The Fire Went Wild (Home is a Fire Book 2) Read online

  “Just the same,” I said, “I’m sure we can do without that certain trip down memory lane. My early dress up days were not my finest work.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly, honey,” Mom said. “You were so cute in that old fake fur I had.”

  “Mom! Seriously?! I’m getting Luke out of here before you bring out old VCR tapes of school plays.” I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and gave Luke the please can we go now face.

  “Fine, fine, I’ll let you go this time. But Luke, you’re welcome back anytime you want. You boys have fun, now.” She reached over and gave him a big hug, then sent an air kiss in my direction. “See you Monday?”

  “Yep, Monday after school,” I said. “Oh, and I almost forgot. Someone called, but they hung up without leaving a message.”

  “Probably just a salesman,” she said, nonplussed. “Did ya scare ‘em away?”

  “I did my best!”

  “Good work!” She clapped her hands together once and we were off.

  We swung by Luke’s house first to drop off my bag and have dinner together. I was getting far more comfortable at his place, making myself at home. I had my space in his closet, my own drawers, my shelf in the medicine cabinet. Well, shelves, to be more precise. Luke’s portion of the cabinet was basically toothpaste, deodorant and razor blades, while my side looked like the sample counter at a fancy skincare clinic. I hadn’t crossed the line to Botox yet, but I was taking every precaution against the worst that gravity and aging had to offer.

  Luke made his amazing chicken enchiladas. His housemaid/nanny Rosa cooked them for him and his sister Lana when he was a kid, and they did not disappoint. We ate our fill, took a quick shower and walked out to his car.

  Luke held the passenger side door open for me. “After you, Mr. Walter.”

  “Why, thank you, Mr. Walcott.”

  I sometimes wondered if Mr. Darcy, or any of the other romantic heroes of Jane Austen’s novels, would approve? Then again, at this moment I didn’t really care.

  We entered our favorite dive bar to the strains of The Smiths coming from the best jukebox on the planet. They used to have the old kind that played 45s, but the digital age wiped that away. First they switched to CDs, but now the songs were plucked from the ether, delivered by high speed Internet. Thanks, Al Gore! Regardless, they managed to keep the same musical vibe, without allowing the “wrong kind of music” to invade this secular space. Country and rock hits from the 1950s to the 70s mixed seamlessly with alternative music from the 80s and 90s. Only the occasional current hit was allowed into this exclusive, magical playlist.

  Our favorite circular booth in the corner was reaching maximum capacity. Kit and Shawn, Tommy and Meredith had pitchers full of beer in front of them, and they all stood up to welcome Luke and me. We like to hug in the South. A lot.

  “Bammy and Michael are still at dinner, but she sent me a text to say we should start without them,” I said to the group. “They’ll be along later.”

  “Good to know,” said Tommy, his arm around Meredith, “because this is our second round of pitchers, already.” Tommy looked like he belonged in that booth. He was a relaxed, jeans and a t-shirt kind of guy, but I could see his girlfriend’s influence creeping in. He looked good in a button down! Meredith, meanwhile, was always well put together. She preferred to treat every day like a dress up day, with flowery skirts and fancy shoes.

  Luke poured us two beers from the communal fount. “Here’s to friends, new and old,” he said, and we all clinked pint glasses.

  “So what’s up, y’all?” I asked. Kit was looking mighty fidgety. “I can tell when Kit is up to something. There’s a magic sparkle in your eyes tonight.”

  “Well, it just so happens you are right, mister.” Kit looked sideways at Shawn, then over to Tommy and Meredith and gave a little smile. “I’ve been thinking a lot about my choices, lately, and seeing all of you so happy has made me put some things into perspective. I was an art history major in college, but I never did anything with it. Being a full time office temp pays well, but it isn’t my dream. I’m. Over. It. And I know my boyfriend is a bit tired of hearing me moan about the endless parade of crazy bosses.” She bumped shoulders with her beau and he gave her a supportive smile. “So, Shawn and I had lunch on New Year’s Day with these two over at Saul’s, and Meredith was talking about her gallery, and, well, I just got real caught up in ideas of how I could help, and…”

  “We’re going into business together!” Meredith burst out, as if she couldn’t contain herself anymore. “Kit is going to be my new partner at the gallery!”

