Arson, p.5
Arson, page 5
Text from Archie - “My address is 1043 Benson Street. I’m up on the sixteenth floor in 16B. My doorman will let you up. Thank you so much, Darby. I really want to talk about this. I think you may be the only person to understand what I’m going through. I’m so confused about what to do, and my phone won’t stop ringing off the damn hook. Even my parents have called twice asking why I didn’t tell them I could control fire. Like I knew that?”
Getting up from the couch and still ignoring the subsequent fart sound, I begin grooming myself so that I don’t look like a mortgage processor. My black and white plaid office dress drops just below my knee, and I smooth it from wrinkles as I walk quickly to my office. Thankfully, I have a drawer full of supplies that I can use to freshen up for a social event after work.
I unbutton one of the upper buttons to swipe some deodorant on and leave the button undone a bit. Surely, Archie won’t mind if he can get a peek at the white lace bra underneath of it if I were ever to bend over tonight. After the deodorant, I spray a bit of body spray in a light scent and quickly twist my hair back into a messy bun with a few tendrils hanging down. Lipstick and a bit of eyeliner finish the effect, and I hurriedly throw all of my necessary items into my messenger bag to leave.
***
The scene at Archie’s apartment building is chaotic. News vans are double-parked up and down the street, and reporters are speaking in front of bright camera lights with Archie’s building in the background. Police have blockaded the sidewalk around the entrance to Archie’s building, and bystanders are hovering around outside the blockades asking police what’s happening. How am I going to get in here?
Pulling out my phone, I dial the number from the text message and hope Archie picks up. “Hey,” I begin when he picks up the phone. “Can you have your doorman help me into the building? It doesn’t look like they’re letting anyone in the door.”
“Oh, hell. I’ll be right down. I think I’ll have to get you. Ernie, the door guy, is kind of old and probably wouldn’t find you in that crowd even if you were standing right in front of him.”
“Alright. I’m down in the street at the edge of the sidewalk. I’m wearing a black and white plaid dress.”
“Awesome. Get as close as you can,” Archie instructs before disconnecting the call.
After a few minutes, the entry doors part, and Archie tentatively steps outside. He’s wearing gray sweatpants, a plain black t-shirt that fits nicely over what I can tell is a ripped abdomen. He’s barefoot, and the sweatpants are hanging low on his hips. One look at him, and I want to slide my hand down the sweatpants and see how firm that ass is underneath. He’s breathtakingly handsome, even in those damn gray sweatpants.
I’m not the only one that notices him. A few seconds after the door opens, a woman screams, “There he is!”
All hell breaks loose. People immediately swarm the police blockades, and the news reporters bring their bright cameras over to the fray. Archie squints into the lights and tries to block his eyes from the sudden brightness and noise of the people screaming.
“Mr. Morganstern! Mr. Morganstern, over here! How can you move fire, Mr. Morganstern?” The press is yelling from what seems like a million directions.
Even though the lights are in his eyes, Archie squints in my direction. His eyes go wide when he recognizes me shuffling toward the front of the crowd.
“Wait your turn, bitch!” One woman yells at me when I try to squeeze by her. People are jostling each other and throwing elbows like Archie’s a famous rock star.
Archie moves forward and reaches out for me with his hand. I reach for him, and he pulls me through to the edge of the crowd. As soon as he pulls me to his chest, he doesn’t even wait to blink. He spins me around and covers my head to avoid the cameras as we rush to his entryway.
Once we’re inside the entry, a flurry of activity happens at the door. People actually got through the blockades and are beating on the glass door.
“We need to hustle to my apartment,” Archie mumbles as we head in the direction of a double set of old-time elevators. “Ernie!! Call the police and tell them to send more people. It’s a madhouse out there.”
The old man with gray hair and a set of hearing aids sitting behind the front desk already has an ear to a phone. “I’m working on it now, Mr. Morganstern! They’ll have more out soon.”
Archie presses the button on the elevator impatiently as we look at each other out of our peripheral vision. Archie seems really nervous, and his hands are shaking. Thankfully, the elevator arrives in a few seconds, and we get in the elevator car. Archie presses the button for his floor, and the doors shut before he even turns to me.
“Are you hurt?” Archie asks with a frown.
“No. I’m ok. It’s wild out there, huh? Some lady really wanted to get close to you and almost knocked me down. It would seem you’re the new hot thing in Jensen City.” I smile at him jokingly to lighten the situation. “I guess I’ll have some competition for ramen Friday night now, huh?”
“Believe me when I say you won’t. There’s no one I’d rather have ramen with,” Archie says as he turns to stare straight into my eyes. His eyes lock onto mine, and he runs a hand over his day-old cheek stubble. “I’ve been looking forward to it since you agreed to go with me. It’s kind of the highlight of my week.”
