Read Online The Fireman Who Loved Me by Jennifer Bernard - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jennifer Bernard
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act? Apologetic? Standoffish? Confused? She pounced on it, then fought her disappointment at the sound of Nelly’s voice.
“Oh, hi Grans. Is something wrong?”
“There must be, you sound like someone died.”
“I’m just busy, that’s all. I’m at work, you know.”
“Work, always work. Never mind, you’re going to forget that nasty job when I tell you what’s happening on Friday.”
“I am?” said Melissa warily.
“We’re both invited to the firehouse for dinner! Those handsome firemen are going to make us dinner with their own two hands. And we are the guests of honor!”
Dinner at Brody’s fire station? A jolt of mixed emotions shot through her. Embarrassment at how she’d insulted him. Shame at how she’d thrown herself at him. And most of all, a deep thrill at the thought of seeing him again.
“I don’t know, Grans. Who invited us?”
She heard Nelly hesitate a moment. “Well, it’s part of the prize.”
“Oh Lord. The auction. Forget it, I’m not going.”
“But you have to, Melissa. You have to drive me. You know I can’t drive anymore, it’s bad for my blood pressure.”
Not to mention the California Highway Patrol’s , thought Melissa.
“Besides, it’s on Friday, and that’s Haskell’s meeting night.”
“Friday?” That rang a bell. What was Friday? Oh right, the vodka party. An idea formed
“Let me think about it. I’ll see you later, Grans.”
“Well, don’t work too much, sweetie. And tell Ella that pink suit made her look like a hooker.”
“It’s fuchsia—” But Nelly had already hung up.
Melissa gathered up a handful of Ella Joy’s glossy headshots. Due to Channel Six’s lack of a promotion department, she handled all viewer requests for photos. She had refused to do this until they’d been reshot. The originals showed Ella reclining on the news set as though it were a piano in a nightclub act. The new photos featured a perfectly respectable Ella smiling professionally at the camera. One of the editors had seen some of the old photos selling for ten dollars apiece on eBay, but Melissa didn’t feel that her obligations extended to policing the Internet.
She knocked on Ella’s office door. Her office had the feel of a sorority girl’s dorm room—piles of clothes on the chairs, even on the desk. Her mini fridge was stashed with Perrier, fruit enzyme masks, and ice cream. Ella was going through a pile of magazines, with half an eye on her TV, which was tuned to a soap opera. When Melissa knocked, Ella quickly put down her Us Weekly and directed her gaze toward Time magazine.
“Ella, do you have a minute?”
“Well . . . is it important?”
“I just need some photos signed.”
Ella perked up. She took the photos and set to work with her signature hot-pink Sharpie. “Who are these for?” she asked idly.
“A bunch of strong, good-looking, heroic public servants,” answered Melissa.
“Soldiers?” said Ella hopefully. The newscast was available for download on the Internet, and everyone at the station knew she longed for the day it would become a hot item for troops overseas.
“Firefighters. They’re heroes too, you know. When they come back from risking their lives on the fire lines, they deserve a little appreciation and inspiration.” Had she gone too far? But no, Ella was eating it up.
“Of course they do, the poor brave darlings.” As Ella signed her graceful, elaborate signature on each photo, Melissa sensed her moment.
“You are so sweet to do this. I told them I’d bring them a surprise, since they’re cooking dinner for me.”
“The firemen are cooking dinner for you?”
“Sure. At the firehouse. It’s a huge honor, I heard. They always cook for themselves, you know, and sometimes they invite people over. They actually begged . . . well, I don’t want to tell you, you might feel obligated.”
“What? Tell me what?” Ella’s blue eyes were bright with excitement.
“Well, they begged me to see if you might
“Oh, hi Grans. Is something wrong?”
“There must be, you sound like someone died.”
“I’m just busy, that’s all. I’m at work, you know.”
“Work, always work. Never mind, you’re going to forget that nasty job when I tell you what’s happening on Friday.”
“I am?” said Melissa warily.
“We’re both invited to the firehouse for dinner! Those handsome firemen are going to make us dinner with their own two hands. And we are the guests of honor!”
Dinner at Brody’s fire station? A jolt of mixed emotions shot through her. Embarrassment at how she’d insulted him. Shame at how she’d thrown herself at him. And most of all, a deep thrill at the thought of seeing him again.
“I don’t know, Grans. Who invited us?”
She heard Nelly hesitate a moment. “Well, it’s part of the prize.”
“Oh Lord. The auction. Forget it, I’m not going.”
“But you have to, Melissa. You have to drive me. You know I can’t drive anymore, it’s bad for my blood pressure.”
Not to mention the California Highway Patrol’s , thought Melissa.
“Besides, it’s on Friday, and that’s Haskell’s meeting night.”
“Friday?” That rang a bell. What was Friday? Oh right, the vodka party. An idea formed
“Let me think about it. I’ll see you later, Grans.”
“Well, don’t work too much, sweetie. And tell Ella that pink suit made her look like a hooker.”
“It’s fuchsia—” But Nelly had already hung up.
Melissa gathered up a handful of Ella Joy’s glossy headshots. Due to Channel Six’s lack of a promotion department, she handled all viewer requests for photos. She had refused to do this until they’d been reshot. The originals showed Ella reclining on the news set as though it were a piano in a nightclub act. The new photos featured a perfectly respectable Ella smiling professionally at the camera. One of the editors had seen some of the old photos selling for ten dollars apiece on eBay, but Melissa didn’t feel that her obligations extended to policing the Internet.
She knocked on Ella’s office door. Her office had the feel of a sorority girl’s dorm room—piles of clothes on the chairs, even on the desk. Her mini fridge was stashed with Perrier, fruit enzyme masks, and ice cream. Ella was going through a pile of magazines, with half an eye on her TV, which was tuned to a soap opera. When Melissa knocked, Ella quickly put down her Us Weekly and directed her gaze toward Time magazine.
“Ella, do you have a minute?”
“Well . . . is it important?”
“I just need some photos signed.”
Ella perked up. She took the photos and set to work with her signature hot-pink Sharpie. “Who are these for?” she asked idly.
“A bunch of strong, good-looking, heroic public servants,” answered Melissa.
“Soldiers?” said Ella hopefully. The newscast was available for download on the Internet, and everyone at the station knew she longed for the day it would become a hot item for troops overseas.
“Firefighters. They’re heroes too, you know. When they come back from risking their lives on the fire lines, they deserve a little appreciation and inspiration.” Had she gone too far? But no, Ella was eating it up.
“Of course they do, the poor brave darlings.” As Ella signed her graceful, elaborate signature on each photo, Melissa sensed her moment.
“You are so sweet to do this. I told them I’d bring them a surprise, since they’re cooking dinner for me.”
“The firemen are cooking dinner for you?”
“Sure. At the firehouse. It’s a huge honor, I heard. They always cook for themselves, you know, and sometimes they invite people over. They actually begged . . . well, I don’t want to tell you, you might feel obligated.”
“What? Tell me what?” Ella’s blue eyes were bright with excitement.
“Well, they begged me to see if you might
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