Total Rush (21 page)

“Where's Rapunzel?”

Sean frowned. “You're friggin' relentless, you know that?” In no mood to tell Leary about the breakup, he thought fast. It was Saturday afternoon. “She's at her store. Couldn't get anyone to fill in for her.”

“What's the name of the store again? I'd love to check it out.”

Sean pretended he didn't hear as he drifted away. That was the last thing he needed: Mike Leary checking out the Golden Bough, scoping out all the weird stuff Gemma sold. He could just imagine the tales Leary would tell back at the firehouse.

He made his way to one of the coolers and pulled out a Guinness. Scanning the room, he spotted JJ Roper sitting alone off in a corner. JJ, one of the handful of women in the FDNY, entered the fire academy the same time as Sean. But unlike Sean, she had yet to be truly accepted by the guys in her house. Sean had heard more than one firefighter express relief there wasn't a woman at their house. It would change the whole dynamic, some guys claimed. We'd have to watch our mouths and take the porn out of the bathroom, others pointed out. A few even doubted women could pull their weight on the job, despite evidence to the contrary. Sean figured guys were threatened by JJ. She was strong as a horse and totally competent, but she was also drop-dead gorgeous, with legs up to her neck and cascading blond hair she usually wore back in a braid. If she heard half the sexual innuendo she generated, the department would find itself with a major harassment suit. He felt bad seeing her sitting there alone, her outsider status obviously still intact. He decided to join her.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” JJ's smile was grateful as Sean sat down beside her. “I didn't expect to see you here.”

“What, are you kidding me? Miss Nabby's retirement? Not for the world.”

JJ looked to the front of the room at the man in question. “What's he going to do now, I wonder?”

“His brother's a contractor. Nabby's been working for him on the side for years. I think he's gonna work with him full-time now.”

“And how does Mrs. Nabby feel about that, I wonder?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Nabby split up about seven month ago, I believe.”

“Really? A divorced firefighter? That's hard to believe.” Her laugh was hard as she drained her drink.

Her bitterness caught Sean's attention. “Trouble at home?” His eyes did a quick scan of the room. “Where's Chris?”

Chris was JJ's husband. In addition to being a prick of world renown, he was also a cop. Lots of cops secretly longed to be firefighters, and the animosity between the two professions was strong. The annual hockey game between the two departments' teams was always a bloodbath. It wasn't uncommon for JJ to bring Chris to firefighter functions and the evening to end in fisticuffs.

“He's on duty, making the world safe for democracy.”

“Am I detecting a little sarcasm here?”

“A little.”

“What's up?”

JJ held up a hand as if to say, “Wait a minute,” and jogged off to refill her drink. “You sure you want to hear this?” she asked Sean when she returned.

“Sure, as long as it's not X-rated.”

“It's not.” She sipped from her plastic cup. “I want a baby and Chris doesn't. And he wants me to quit the department. Says it's too dangerous.”

Sean shook his head, guffawing loudly. “Jesus. I wonder if he's related to my gi—ex-girlfriend.”
Ex-girlfriend.
It felt odd even saying it to himself.

JJ looked at him with newfound interest. “I didn't know you had a girlfriend.”

“I did, until yesterday.”

“What happened?”

Sean shrugged, not exactly eager to talk about it. “She couldn't handle my being a firefighter, among other things.” He glanced away. “We just didn't work as a couple, you know? It's hard to explain.”

“That's too bad.”

“Yeah, it is.”

Her expression changed to one of concern. “You look really awful, you know.”

“Thanks. You're the second person in less than ten minutes to tell me that.”

“Aren't you sleeping?”

“Not much.”

There was a split second of hesitation before she asked, “Does this have to do with the brownstone fire?”

Sean slumped against the wall miserably. “Maybe. What have you heard?”

JJ looked uncomfortable. “You know. The kid. The chest.”

Sean glanced at her sharply. “So word's gotten around I'm a fuckup.”

