Page 6 of The Fireman and the Flirt

“Derek’s in the process of buying a house.” Cal loved to be my spokesperson.

“I am?” I asked Cal. “That’s yet to be determined.”

“Yes. You’re planning to stay. You need a house.”

“But you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need,” Russ threw in.

“He knows that, but he and Jolene don’t want to live out of a suitcase forever.” Cal tipped his head at his husband. “Have you called Cary yet?”

“It’s on my to-do list, just under finding a job.” I had a meeting with the fire department. They had openings from what I’d seen online, and my experience as a volunteer firefighter should make me qualified.

“You don’t want to wait. Cary says the market is still busy this time of year. All the good houses will be gone by January,” said my brother, ever the drama queen.

“It’s okay. I packed a tent.” I smirked at him, finding a small pleasure in getting under his skin. I was too far away to kick him under the table.

“Who’s Cary?” Jolene asked.

“He’s my friend, and a killer real estate agent,” Cal said. “He helped me sell my old house. I promise you, nobody will work harder on your behalf.”

“He takes his job very seriously, if I remember correctly,” Russ said. “Talks a lot.”

“What’s wrong with talking? Humans were meant to communicate,” Cal said in a serious British actor accent. He did voiceover work for commercials, and he loved to throw in a random voice to emphasize his point. I was not born with the same dramatic flair. We came from opposite ends of the womb.

Cal turned back to Jolene. “We went to high school together. We used to hang out while your dad and his friends got into trouble.”

Mitch and I shared a busted look, memories of smoking up in my room and sneaking my dad’sPlayboycame to mind.

“We have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said.

“I’m sure you don’t.” Cal huffed out a laugh.

“Cary was that weird, skinny kid,” Mitch said.

“Weird how?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Kinda dorky. He’d say awkward things and laugh but they weren’t funny, stuff like that. Didn’t he pull a muscle when he tried out to be the school mascot?”

“Being a mascot is a very physically intensive undertaking,” said Cal, forever defensive of his friends.

“And didn’t he have a nickname?” Mitch scratched at his beard, and now that he mentioned it, an image of Cary came into view. Eager eyes, shy, skinny, awkward. The name had vaguely sounded familiar, but I couldn’t think of who he actually was.

“There was no nickname,” Cal said.

“Yeah, there was some story about him in high school. It was after we graduated. What was it? He was at a party and did something in a car…” Mitch punched my arm, his way of asking if I remembered. Again, things were vague with Cary. My mind was a million other places in high school. Hockey, girls, my car, life after graduation. “I think he was trying to flirt with a guy on the soccer team or something, so he put the whole gear shift knob in his mouth, and then he threw up.”

“Lovely,” Russ muttered.

“Gearhead. That’s what people called him! Because it was like he was giving…” Mitch’s eyes darted to the young children at the table, then at Russ who was two seconds away from full-blown panic.

“We all have different ways of expressing our interest in someone. Cary had a crush, and he took a chance, and it didn’t pay off,” Cal said.

“You could say his chances were stuck in neutral,” Charlie said.

“He doesn’t deserve to be mocked. That was over twenty years ago, and we don’t need to rehash it over dinner.” Cal got up and took his dirty dish to the sink.

“What happened? What happened?” Quentin asked, dying to be included in adult conversation.

“Nothing,” Russ said firmly. “It’s nobody’s business except Cary’s, and I doubt he wants to bring up stupid things from high school.”

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