Freed by Fire (4 page)

Maggie and I slept in my old bed, in my old bedroom. I woke up with her elbow digging right into my back.

“Yep, never drinking again…” I whined as I rubbed my forehead, trying to erase the pain that seared through like a slicing blade.

I tied my mom’s apron around my waist and cooked breakfast. There wasn’t much left in the fridge that hadn’t gone bad in a week, but there was an unopened carton of liquid egg whites, a frozen package of sausages and a box of pancake mix.

Maggie made coffee as I flipped the pancakes, and Lance wandered in wearing only boxers. Damn, that boy’s got quite the body. My mouth dropped open as my eyes traipsed farther down his chest, to his…lower half. Which, was up and ready to start the day.

Lance blushed. “Yeah, so…I forgot I was in a house with two girls. When you live alone you don’t have to worry about these types of things.”

Maggie shrugged. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing special.”

“Maggie!” I smacked her arm with the back of my hand playfully. “You’re so mean.” I took a sneaking peek at Lance before he sat down and got covered by the table top. From what I saw, he was very blessed in the…well, dick department, and since I’ve only ever seen or touched Matt’s I let myself linger on the idea of what Lance’s looked like.

I needed a life. Big time.

“So, what’s the plan today, girls?” Lance asked, stabbing a sausage with his fork.

I almost sputtered my coffee. “Well, Mr. Walters said he’ll help me with the house. Mom always said that she wanted me to sell it after she was gone. And now, after everything, I still don’t want to keep it. I don’t think I want to live in Belleville anymore.”

Maggie’s eyebrows rose. “So…that means…”

“That means, Miss O’Halloran, that I want you to tell me if you think Blue will make it to Chicago.”

“Don’t tease me, Em.”

“I’m not. I can’t stay here. Not now…there’s nothing left for me here.”

Lance spoke up while chewing a chunk of sausage. “Really, Em? What are you gonna do in Chicago?”

“I can write books anywhere, Lance.”

“True,” he said, biting off another piece of meat. “You know, I read that first book of yours.”

“You didn’t!” I blushed, covering my face.

“I did…I learned a thing or two, let me tell you. Where did you come up with that stuff, anyway?”

Between my rosy cheeks I curled my nose and smiled. “It just came to me. Now, shut up before I get any more embarrassed.”

Hello, my name is Emery Morgan, and I am a best-selling author. I write books.
Those
kind of books. You know, the ones that make you feel all tingly and naughty. Don’t ask me where the ideas come from, because I won’t be able to tell you. They just flowed from my fingers and ended up as a pile of letters on my screen. Someone reads them, makes them pretty, and then I hit the button that says “publish”.

Matt had never read any of them, and my mother couldn’t stop raving and bragging about them. Every single line I ever had written had been fictional. I didn’t really know what it felt like to feel how the women in my books did. Matt didn’t ever give me a mind-shattering, earth-crumbling, heart-stopping orgasm, and I sure as hell didn’t let him tie me up by my wrists to the ceiling and let him beat me with a paddle or riding crop.

But, I did write about things I fantasized about, but never had the guts to try. People liked them—no, they
loved
them, and I’ve made a good living by doing it.

Maggie was right when she said I could afford a new car, or two or three. But, I don’t want to live a big and flashy life. I just wanted what I had before I started to make a lot of money. A nice home, a car that ran (most days), and man who loved me.

Now, I still have the car. My future is nothing but possibilities. And it scares the living shit out of me. Chicago terrifies me. But, staying in Belleville, and occasionally running into Matt and Blondie with Baby Morgan frightens me even more.

“More coffee?” I asked, pouring myself some.

“No thanks, I gotta get going.” Lance stood, and of course, I looked to see if he was still at attention. He wasn’t. I smirked at Maggie who was grinning just as much as I was. “You need a ride back to the hotel, so I’ll meet you ladies outside.”

“Thanks, Lance.” Maggie leaned to watch him as he walked out of the room. “He’s still pretty hot, eh?”

“He was always hot, Mags.”

She sighed. “I’m going to miss Belleville.”

“I’m not.”

***

Tuesday, June 25
— 11:25 am

I walked into the bank, knowing I wasn’t going to be greeted by my mom. Walking by her office, the door was closed, and I just wanted to go in and spin on the chair. Maybe I would before I left.

Mr. Walters smiled when I walked into his office, he stood up from the desk and walked around it to hug me. “Glad to see you, Emery. How are you feeling this morning?”