  “That’s awesome!” I said, reaching over to hug Kit. “Congratulations! So, what does this mean?”

  “Well,” Kit started, “I’ve been saving my money, and Meredith needed some help, and I feel like I haven’t been able to do anything creative for so long. Too. Long. So, I’m investing in her, in us! And it’s gonna rock!”

  “I’m focusing on the business aspects,” said Meredith, jumping in. “The books, the finances, the contracts. Kit will work with the gallery space, selling and coordinating the installations. Together we’ll find new artists and book shows so that we have the best dang art gallery in Parkville.”

  “That sounds great, y’all,” said Luke. “We’re so happy for you both!”

  My little Scooby Gang was really taking off. Coming home to the South hadn’t been an easy transition, but so far, so good. Luke went to the bar to get us two new pitchers, and we sort of broke off into smaller conversations. Kit and Meredith were moving full steam ahead on ideas for the gallery, brainstorming creative ways to use the space and attract more clients and artists. Shawn was telling Tommy about his last gig at the Bongo Room. Some music scouts from Atlanta had been in the audience, and they asked him for a demo. Tommy had his plate full with some new private clients for his carpentry business. Luke was holding my hand under the table, playfully twisting our fingers and thumbs together, jumping into conversations when it felt right, but mostly he was just smiling contentedly. When Bammy and Michael walked in, they squeezed in next to Tommy and Meredith and joined the conversation, filling everyone in with their tales of work and local gossip. I could sense that there was something a little off with Bammy, but it didn’t feel right to bring it up in front of everyone. She caught my eye and I thought I saw a fleeting moment when her permanent grin froze, but she caught herself before anyone else could notice. Always playing for her audience, that Bammy.

  The sound of pool cues hitting their marks in the backroom cracked the air as Patsy Cline’s “Walking After Midnight” came on the jukebox, so I made my move.

  “May I have this dance, Miss Talbot?” I reached for Bammy’s hand across the table, and she nodded graciously. Luke stood up to let me out, and she and I walked towards the jukebox, near the bathrooms. Romantic, right?

  “Hey there,” I said, pulling her in, “wanna tell me what’s up?”

  I held her in my arms, spinning softly to the beat of the music. Her head was on my shoulder and her hand was gripping mine tightly.

  “Not really,” she said into my chest. “It’s no big deal. It wasn’t a fight. Just an… impasse. I don’t know. I guess I went too far.”

  “Well, fill me in. What’d you do?” I asked.

  “Why do you think it was my fault?” She stopped dancing, lifting her head and momentarily looking me in the eyes. I raised one eyebrow and she just smirked. “Oh, shut that eyebrow down, Derek. Mr. Know-It-All.”

  “Ha!” I pulled her in again, leading her into a quick pirouette, her full skirt dancing about as we swayed to the music.

  “I got nosy,” she confessed, quietly. “I can’t help myself! He’s been so sweet, and I just want to know more about him. He’s told me so much about the Taylors, his foster parents, I feel I already know them. But, then…”

  “Yes?” We continued to move gently to the song.

  “I asked about his birth mother.” She looked up at me again, her brow creasing with regre
t. “I didn’t think. I guess, I don’t know. I didn’t think about whether that would make him sad or anxious or upset or whatever. If it were me, I’d want to know. Wouldn’t you? When you turn 18 you can request your birth records from the state. He said it was never important to him, and now, years later, here I am asking all these questions about these people who deserted him. I opened a can of worms, and now he’s suddenly struggling with these feelings that he successfully avoided for years. I should have minded my own business. Frickin’ Nancy Drew.”

  “Oh, Bammy,” I assured her, “you didn’t mean any harm. I’m sure he knows that. Everyone deals with personal things differently. You couldn’t know how he would react. Trust me. I can tell he likes you. We can all see that. You two will get through this. It’s just a bump.”

