Hot Mess (6 page)

Why did she need to be on friendly terms with him? If she wanted to ogle him, she could do it every day, right here. She didn't need to be making overtures. Jeez, what had gotten into her? She waved back, forcing a smile on her face and turned to study her steering wheel.

As firefighters approach a structure that is going to be searched, they should consider the time of day and familiarize themselves with the type of building construction, anticipated occupancy (residential or commercial), and locations of windows and doors that may be useful as emergency exits should a problem develop during the building search. --From
Firefighter's Handbook, Essentials of Firefighting and Emergency Response

Sam should have seen it coming. After the first week on the job, he'd had his shampoo replaced with barbecue sauce, his face dusted with flour while he slept, had firecrackers thrown under the bathroom stall while he was taking a shit, and been covered with glitter when he turned on the a/c vents in the truck on the one warm day they'd had. He took it all with a grain of salt, knowing he wasn't the only one. Juan's birthday was yesterday, and the guys had all gone out on a "call" and managed to duct tape Juan to a tree as a prank. Still, the powdered kool-aid in his sleeping bag had been sort of funny, and he wondered how long his feet would be blue.

So when the call came in, and the guys recognized the address as a Mrs. Brigsby, and they sent Sam and Cade, he should have thought something was up. Except, everybody else had said she was a "regular" and he thought he knew what that meant. Every fire department had them. A senior, who got trigger happy when they discovered that help would come at the touch of a button. Usually a little old widow who needed a big strong man to help her with something. That's what Sam thought, anyway…Of course, that's what he got for thinking in the first place.

The calls up until this one had been relatively routine, and Sam was thankful for that. Minor car accidents, a man trapped in his tractor tire, numerous false alarms, it wasn't anything he hadn't dealt with before.

When they arrived at the address, Cade said, "She probably needs a light bulb replaced. Sweet old lady, but I'm just not in the mood today. Do you mind going in by yourself? Just radio if it's something serious." Sam nodded and got out of the truck, wondering what the sweet lady wanted.

He entered her house and was rendered speechless when he found Mrs. Brigsby in her bedroom, laid out on the bed, obviously expecting him.

She had to be in her eighties, with blued hair, neatly coifed. What got to Sam though, and made him realize that he'd been pranked, yet again, was the fact that she was wearing a leather bustier, black lace panties, and fishnet stockings. And she was handcuffed to her bed.

"Oh there you are! I was wondering when one of you boys would show up. I seem to have gotten myself into a bit of a pickle." Squinting her eyes at Sam, she asked, "You new? I don't think we've met."

Sam bit his tongue. "How did you manage to get yourself handcuffed, Mrs. Brigsby?"

"Oh, I didn't do it myself, Rodney was here. But he got mad and left in a huff."

"How did you call us, if you were handcuffed?"

She pointed to a button on her bed post. "Rodney thought it would be funny for me to have to call y'all. He left my life-alert button where I could reach it. Little does he know, I'm on a first-name basis with most of the Serendipity Fire Department. You are?"

"Sam," he grumbled. Retrieving a handcuff key from his pack, Sam said, "Well, I can get you out, ma'am." He had added handcuff keys to his pack a couple of years ago, after he'd had to cut a little boy out of a pair of cuffs he'd found. The keys were relatively universal, only a few keys unlocked the cuffs. His policeman buddy had told him where to get them.

She looked him squarely in the eyes. "You know, you don't necessarily have to get me out." Mrs. Brigsby winked at him, making Sam blush.

"Um…I think it's best if I do." He walked over to one of her hands and unlocked the cuff before leaning over and unlocking the other side. She sat up in the bed, completely unashamed of her appearance in front of a stranger.

"Are you sure? I may look old, but I assure you, what I lack in looks, I make up for in experience."

"Yes ma'am. I'm sure. Thank you for the offer, though. I'm uh…flattered." Sam could feel heat rising on his cheeks.

Mrs. Brigsby pouted, "Well, okay then."

"I've got to get back to the station, Mrs. Brigsby. Don't make Rodney mad anymore, okay?"

"Don't count on it." The little old lady fluttered her eyelashes and made a pouty face at Sam. "He's just jealous."

"I'm sure he is." Unable to think of anything to say, Sam turned and left the room, thankful to leave.

Back at the truck, Cade was grinning from ear to ear. Sam opened the truck, threw himself inside, and slammed the door shut.

"Let's get the hell out of here," he growled.

"What was it this time? Was something stuck inside her again?"

Sam raised his eyebrows at Cade's laughter, "Ew…No. She was handcuffed to her bed."

"Rodney gets mad at her a lot. I think it's some weird sex game they play. I just hope when I'm that old, I can still get it up enough to play games like that with my wife."

"So we get regular calls on their kinky sex games gone wrong? Shit…"

The radio sputtered to life, announcing a call on a house fire. Cade and Sam raced back to the station to get suited up.

The neighbor watching the blaze said she didn't think the house was occupied. The flames were licking at an upstairs window, and the house seemed to be only about thirty percent aflame.

Chief Bennet assessed the situation and began barking orders, "Owens, Suarez, make sure the house is unoccupied. Smith, Kowalsky hose one, Beattie, Simmons, hose two. Move it!" Everybody jumped into action.

Juan and Sam pulled their masks over their faces and went in, being careful to keep the wall to their left as they moved around the inside of the house.

The downstairs of the house was relatively unscathed. They did a quick room search, verifying that no one was inside. Upstairs, the smoke was denser, and Sam could feel the heat. Making a sweep of the upstairs, Juan and Sam passed a doorway, and Juan halted Sam.