“This coming from a guy who saved a bunch of people and found out he can control fire.”
“That should tell you how excited I am for our date Friday.”
The elevator door opens, and Archie leads me down the hall to his apartment door and opens the door for me. I step into a well-kept apartment commiserate with a single guy on a fireman’s salary. It’s simple, with a small hallway for the entryway and a kitchen immediately off to the left of the door. The appliances look modern and clean, and the countertops are granite. The kitchen leads into an open living room with a nice view of the downtown area. It’s not a penthouse, but it’s still a great view of the city skyline. Archie’s furniture is simple, but he has that typical bachelor syndrome of having the biggest and best appliances. It's all TV and little decoration.
“Please sit and make yourself at home. Would you like something to drink or anything?” Archie asks as he taps his fingers on his waist and looks around the apartment. I can tell he’s nervous. “I can make you some coffee. I don’t know about you, but I could use a stiff drink, too.”
“Do you have any whiskey?”
“You like whiskey?” Archie asks like he’s surprised.
I’m used to this response from men when I tell them my drink of choice. “Did you think I was a wine girl?”
“Am I a stereotypical jackass if I admit that I did?” Archie cocks his eyebrow as if he’s not sure if I’m pissed. “I do have whiskey, though. How do you take it?”
“Rocks. I may as well enjoy ice before they ban it with the water crisis. No mix.”
“I think we’ll get along just fine,” Archie responds with a chuckle.
He goes over to a small bar cart and pulls out a bottle and a couple of low glasses. Using tongs, he casually grabs some ice cubes from an ice chest below the bar. Pouring amber liquid into each glass, he takes a few deep breaths like he wants to talk more in-depth but isn’t sure how to approach it. He walks my glass over to me as I take my high heels off and tuck them under my legs on his black leather couch.
“So,” I begin with a chuckle and cock my head. “Let’s talk about your day. Did anything interesting happen?”
“Haha,” he replies deadpan. Archie covers his lap with a pillow and leans back to put his head on the back of the couch. “I don’t know what happened. This has never happened before. One second, I thought I was going to die. The next second, there was an arch of fire above me that I was holding with my hand. Then, for whatever reason, I could move fire from side to side.”
“How long have you been a fireman?” I ask, curious. Maybe he’s had this power for a long time and never noticed. “Is it possible you’ve been able to do this for longer than you think?”
“Not possible. I would have used it before now. My old chief, Chief Smythe, died a few months ago. I was there and couldn’t save him then. If I could have saved him, I would have. He was a good man and a good friend.”
“So, let’s think about this. What’s different? Did anything happen to you?” I wrack my brain, trying to think of an example. “I don’t know. Were you involved in any weird nuclear disasters or anything?”
Archie lifts his head to take a drink from his whiskey and looks as if he’s thinking. “Well, there is one thing that happened,” he mumbles as he stares into space. “The night I met you, I fell into this goo-like stuff that was in the warehouse. It kind of burned. I went to the doctor after I left the hospital because I was worried it was cancer-causing or something. I don’t know. I know I had problems with pins and needles feeling afterward.”
“Goo? Like slime or something?”
“Maybe. I didn’t get a chance to investigate because the warehouse was destroyed,” Archie says while shaking his head. “It just doesn’t make any sense. How could slime exposure cause me to control fire?”
“Well, so far, it’s the only lead we have. What do you know about Dallas Industries?”
“I know they’ve had a couple of warehouse fires in the last few months. The warehouses were completely destroyed with nothing salvageable.”
I take out my phone and do a quick Internet search on Dallas Industries. “It looks like they specialize in plastics and mundane stuff,” I say as I scroll through their website. “There are a lot of plastic utensils, pet toys, dog bowls, cereal bowls type stuff on their website. I don’t see anything that would look too nefarious. They’ve pretty much cornered the market on plastic items to government facilities and veterinary hospitals. They also make protective phone cases. It looks like it’s a billion-dollar company.”
“Isn’t there some type of chemical aspect of plastic production? Is it possible that there was a chemical problem of some sort?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, but it sounds like it’s worth looking into.”
“Will you help me?” Archie asks, turning toward me and arching an eyebrow.
“What do you mean help?”
“I need to know what was in the goo that spilled on me. It may not even have caused my new ability, but I need to be sure.” Archie takes another drink, and the ice rattles in his glass. “Do you think your friend from the bar could find this Porter guy? Maybe he knows something?”
“It’s worth a shot. That’s actually a good start. I’ll have Frank text me when he sees Porter again,” I mumble as I fumble with my phone and fire off a text to Frank.