JJ peered down into her drink. “It could have happened to anyone, Sean.”

“Then why is everyone talking about it?”

“Firefighters are gossiping old biddies. You know that.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “Look, I'm sorry I even brought it up.”

“Yeah, me too. Thanks for ruining my day.” Sean tilted his head back and drank.

JJ, stung by Sean's response, started to get up to leave. Sean, feeling even worse now, reached out for her elbow. “I'm sorry. That was totally unnecessary. Sit back down. Please.” He made himself look at her. “ Do I really look that bad?”

“Yeah.”

“Great.”

“When was the last time you took a few days off, Sean? Got away on your own?”

“I don't know. Months ago.”

“Maybe you should go away for a long weekend or something. It might help.” JJ sighed. “I would love to get away on my own for a few days. Just to think.”

“Why don't you?”

“Can't afford it. We're mortgaged up to the eyeballs on the house. Plus, Chris would probably squawk.”

“So let him squawk.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Leary motioning to him. “Can you excuse me a minute?”

JJ nodded and Sean went to rejoin his friend. “What's up?”

“You hittin' on her?” Leary asked excitedly.

“What are you, out of your mind?”

“Why not? She's hot.”

“She's also married. To a prick who carries a gun. Remember?”

“Oh, yeah, New York's finest. Forgot about that.”

Sean poked him hard on the shoulder. “Here's an idea: Why don't you mind your own business instead about worrying about everyone else's?”

Leary's mouth fell open. “What wild hair is up your ass today?”

“Nothing. Look, I gotta go. Give my best wishes to Nabby.” He gave Leary a light, playful punch in the arm. “I'll catch you on the rebound, okay?”

He strode away. Everyone was getting on his nerves. Everything. JJ was right. He needed to get away.

 

 

“
Kiss her again
and she'll get a complex.”

Gemma looked up from cuddling baby Domenica to see Michael and Theresa coming through the front door. Only twenty minutes earlier, they'd left to go out to dinner alone for the first time since their daughter was born. Now they were back, Theresa hurrying toward the couch with outstretched arms. Michael sounded like he was teasing but he looked alarmed.

“Is everything okay?” Gemma asked, surrendering the baby.

“You tell me.” Michael sighed, regarding his wife affectionately. “Mama Bear couldn't relax. As soon as she ordered, she was convinced there'd been some catastrophe and we had to rush home.”

Gemma eyed Theresa. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“It's not you,” Theresa swore, kissing her daughter's plump fists. “It's some weird maternal thing. I couldn't bear to be away from her.”

“You're away from her when you're at work,” Michael pointed out.

“Only because I have to be. This is different.”

“I can't wait 'til she goes away to college and you want to be her roommate,” Michael teased.

“She's not going away to college. She's living at home and getting her degree online.”

Crouching down, Michael put his mouth to his daughter's ear. “Your mama's
ubatz,
Domenica. The sooner you know it, the better.”

Touched as she was by this domestic scene, Gemma felt out of place. “I guess my services aren't needed tonight.”

“Don't go,” Michael said. “We haven't had dinner yet.” He gave Theresa a look. “We're going to order Chinese. Stay.”

“You sure?”

“Stay,” Theresa echoed. “I want to hear all about you and Sean.”

“Actually,” Gemma said, working hard to sound nonchalant, “Sean and I broke up.”

Storm clouds brewed in Michael's eyes. “What happened?”

“It was mutual, Mikey. No need to spear him with your hockey stick.”

“If you say so,” Michael grumbled, heading toward the kitchen. “What do you people want to eat?”

“Eggplant in garlic sauce,” Gemma called out.

“Moo shu pork,” Theresa said. She turned to Gemma. “It was mutual?” she repeated, sounding unconvinced. Off in the kitchen, they could hear Michael opening and closing drawers, looking for the takeout menu.

“Kind of. I don't know.”