“Okay, actually…thanks. I’m here to take you up on your offer about the house. When can we list it, and how long does a divorce take?”

Mr. Walters blinked a few times. “D—divorce? Emery, please sit.”

“Yes, a divorce. You’ve had two. Tell me, please. I need to know how long this is going to take.”

He looked around his office, like he was trying to rationalize what I had just said, or maybe he was going to quote one of the inspirational photos that were hanging all around the room. “I’m not going to ask anything personal…I just want to know if you’re okay. Your mother would want me to at least do that. I don’t know why you want a divorce,” he said, holding up his hand, “but, I do know you’re a bright young lady and you won’t let anything stand in your way. As for the house, your mom put together a file before she passed, with everything you’ll need. It’s been appraised, I’m sure you’ll get a surprise from the number, it’s very good, and she even had listed a few charities that you can donate her furniture to.”

I nodded and took the folder he handed me. “I remember her telling me about that. She said she didn’t want me to feel like I had to keep anything of hers, and that I would probably become a hoarder if I tried to fit it all in my own house.” I smiled. “Thanks for your help, Mr. Walters.”

“About the divorce,” he said, pulling out his phone. “This is the number of my own lawyer, he handles things quickly and discreetly.” Mr. Walters wrote the number on a piece of paper and slid it across the desk.

“I’d also like to remove myself from the joint bank account I share with Matt, and withdraw everything I’ve got in my business account.”

Chapter Four

Wednesday, July 3 — 6:44 am

The sun glimmered through the venetian blinds and I smiled as I opened my eyes. Chicago was bustling forty-six stories down, and I could smell fresh coffee percolating from the kitchen. Maggie’s voice travelled into the bedroom, and I could hear the faint beat of a Katy Perry song playing on the radio.

“Hope I didn’t wake you,” Maggie said, smiling and dancing around her tiny kitchen wearing only boy shorts and a tank-top. “I’m running a little late today.”

“You didn’t wake me. That did…it smells so good.”

“Here,” she said, passing me a mug of steaming black goodness. “I’m in meetings all day today, but I’ll be home by dinner, I promise.”

“Sounds good. What do you feel like? I could make something…or order take-out.”

Maggie shrugged, still dancing. “Doesn’t matter. We could go out, too. Tomorrow is a holiday, after all.”

I smiled and sipped my coffee. Yes, tomorrow was a holiday. The fourth of July. A day that my mom always had off, since it was a government holiday and we would drive to the lake and watch the fireworks while sitting and eating fried chicken and macaroni salad. Even after I grew up and got married, she would take me and Matt there to watch the display with her.

Maggie left for work just after seven, and I lazed around the apartment before getting dressed and heading out to take in some of the beautiful Lakeshore East scenery. I have been in Chicago for one week now, and I’ve yet to really sight-see. I drove Blue all the way here, without any issues, and with the help of Maggie’s directions. We arrived at night, and since then I hadn’t left the area.

Today was the day where all that changed. I was going to wander around, until my feet hurt, maybe get a little sunburned, get really wild…Yeah, who am I kidding. I’ll probably just end up by the Starbuck’s three blocks away.

I popped in my earbuds, turned on the music and walked out of the building. Finding myself on Michigan Avenue, I slid onto a bench and checked my email. The first one in my inbox was from my divorce lawyer, informing me that Matt had signed the papers and everything was finalized. He kept the house, and I kept all my book earnings. The lawyer had said I was entitled to half of everything, but at the end of the day, I just wanted to cut every tie and walk away. I didn’t want the house, half of his money, or anything. And he didn’t even put up a fight. He simply signed on the dotted line and…well, I don’t know what he did next. I didn’t care. Not anymore.

I threw my wedding rings away too. On the drive here, actually. Maggie was sleeping in the passenger seat beside me, it was late, and I had way too much coffee. With my window rolled down, I pulled the rings off, gave them one last look and tossed them right onto the freeway. I guess I could have left them, or sold them…but, I didn’t want any money for them, and it wouldn’t surprise me for a second if Matt would have merely recycled them and gave them to his new plaything. There was absolutely no coincidence that The Band Perry’s “Done” played on the radio as the white gold bands bounced under the tires of following cars.

None
.

