Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
T he food court around the Orange Julius at the Waterbury Mall was packed. That wasn’t a surprise, considering it was after school on a weekday. The mall was the hang out spot for anyone under eighteen. Yes, the over sixty-five crowd spent the afternoons power walking laps around the lower level. The food court, however, was the teenagers’ domain. With their hair held skyward by the power of AquaNet, they sat at the tables surrounded by Auntie Anne’s, Hot Dog on a Stick, and yes Orange Julius. From the Tower Records at one end of the food court to the arcade on the other, it was nothing but teens in parachute pants and neon bangles.
Well, except for her and Frank.
They were in a pastel pink, yellow and blue booth on opposite sides of the table, facing each other down over the location of Fitz’s retirement party.
“We cannot have it at Marinos,” Katie said, shaking her head the ridiculousness of honoring a man’s service to the community by having his party at a place decorated with neon beer signs and electric dart boards.
Frank sighed and sat back against the vinyl seat. “Why not?”
“It’s a bar.” The one that she hung out at when she went out to grab a beer, but it wasn’t like there was much choice in Waterbury. It wasn’t like she lived in Paris or Rome or even Harbor City.
Frank picked up his Orange Julius and sucked up a mouthful of the frozen orange, milk, sugar and vanilla concoction that shouldn’t be delicious but absolutely was before responding with, “Everyone’s going to be drinking anyway.”
That was true. It was going to be bottles of Bud, rum and Cokes, and Long Island iced teas all night long but still this was an event not a backyard BBQ.
“It’s a retirement party,” she shot back.
“For a guy who has been with the fire department for thirty years,” Frank said. “The man knows what firefighters are like.”
“Don’t you think it should be somewhere a little classier than a bar?” she asked, tapping her pen on her spiral notebook since she’d already circled the word “where” about fifty million times.
“We’re firemen,” he said with a laugh. “We’re not exactly the classy type.”
Yeah. If a person was into nice suits and fancy things, the fire department wasn’t usually the job they applied to. Even if they were into those things, it wasn’t like they could afford them on a firefighter’s salary, anyway.
Desperate for somewhere—anywhere—that was better than Marinos and still in their budget, she asked, “What about the Firemen’s Association Hall?”
“Kitchen fire last week,” Frank said after finishing off the last of his Orange Julius. “The whole place smells like charred chili beans and singed farts.”
That was more description than she needed. “Gag me.”
“Pretty much,” he said with a shrug.
Not wanting to give in, but unable to shake off the mental scent of burned chili and farts, she tried to come up with any other possibility. St. Bernadette’s wouldn’t allow alcohol. The park service had banned firefighter events after the last retirement party involved a bonfire that had gotten out of hand. And the skate rink? A round of shoot-the-duck had resulted in a ten firefighter pile up that had left four stations shorthanded for a week.
There were no other options.
This was why she’d wanted to get out of Waterbury as soon as she’d graduated high school. It was always like this. Then you added in the fact that every one of her twelve brothers and sisters were still here, her parents, the vast majority of aunts and uncles and grandparents on both sides and it was somehow overwhelming and boring at the same time. She was trapped. Yes, she’d accepted her fate, but sometimes she still wished she could get out of Waterbury and actually have adventures.
But this was what she had. The same old options. No excitement. No something new. She had Marinos. All she could do was make the best of it. Just like she’d had to when she’d given up on being someone new in the big city, transferred colleges, and come home.
Hello my-so-called rad life? You forgot me.
“So,” she said with a sigh, “if we have it at Marinos, we can bring in a podium and set it up on the stage.” She started writing a to-do list in her notebook. “We can curtain off the dart boards. Maybe put some table tops over the pool table for the buffet?”
Frank’s mouth curled up into the grin as he leaned forward with his arms on the table. “You’re a natural born problem solver.”
“Stop flirting.” She kept her gaze firmly on her list and not on Frank’s muscular forearms. She wasn’t interested. Didn’t care. Was unenthralled. “I’m immune.”
“It’s not flirting if it’s the truth,” he said, all cocky confidence, “and we both know you’re not immune to me.”
Yeah, Frank had the reputation of being an airhead, but all a person had to do was spend some time with him to know that wasn’t the case. He might not be book smart, but that wasn’t the only kind of smart that mattered in the world. Still, he couldn’t be more off base with this. She might think about him when she got off—fine she did think of him when she got off—but that didn’t mean she was taken in by him.
“What makes you think that—” she asked, adding quickly, “because it’s wrong.”
The grin didn’t falter, but it changed. If anyone asked her to describe the difference, she wasn’t sure if she could, but it made her mouth go dry and her heart speed up. Everything inside her that had been settled and sure got all loosey-goosey. It was like being on a rollercoaster when it stops at the top of the first big loop-de-loop and you know what’s coming but you don’t at the same time.
“Well first,” he said, his voice low and smooth, “there’s the way your cheeks get all flushed, which means your pulse kicked up.”
“My pulse is perfectly normal right now.” As long as it was normal to have a rocket-fuel-juiced heart rhythm.
He lifted a brow. “Really?”
In too far to give in now, she lifted her chin a few degrees and looked him dead in the eyes. “Really.”