  “I know, I know.” She lifted her head to look at me again, still worried. “But now I’m obsessed. I can’t stop, Derek. My mind is just spinning. Think about it. His mother could have just been passing through town, but honestly, who the heck passes through Parkville and has a baby and then leaves? So, it must be someone we know, right? I mean, this town isn’t that big. The odds are, we know Michael’s birth mother. How can he not be curious?”

  The jukebox switched over to a new song. We stopped dancing as I gave her a hug and looked over her shoulder at our table of friends. Damn it, Bammy. What sort of Pandora’s box have you opened?

  4

  CAUGHT OUT THERE

  Luke wanted to sleep in Saturday morning, but I woke up restless. Sometimes my brain doesn’t shut off, and I was thinking too much about the night before and Bammy’s revelation that we could know Michael’s birth parents. I crawled out of bed, brushed my teeth and retrieved the local newspaper from the front porch. Luke had acquired a taste for a particular brand of Mexican coffee, thanks to Rosa, so I brewed a fresh pot hoping that the smell would wake him from his slumber. He went into full hibernation mode when he slept, while I on the other hand sawed logs that could wake the neighbors. He never complained.

  The front page of the Parkville Post had a continuing story about Mayor Tazewell’s latest crusade against the “spread of illicit establishments swarming over our town.” He had a plan to enact strict zoning measures that would effectively close several legitimate businesses, including our favorite strip club/pizza parlor Chesty Cheese. I wondered if he realized that his own private refuge, the Bears’ Club, could be shuttered if it were more widely known what really went on inside? I think the Southern definition of hypocrisy somehow doesn’t include the actions of the more conservative members of our society.

  “Ah, my evil plan worked!” I looked over my paper to see Luke standing in the doorframe of the kitchen in his boxer shorts, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Coffee’s on the counter.” He mumbled a greeting, gave me a quick peck and walked over to grab his mug.

  “Want to go for a run this morning?” I asked.

  He stared at me blankly, then took two sips of coffee. “How the hell are you so chipper after all those drinks?” he practically whispered, taking a seat across from me.

  “Practice,” I answered. “Lots and lots of practice.”

  He parked the Jeep at his usual spot at the park. It wasn’t very crowded this morning, but there were a few other cars there. “How ‘bout we make this interesting,” I said. “A little side bet?”

  “Sure thing. What are the stakes?” he asked.

  “If I win, you have to take me out for dinner tonight. If you win, I’ll let you pick up the check.” I grinned, hoping he was still slightly asleep.

  “You’ll let me? Interesting wager you’ve laid out there,” he said. “But you can’t slip anything past me, mister. Either way you phrase it, I win,” he smirked.

  We went twice around the lake, and I kept pace with him as best as I could, but he sped past me and beat me quite handily in the final stretch. He’d been training quite a bit after Christmas, gearing up for his spring stint as track coach. He was in great shape already, but when he pushed himself, he really saw fast results.

  We were stretching after our run on a patch of grass near the asphalt, when a bright red Corvette pulled into the lot. I felt a knot in my stomach when the door opened and Jett Winthrop stepped out in his running gear. Awesome. Just who we needed to brighten our day.

  “Well, well, well,” he grinned, staring at the two of us. “Here we are, together again. Y’all are just thick as thieves, huh?”

  “What’s your point, Jett?” Luke wasn’t in the mood to play, and I could feel it in his forceful tone.

  “You know, Coach, I’m not so good at math,” Jett started, “but it seems to me that two and two make…”

  “Seems to me,” Luke interrupted, “that you should be paying more attention to yourself and worrying a little less about other people. I wouldn’t say your performance on the track was anything to brag about this week. If you want to keep your place on that team and you’re here to run, I suggest you get to it.”

  Jett let loose a slow burning smile. “Yes, sir, Coach sir!” he barked out and mock saluted, walking past us as he headed towards the running path. Luke reached down to grab his keys from the ground and stormed towards his car, not even looking back to see if I was following. I turned my head to glance up the trail just as Jett swung around and winked at me, suggestively. Shit. He was damn lucky Luke didn’t see that.

