Page 7 of Bronx

"Bulldozer has his moments, but I'd trust him with my life up on the mountain. He's one helluva firefighter."

She pushed her feet into the sand. "Very diplomatic. We were high school sweethearts. He was the captain of the football team, and I was a cheerleader, so as you know from every teen movie ever made—it was destined. Didn't really want to be that girl, the one who cheered at games and dated the team star, but it was what my mom and dad expected. They sort of had my whole life planned for me at birth. And they were good friends with the Raffertys. You could almost say it was a planned marriage. Funny though, the parents are no longer friends."

"Interesting. I know Bulldozer mentioned something about marrying his high school sweetheart." I looked toward the water again. The blonde had jumped off Bulldozer's shoulders, and he heaved himself back into the boat.

"You thought the pretty blonde was Layla," she added.

"Yeah, guess I did."

"Well, considering she was basically sitting on his lap while on the boat—" she started. The boat fired up, temporarily muting our conversation. Topper pulled the boat out into the water. It seemed they were heading across to the island, our island. Suddenly, I wished I was in one of those lost on a deserted island scenarios. It made me laugh.

Layla tapped my foot with her own. "I knew our marriage was comical but . . ."

"No, really, I wasn't laughing about that. I was just thinking that I've now answered the proverbial question—" I turned to her. The brown gaze caught me off guard a second, and I temporarily lost my train of thought.

"What proverbial question?" she prodded. The boat motor and Bulldozer's voice were getting louder.

"If you could pick one person to be stranded on a deserted island with—" I didn't finish. She knew my response.

Her toe rubbed against my foot teasingly. "Huh, you're right. I think that answer is easy now."

The boat horn startled us out of the rather intense magnetic gaze that had held us briefly together.

"Come on, Tiger, I'm hungry! They're starting the barbecue," Bulldozer bellowed toward the island in his usual megaphone style voice. He couldn't see us behind all the foliage.

Layla stood up and brushed the sand off her bottom. "Need a lift across?" she asked.

"Nah, think I'll stay here awhile longer, then swim back."

She trotted off through the shrubs. From my vantage point, I had a stealthy view of the island's shore and the boat. Bulldozer didn't seem to have a smile for Layla as she emerged from the shrubbery. If I was in his shoes, I'd be grinning like a love-struck fool every time I saw her. Her impossibly long legs glided along, slender hips swaying as she strolled toward the boat. Just before reaching it, she glanced back toward where I was sitting. It was hard to know if she could see me, but I could absolutely see her. She pushed a hair behind her ear and a faint smile crossed her lips. It was another second I'd keep forever, clear as day, like every second of the past fifteen minutes.

Bulldozer leaned over the side of the boat and swept his massive arm around her small waist to haul her on board. The boat turned around and puttered back to the beach. I could still see her white bikini in the distance as she climbed off the boat. I'd already memorized the rhythm of her walk. And her voice, well, it was seared in my mind for eternity.

I stretched all the way back on the sand, lifted my arms and rested my head on my hands.

"Fuck."

5

Present

Sewing machines whirred in the back room as parachutes were being inspected for damage and repaired. Helix was leaning against the lockers, staring at his phone when I walked into the room. His pink puckered arm indicated yet another tattoo added to the sleeve of tattoos covering both arms. After his best friend, Bulldozer, died on the mountain, he drastically changed his appearance, shaving his head close and keeping it that way. The tattoo obsession had started before the accident, but it really gained steam after we buried Bulldozer. He'd even gotten an actual bulldozer inked into his right shoulder blade. The date of Bulldozer's death was etched in black ink beneath it. Helix and I had been thrown together on the mountain many times, and we worked fine as a team, but we'd never become friends because Bulldozer and I were never friends.

Kaos stomped into the locker room, hard and loud, his usual gait. The lockers vibrated. Helix pushed off of them. "Shit, you overgrown yeti, you're making the whole room shake." Kaos was one of the few people who had to duck down to see inside his locker. He reached inside and grabbed out a rubber band for his long, dark hair. He pulled back the top half and secured it to be out of his face. It was a hairstyle that only fortified the massive Highlander aura.

"You just need a kilt," I said as he finished with his hair. "And the accent," I added.

"Fuck, I wish I had that accent. Women love it." Kaos ducked down again to check out the mirror at the back of his locker. "Never mind, the accent isn't necessary. They love me anyway." He slammed the locker shut. The whole room shook again. "I hear the weather's going to be nice for the memorial service." His comment was directed at Helix.

Just bringing it up caused Helix to frown and shake his head. "Can't fucking believe it's been a year. It still feels too unreal to me. Keep expecting his big booming voice to call me from the back room."

"Yeah, it sure as hell is different without him." Kaos walked over and clapped Helix on the shoulder. He lumbered past me. "You going to the service?" he asked, casually. It was a question that grabbed Helix's attention.

I glanced fleetingly at Helix, then turned back to Kaos. "Why does everyone keep asking me that? Why the hell wouldn't I go to the service?"

Kaos lifted his giant meaty hands in surrender. "Don't get touchy. Just wondering. I mean, after the fight and all, just thought—"

Helix hadn't added in his two cents, even though I was sure he had more than two cents to add. He had, however, latched intensely onto the conversation.

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