunatic seeks Thirteen Different Men in Hopes of Finding Love
?”

The light bulb sparked.

“Oh wait.  That should say
Twelve Different Men and One Vampire.”
He chortled and I ignored him.

Winking at my bestie from across the table, I responded. “No worries. I got this.”

. . .

“Woman Seeks Thirteen Men to Fulfill her Standard Romance Story: Single woman in the New York area seeks men in the following categories to embark on one date and determine if true love exists.  If you are billionaire, a fireman, an alpha male, a lawyer, a rock star, a movie star, a biker, a teacher, a street fighter, a professional athlete, a tattooed bad boy, a vampire or a kidnapper/captor, please contact Jane at 555-5252 to schedule a get together and help her find true love.”

Rich looked away from the computer. I looked down at him as I nervously bit my nails and wondered what he was thinking. The look on his face told me he thought I’d lost my damn mind.

“I can’t believe you actually listed your phone number. What were you thinking?”

My phone rang behind us and I picked it up to hit the button and send the call to voicemail. “Well, how else are they supposed to get in touch with me?”

“You could have listed an email address or… or something. But you’ve just given out your private information to the world.  Someone could track the number and figure out where you live. You listed that you’re looking for a kidnapper? Are you serious right now, Jane?”