I hadn’t checked my Facebook or Twitter feeds in over two weeks. I have tons of notifications that I could check. But, I don’t. I probably should even change my marital status, but I don’t think they offer Old Maid as an option. Checking my Facebook would mostly likely force me into seeing Matt’s profile picture. I wondered if he changed it. Maybe to one of him and her, maybe not. I doubt it’s still the one of us hugging in front of the gazebo in West Brook Park.

My curiosity got the best of me. I logged on, thumbing through the feed of condolences of people I knew, and who knew my mother. I clicked my own profile and pushed the camera to change my profile picture. Holding up my phone, I smiled and took a pathetic selfie. It would do. At least I
looked
happy in it. You can see the busy street in the background, the passing cars, the towering buildings and the people. A new city, a new picture. A new Emery.

Wandering around a little more, I drank my Starbuck’s and took a few more pictures with my phone of skyscrapers and other magnificent buildings that surrounded me. I was really in another world.

What are you up to?
Maggie’s text chimed in.

Me:
Oh, you know. Being a tourist.

Maggie:
Sounds like fun. Watch out for crazies.

Me:
LOL I am. How’s work?

Maggie:
Boring. I would jump out the window,

but you would miss me.

Me:
I would. And I’d be alone at dinner tonight.

Maggie:
Ha ha…well, have fun sight-seeing.

Don’t get gang-banged.

Me:
I’ll try not to. But I can’t promise you anything.

Maggie:
LOL!

Somehow I’ve wound up by a fire house. Big, red and black, freshly-washed fire trucks were backed into bays, and several people were walking around in matching dark blue t-shirts with CFD written in white on the back. Some others were wearing button-up shirts with patches on the sleeves.

I watched from the other side of the street as a line of children walked up to the building, being led by some adults. Must be a daycare group. The firefighters brought out small red plastic hats and handed them out to the kids. My eyes darted to one of the trucks.

Leaning against one of them with his arms folded on his chest, was a man. Yes, a man. The epitome of the word, if I’m correct. He was one of the ones wearing a t-shirt, and good heavens, if it wasn’t straining around his arms and chest. Didn’t his mother teach him to wear clothing more his size? I needed to find that woman to thank her for disregarding that little gem. He’s just…man. Yes, a man. I think I mentioned that already.

His dark hair blew in the breeze, and he was wearing sunglasses so I couldn’t really see much of his face. Not that I needed to. His body was screaming “Hey! I’m gorgeous, look at me!” anyway. A little boy in a red plastic hat walked up to him and he knelt down to slap palms with the child. That was so cute. He likes kids. My heart fluttered a little. A feeling that hadn’t happened in a while.

One of the leaders of the group of kids placed her hands around her mouth and loudly instructed them to do something. The kids started laughing and jumping around while following all the woman and the firefighters into the house, out of sight.

Mr. Too-Tight T-shirt was the last in the line. I realized I had been standing here for far too long, gawking, but I didn’t care. One last look at that gorgeous man before he was out of sight.

Was it completely awful that I was actually considering lighting a trashcan on fire so he would come and pull out his hose—
oh, get your mind out of the gutter
—and put the fire out?

I kid. I’m in the gutter too. I write smut, remember? It’s quite comfy in here. A little dirty, but I won’t tell anyone you’re here.

Sighing I finished my coffee, which was now cold, and tossed it into a nearby can. Not lighting it on fire, I swear. I found my way back to Maggie’s apartment and fell onto her small sofa, my feet tired from the walking and my mind racing of visions of that man.

***

Wednesday, July 3
— 7:48 pm

“So Ben was like, “Yeah well the only person who would be able to pull off that account is currently nodding off, so I think you should just give it to me, Mr. Winston.” And then, I nearly died, I was so embarrassed I tell you, Em…”

I looked up, feeling like a shit for not paying attention. “Sorry, Mags.”

“Normally I’d tell you that you suck for ignoring me…but, something’s up. What is it?” She asked, cutting her steak and slathering horseradish all over it.

“Nothing, I don’t know…I’m just a little tired I guess.” I didn’t want to tell her that the sight of steak and smell of horseradish reminded me of Matt and it made me sick. “Tell me the story again.”

“Naw, it’s okay. It sucked anyway, I don’t blame you for ignoring me.” Maggie laughed. “Are you really tired? I was hoping you would be up to maybe a little dancing tonight. A bunch of people from work are going to a pub downtown.”

Since I felt crappy for sucking as a dinner companion, best friend, and listener, I agreed. “Only if we can go home and change. I’m not exactly going to wear a dress to a pub.”