"You hear that, man?"

Sam stood still, listening. Underneath the sound of licking flames, he heard a vague whimpering from behind a door nearest him. Entering the room, they found a small Pekingese dog locked in a crate in the corner. Unlatching the crate, Sam tried to coax the animal out, but to no avail. The dog was clearly terrified, but they had to check for human survivors before the firefighters could rescue the animal. Turning his back on the creature, Sam motioned for Juan to follow him down the hall to the rest of the rooms.

Sam and Juan worked well together, using standard operating procedure they were both familiar with to quickly search the house. Finding no other occupants, they returned to the room, finding the dog huddled exactly where they'd left it. Scooping it into his arms, Sam followed Juan down the stairs and out the front door.

As he pulled off his mask, a photographer's flash went off, momentarily blinding Sam, before he was clapped on his back. Chagrined, he walked through a crowd of bystanders to the truck before wrapping the dog in a blanket and letting it breathe from his oxygen tank. It was stupid, he knew, but animals got scared during a fire, and he'd seen enough dogs burn alive trying to rescue their masters that he felt a strong desire to do what he could for this one, who'd been locked up and defenseless.

"Good job, man." Juan walked up behind him. "Not bad for our first rodeo together, huh?"

"Yeah, not a bad fire either. I wish they were all like this one." They watched in silence as the rest of the crew pointed hoses at the dwindling flames.

"Well, they won't be. It was probably a good warm up for what's to come for you though."

"Yeah." Sam was pensive. He'd been a firefighter for eleven years and had seen some bad ones. As far as fires went, this one was a breeze. But he and Juan had worked well together, and that was a good thing. They were able to put aside any hard feelings about the pranks, and work together as a team. Sam was glad about that. He felt lonely here in this new town and was glad that he had a guy that he might actually call a friend.

From Remainingrachel.com

Dear Rachel,

Yesterday, I found out I am HIV positive. What do I do now? I'm freaking out, and don't know what to do first.

Helpless in Detroit

Dear Helpless,

First thing's first. Breathe. Next thing, you need a support group. I'm not talking about an HIV support group, although those can be helpful. I'm talking about a personal support group, namely friends and family. Before you go telling everybody you know, ask yourself two questions: 1. What do you hope to gain from this person knowing you are HIV positive? If it is something that will help you adjust, then tell them. If it won't help you, then don't tell them, yet. 2. How will this person knowing about your condition affect you? If the answer is positively, then tell them. If they would react negatively, don't tell them yet, unless it's a sexual partner. If it's a sexual partner, these questions are null and void. You have to tell a sexual partner if you are diagnosed with HIV. Period.

The next thing to do, is find a medical professional, preferably an HIV specialist to test your levels of virus and discuss your treatment options. You may be able to take a member of your new support group with you for, well, support.

Those are the first things to do, Helpless. Continue to educate yourself and find an outlet for emotions that will arise. Be forewarned, though. Not everybody you tell will react the way you think they should. Some people will stop talking to you, and I'm sorry about that. People can be ignorant, sometimes. Just chalk it up to lessons learned.

Wishing you well,

Rachel

Rachel was at her laptop when her brother called, mad as hell.

"Why haven't you called? Mom's been worried about you." His voice reminded Rachel of her father's voice just before a mammoth lecture. Of course, she hadn't actually heard either of her parents' voices in so long that she couldn’t be sure.

"Does she realize that phones work both ways?"

"Don't be a jerk. She thought you'd died."

Of course she had, Rachel thought. Her mother probably couldn't wait for the day to come, so she could stop pretending to care about Rachel's well-being. She had a hard time hiding the sarcasm from her voice. "Here I am, miraculously alive and well."

"Look, I'm just checking on you. Don't be so prickly." Rachel's brother, Brandon, was her surrogate father, since her parents had practically disowned her after her diagnosis.

"I'm not trying to be, but jeez, can't she ever call?"

"You know how uncomfortable she gets, Rach." Brandon's voice softened considerably.

"No, not really. She doesn't ever tell me. She never calls me."

"I'm sorry, she just has a hard time with all of it."

"I hate to break it to everybody, but I am the same person I was when I was born. I'm still Rachel Fairchild. I have had a disease for eleven years. The disease doesn't define me. I'm not Rachel Fairchild, HIV positive woman. Most of the people in Serendipity don't even know."

"But that's all she sees when she's with you. Her baby is dying."

She couldn't hide her frustration. "I'm not dying. I'm living with every ounce of will possible. That's what I don't understand. Why doesn't she care to try to see that? She has a granddaughter, you know."

"Rach. Don't be ridiculous. Of course we know."

"Why doesn't she try to see Sophie?"

"I don't know. Painful reminders?"

"Whatever. If I'm so painful, why are you calling?"

"Mom read something in Prevention magazine about boosting your immune system. Do you take zinc?"

"Yes. Is that all? She's hoping to cure me with vitamins?"

"She just wants what's best for you, Rachel."

"I need my family, Brandon. I need support. I need people to stand by me and not to tell me I'm an abnormal freak. That's what most people's families do." Her voice was rising in anger. "If you can't do it, then stop calling me to offer advice and then get all worried about the freak in the family when I tell you that I've tried it, and yes I am still HIV positive. Just call to see how I'm doing, not my disease. Call to see how my day was. Call to check on Sophie. Call to see how my car is running. Don't make every conversation about how close to death you think I am." She hung up on her brother feeling unbelievably frustrated and unable to unwind.