He made an uh-huh sound under his breath as he reached for her, wrapping his fingers around her wrist before she could react. Resting his fingertips on her pulse point, he watched her, daring her to move. As if she could—not when every nerve in her body was suddenly on high alert, waiting, wanting, needing something more than this barely there touch.
“I’m a trained EMT you know,” he said, his voice more strained than it had been before, “and I can tell your heart rate is elevated.”
Fighting to keep her shit together, she managed to get out, “I had a Tab in the teacher’s lounge before driving over.”
It was true—but not the whole truth.
He shook his head, released her wrist, and tried to take a drink from the Orange Julius he’d finished minutes ago. “I’d have to gather my courage before riding in that death trap of yours too.”
“It’s not that bad,” she said, offended on her car’s behalf.
“Your tires are almost as bald as my Uncle Pete.”
“I’ll change them out before it starts snowing.” Or when her paychecks magically got bigger. “I’m just saving up. But my tires aren’t what we’re discussing.”
“Right.” He nodded, the grin reappearing. “We’re talking about how much you like me, despite not wanting to.”
“We are talking about Fitz’s retirement party,” she said, using the tone that always worked with her third graders. “I’m putting you in charge of getting the tops to cover the pool tables and something to put in front of the dart boards. I’ll book the bar for a private party and take care of the decorations.”
“What about food?” he asked, not pressing his advantage because there was no way he didn’t realize she was changing the subject.
She tapped her pen on her chin. “Marino’s All Night Diner?”
Yes, the owners of Marinos and Marino’s were locked in an eternal battle to the metaphorical death, but they also both cared about their businesses’ bottom lines. This wouldn’t be the first time Marino’s had catered an event at Marinos.
“Can’t go wrong with it,” Frank said. “Make sure to get extra cannoli.”
She started a menu column in her notebook. “Plain or chocolate chip?”
“Why not both?”
“We do have a budget to stick to.” Which would cover the bare minimum. But if there was anything she’d learned as a public school teacher, it was to make magic with the bare minimum.
“I’ll take up a collection at the fire house,” Frank said. “The guys will cover it.”
Katie shut her notebook and capped her ballpoint pen. “Well, that takes care of that.” She started scooting across the booth seat to the aisle. “We’ll touch base in a week.”
“You haven’t finished your Orange Julius,” he said. “Your dad said they’re your favorite.”
She stopped with one butt cheek hanging in the air. “They are.”
“So stay and finish.” He nudged the cup closer to her side of the table. “I won’t flirt.”
“Is that even possible for you?” she asked as she moved so her whole ass was on the booth’s seat, even though she knew she should be getting the hell out of there. Her business here was completed. And yet, she continued, “You flirt with everyone. It’s like breathing for you.”
“Maybe I’m just a nice guy who likes making people smile.” He shrugged his broad shoulders and started to fold his straw wrapper into teeny-tiny triangles, his gaze never leaving her. “So, your dad said you like the movies.”
Alarm bells and sirens went off in her head. Nothing about her dad and Frank Hartigan talking about her boded well—not when her dad was on a mission to become a grandpa.
“Why are you two having little chats about me?” she asked, not sure she wanted to hear the answer.
“We aren’t,” Frank said. “He just mentions things here and there.”
“And you remember them?” she scoffed.
He nodded and flicked his straw-wrapper triangle into the unused plastic ashtray built into the end of the table. “I do. I know your favorite color is blue because you wear it all the time, you’re so smart you got a killer scholarship to some fancy college, you’ve got a great sense of humor, you’re not the best at car maintenance, you’re a good sister, you’re not nearly as scary as you want everyone to think you are, and that you go to the movies every week.”
Heat beat against her cheeks. She felt naked for a whole other reason besides being turned on beyond belief and her better judgement. So she clung to the last thing he’d said like it was a life preserver and she was drowning in the harbor.
“No movies for me this week.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Why not?”
“No one will go see Halloween II with me and I’m too scared to go by myself.”
She’d made that mistake with the first Halloween, and had ended up sleeping with her bedroom light on for two weeks.
“I’ll go with you.” He picked up the laminated card, listing movie times, tucked between the ketchup and mustard bottles on the table. “The next showing is in twenty minutes.”
She gulped past the excitement lodged in her throat like an anticipation balloon. “I’m not going on a date with you.”
“I know that.” He flattened the grin into something more neutral. “I’ll just be there for moral support. I’ll even sit in a different row if you want.”
Despite the danger bells ringing in her ears, she laughed. “That would defeat the whole ‘having someone go with me so I’m not scared at the gory parts’ thing.”
“So I’ll sit next to you, but it won’t be a date.” He moved over to the edge of the booth and stood up. “I won’t even share my popcorn mixed with M&Ms with you.”
“That’s my favorite way to eat them too.” It was buttery, salty, chocolatey heaven.
“Then you’ll have to get your own bucket.”
Heart hammering in her chest, she looked up at him. The non-stop chatter from the teenagers at the other tables faded away, and it was just them. “Because it’s not a date.”
“Exactly.” He held out his hand to help her up.
She didn’t hesitate, even for a second. Instead, while Katie’s brain told her to run away, she listened to her heart—and yes, her days-of-the-week panties—and took Frank’s hand.