  We rode back to the house in silence. This wasn’t a time for me to solve our problems or find something funny to say. Luke was pissed, and I could feel he just needed some time to stew, but I knew it was only a matter of time before we would have to deal with this, together. He pulled into his driveway, unlocked the front door, marched down the hallway and slammed the bedroom door.

  “So… does this mean dinner’s off?” I said to no one, quietly sitting on the couch.

  This was not good.

  Luke snapped out of his fog later that afternoon. I could hear his bedroom door open before he stepped into the bathroom and took a long shower. I was in the front room catching up on some reading. I still hadn’t chosen a play for the students, and auditions needed to take place soon if we were going to pull it off. I was leaning towards a classic Arthur Miller, and I had pretty much settled on Death of a Salesman.

  “Hey, babe.” I heard Luke’s voice and I looked up to see him standing over me in a towel. “I won that bet fair and square, so I’m taking you out to dinner tonight,” he said, in a mockingly stern tone. “Don’t try and get out of it.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” I said, putting my book down and smiling at him.

  Jett may have surprised us in that battle, but I could see it in Luke’s eyes. We were going to win the war.

  As the “winner” of the bet, Luke got to choose the place, so we headed over to the Tater Tot for comfort food. We decided on a fried everything kind of night to erase the gloom and doom from earlier in the day. Plus, we had been training so much that I wasn’t even worried about the carbs. We had a massive fried onion as an appetizer, then chicken fried steak with fried green tomatoes and fried potatoes. The gravy was pan fried from the drippings, so I guess that counted, as well.

  We had been out around town together several times before, but other than that New Year’s Day brunch at Saul’s, we had almost always been part of a group. Tonight there was no Bammy, Kit or Tommy sitting with us, and if anyone were paying enough attention they would know we were together. As my mom had noted, any fool could see we were in love.

  The waitress brought over our dessert, one massive slice of Mississippi mud pie for us to share. It was a huge plate of chocolate gooey goodness covered in marshmallow creme. I was looking forward to the sugar shock when I saw Luke’s eyes freeze like a possum on a late night highway.

  “Luke? Babe, are you okay?” I asked, putting my spoon down. He was staring at the door behind my head.

  “Shit,” was all he said, under his breath. “It gets better, right? That’s what they say?”

  “Luke!�
�� I could practically hear her blond hair, diamond jewelry and oversized purse as I turned my head to see her walking towards us.

  Holy shit. Not one, but two of them.

  “Big brother, where have you been?” scolded Lana, as Luke stood up to kiss her on the cheek. “I asked Daddy and Rosa but they’re just quiet as church mice. Said they didn’t know anything and hadn’t seen you in ages. Lies. Lies. Lies.” Her eyes got wider as she giggled, menacingly. “I had to stop over there last week to get Daddy to sign some paperwork on the lake house. You’re a doll letting me have it without a fight, but you know it was Mama’s wish, since you’re getting the big house, anyway. It’s just easier taking care of all that now, you know, before that whole tax thing gets ugly. I’m sure you understand.”

  Yes. He understood. And well. Luke had mentioned that Lana was trying her damnedest to get her claws on anything and everything she could before their father, Red, passed away. He was still in great health, but she obviously didn’t want to take any chances.

  Lana Walcott was tall, blonde, and a (metaphorical) killer. Razor thin, she had been a head cheerleader in high school, and she rode her older brother’s popular coattails as far as she could. Even farther, some would argue. Her hair was usually in a high ponytail or a low knot, depending on the choice of headwear (visor or headband), and she was always dressed in the latest conservatively approved ensemble from Talbots or J. Crew. The final accessories were diamonds or pearls. Any other gem was considered too flashy.

  Following close behind, and eyeing us with a combination of suspicion, loathing and malice, all coated in a sugary sweet smile, was Lana’s shadow and best friend since high school, Amber Winthrop. Otherwise known as Jett’s mom, and… Luke’s former high school flame. When it rains it pours, y’all.