“Good! I’m going to text Ellie and tell her you’re coming. She’s been dying to meet you.”

Ellie was Maggie’s secretary, I’ve heard all about her. She sounded nice, and maybe it would do me some good to make another friend.

I wolfed down my entire bowl of cacciatore, almost to the point of bursting, and languidly sipped my wine while waiting for Maggie to finish her plate of beef and asparagus. She ate small, precisely cut sections, chewing each piece with her eyes closed, as if she was concentrating on the taste of each bite. I smiled looking at her. I loved that girl.

***

Wednesday, July 3
— 10:10 pm

“Can’t I just wear yoga pants and a hoodie?”

“No.”

“You’re mean.”

“The meanest,” Maggie teased. “Besides, no one wears hoodies in July except bank robbers and other precarious individuals. You, my dear, are neither a robber or precarious. You’re young, hot…and newly single. Show those legs, let those boobs spill out…Act your age.”

“I’ll have to borrow something of yours then, because I don’t have any boob-spilling tops.”

Maggie laughed and opened her closet. “What’s mine is yours, Em.”

I chose a pair of my own cut-off jean shorts, frayed and ripped at the pockets. Something I had bought on a whim and thought Matt would like—he didn’t. “
You’re showing too much thigh, Em,
” he had said, and I changed out of them that day.

I could spend an entire weekend trying on all of Maggie’s clothes. I settled on an emerald green sleeveless blouse with a low neckline.

“How’s this?” I asked, twirling around in my bare feet.

“Possibly making me consider switching teams.”

“Maggie!” I laughed.

“In all honesty, you’re beautiful. I can’t believe you don’t see it. Ellie and I are going to have to keep a close eye on you. All these Chicagoans will smell the fresh meat.”

I slid on a pair of flats and sat on the bed waiting for Maggie to decide on whether she was going to wear a skirt or a pair of shorts too. She ended up choosing the skirt. A black wrap of fabric around her curvy hips paired with a light gray lacy camisole. She looked more beautiful than I would on any day of the week.

The bouncing blonde by the entrance of the pub waving and shouting must be Ellie. She was standing with a few other people our age, and they all smiled as we moved toward them.

“This is her, my people! My Em…Em, these are my fellow prisoners at Winston Walker and Waverly.” Maggie hugged Ellie who squealed and all but tackled me after I extended my hand to her.

“I’m so happy to finally meet you, Emery! Maggie never shuts up about you…And,” Ellie glanced around, lowering her voice. “I’m a huge fan of Toby.” Her wink made me blush.

Toby was the male lead in my first real novel. He might as well have been the man in the suit from Brew’s. Toby was my claim to “fame”, my success. He was every woman’s hot and wet fantasy. Smiling, I thanked Ellie and told her I would absolutely sign her paperback copy of my book.

I could smell the beer before my feet passed the threshold of the pub. The homey musk of wood and brass. Something was comforting about the place. Maybe because it was down-to-earth, compared to a club lit with strobe lights, smoke machines and a DJ. This little hole in the wall was somewhere I wouldn’t mind spending an evening.

There was no line at the bar, no need to push and shove people out of the way in order to find the bathroom or attempt a game of pool. When the WW&W group bee-lined for a large table near the bar, I knew Maggie had definitely been here before, and was probably close to becoming a permanent fixture.

“Leland! Three pitchers of your finest!” Maggie shouted out to the bulky copper-haired man behind the bar.

“Good to see ya again, Mags,” Leland rumbled, his deep accent spiking a smile in the corner of my mouth. “Jaysus, this one’s new. Who are ya, lovely lady?”

I blushed. Not peach, not even pink. I blushed pure crimson. I don’t know what it was, but something about his stature,
that accent
, and the fact that his eyes were almost so startling green, they were almost aqua, I melted a little. “I’m Em—Emery,” I stammered.

“Aww, shite, Em…don’t ya go scarlet on me now.” Leland placed the pitchers down and smirked.

“Leland, be nice. She’s new to the city,” Maggie said melodically while pouring beer into her glass.

“I’m a good fella.”

“You are.” Maggie smiled.

Just as if someone had flipped the switch on the music,
Talking Heads'
“Burning Down the House” began to play, and a huge group off in the corner near the pool tables began shouting and singing loudly to the music. I hadn’t even noticed there was a small stage until seven or eight of them climbed up on it and started swaying, drunk, still shouting the lyrics.