As Theresa held her daughter on her lap, she and Domenica looked like a modern-day Madonna and Child. Both of them glowed with contentment, making Gemma painfully aware of the void in her own life. Gemma wanted what Theresa had: a husband, a baby, and a quiet Saturday night at home eating Chinese takeout and watching videos. Was that too much to ask?

“What happened?” Theresa demanded in a low voice tinged with urgency. Gemma took this as a sign they should have this discussion quickly, since Michael was now on the phone ordering their food.

“It just wasn't working,” Gemma confessed sadly. “I was a wreck every time he went to work, which annoyed him, and my being a witch was a little too far off the beaten track for him. It was all sorts of things.”

“What about the sex?” Theresa mouthed, as if the baby she now jostled on her knee might hear and understand.

Gemma blushed. “It was great. But he was involved in this bad fire a couple of weeks ago, and ever since then, it's been like talking to a brick wall.”

“Maybe he was afraid that if he talked to you about it, you'd really freak out.”

“Maybe.”

It was possible Theresa had something there. Still, Sean's silence felt more symptomatic of a lack of trust, a failure to connect. Thinking about him, Gemma was overcome with remorse and self-doubt. Maybe she should have left him alone rather than prodding him to open up? But keeping your thoughts and feelings to yourself was so alien. Her family wore their hearts on their sleeves. She and Frankie talked everything to death. Communication was the yardstick by which you measured relationships: how intimately people knew each other's business. Now she wondered: Were there other ways of being intimate?

Michael reappeared in the living room. “Ten minutes on the chow. Which really means twenty.” He settled down on the couch between his wife and cousin, transferring the baby onto his lap. “So, what did I miss?”

“Nothing,” Theresa said.

He looked at Gemma, who detected sympathy in his eyes. “I can set you up with another of the guys on the team, if you want,” he offered.

“I'll think about it.” She held out her arms. “Give that baby back to me. You guys get to hold her all the time. I've got to steal time with her when I can.”

Michael willingly obliged, handing Domenica over to Gemma. She was such an easygoing baby, affectionate, with a big, gummy smile for everyone. Holding her reminded Gemma of fiddling with a camera lens: It brought everything into sharp focus, including her own behavior. She should have cut Sean some slack. She should have waited for Sean to call her. He would have eventually; she knew that. She hated the way they parted, him snarling and angry, her just withdrawing. It felt wrong. She loved him. She wanted him. She would fight for him. If he needed some space, she'd give it to him. But there was no way she was going to give up on him, or let him give up on himself.

 

 

She waited until
the next morning to pay Sean a visit. She had toyed with the idea of stopping by as soon as she got back from Michael and Theresa's, but it was late, and she had no idea of his schedule that week. Besides, she didn't want to look desperate. Or crazy.

It wasn't much of a peace offering, but Gemma had run out to battle the typical Sunday morning crowd to get coffee and some of the chocolate chip muffins Sean loved. Walking back to their building, she rehearsed what she'd say.
I come bearing muffins.
Too geeky.
Can we talk?
Better, more her style: simple, direct. Once he smelled the coffee and muffins, still warm in her hand, how could he resist? She wasn't feeling nervous, exactly. More anticipatory.

By the time she reached Sean's door, her heart was beating double time. She went to knock then hesitated, convinced she heard shouting coming from inside his apartment. Glancing around to make sure no one was looking, she quickly pressed her ear to the door. Definitely shouting, though it was muffled. Sounded like just one voice. Unsure of what to do, she stopped eavesdropping. If he was asleep and having a nightmare, ringing the bell would wake him. If he was on the phone having an argument, she would interrupt him.
What to do?

She bit her lip. The raised voice seemed to have gone quiet, at least momentarily. Meanwhile, the coffee in her hand was getting cold.

“To hell with it,” she said out loud and rang the bell.

Immediately, Pete and Roger went crazy in their cages, their excited squawking louder than Gemma could have imagined. She cringed, praying Sean came to the door before his neighbors up and down the hall got angry. Ten-thirty on a Sunday morning might be too early for some people.