Putting my phone in my pocket, I nervously pat down my dress again. Something about Archie makes me feel like a high school girl on her first date. It’s a good nervous. I get butterflies in my stomach whenever I’m with him. Archie nervously bites his lip and shakes his leg. After a minute of awkward silence, Archie slowly turns his head to me and places his hand at his side on the couch as if he’s unsure of what to do with it. I can think of a few things he could do with his fingers, and I blush at the thought.
“Darby, I really want to thank you for believing me. I knew you would.”
I don’t know what comes over me, but I slide my own hand over the top of Archie’s hand and intertwine my fingers with his. The flash hits me, and I don’t try to block it. I welcome it because, honestly, I’m damn nosy about what Archie dreams about. Maybe it’s a violation of privacy, but I welcome his dream into my flash.
What I see causes me to blush even further. In the dream, Archie and I are on a boat somewhere over a large body of water. The thought that he dreamed of me last night hit me like a ton of bricks and causes me to gasp.
“What’s wrong?” Archie asks with a concerned look on his face. “Are you seeing my dream from last night?”
I keep my eyes closed because I can’t bear to look at him while I explain his own thoughts about me. “You dreamt of me. We’re in the ocean or on a large lake. We were fishing or had fished; I can’t quite tell. Your arm is around me, and you’re going to kiss me.” At that point, I end the flash because I’m embarrassed of where I think his dream is going. “I can’t see the end,” I lie.
“Too bad. I don’t remember the end, and I was hoping it was good,” Archie whispers and finishes his drink with a smirk. “I was wondering if it was a good kiss.”
I gulp, and heat moves up my body. He chuckles, and his thumb strokes the back of my hand as electric fire moves through my abdomen at his touch.
“Are you hungry?” Archie asks, putting his empty drink on the coffee table and tossing the pillow aside.
“What did you have in mind? Are we ordering in?”
“I think we can sneak out the delivery entrance and go get that ramen a bit earlier than we planned. What do you think?” Archie asks and offers me his hand to stand up.
Chapter 7
Archie
Darby and I walk through the door of the bustling ramen eatery about an hour later. To be honest, I’m glad to be out of the apartment because I had to put a pillow over my lap to keep from showing Darby my raging hard-on for her. The moment I saw her in her work dress with her hair up, I wanted to kiss every inch of her. The thought of that made my body betray me in ways it hasn’t since middle school. It was a relief to sneak out the back door and down the alley to avoid the paparazzi. It’s easier to be in public with her where there are more distractions.
The ramen restaurant is a favorite of mine, and I know the menu like the back of my hand. The small shop windows are foggy from the constant steam, and the cafe has black and red tile flooring. Small, kitschy statues of animals decorate white sconces around the room. Darby and I pick a black booth toward the back of the place and pick up the paper menu placemat.
“Do you like spicy food? If so, the spicy ramen dish is really great. You can get any meat you want,” I say as I place my menu down to watch her decide over her menu.
“I love spicy food! Are we soul mates?” Darby jokes with a smile, but part of me wonders, and even hopes, that she’s serious.
The waitress comes over to take our order, and she eyeballs me. I order quickly and hope the waitress will move quickly away from the table to forget about trying to recognize me. I can almost see her brain matter trying to make the connection on how she knows me. She’s a new waitress, so the only way she would know me is if she’s seen the news in the last few hours.
Once she hurries back to the kitchen to fill the order, I sneak a look around the restaurant to make sure people haven’t caught on that I’m in here. The scene at my apartment building was weird. I don’t feel like a hero, and I’m sure not someone who likes that kind of attention.
“Penny for your thoughts. You seem lost in your own world,” Darby says as she sips her complimentary glass of water. “Are you worried we’ll be spotted?”
“Kind of. I’m not used to this stuff. I’ve always felt uneasy in the spotlight.”
Darby reaches across the table and grabs my hand again. I hold it up so she can lace her fingers with mine. She cocks her head to the side and smiles at me kindly. “It’ll pass,” she murmurs. “Next week, there’ll be someone else on their radar, or something weird will happen. Even if the news and public don’t forget about you, at least they’ll stop hounding you at home.”
“I hope so,” I whisper while chewing on my lip and gazing at Darby. “Can we talk about you now?”
“Me?”
“We’re having ramen a couple of nights early, but I still want to use this time to get to know you. I’d also like to know how you control your, um, what do you call it?”
“Power? Gift?” Darby guesses and wrinkles her nose adorably.
“Yeah, that. Tell me about it. How did you find out you could do something different? Can you control it?”
“I’ve been able to see people’s most recent dreams as long as I can remember. I was born with it. My mom had it. It’s just always been with me, so I don’t know life without it. I guess I never really knew what it was like to have a so-called normal life,” Darby whispers, trying to keep surrounding tables from hearing her.
“It’s come in handy, but it’s mostly an annoyance. I already mentioned seeing what past boyfriends dreamed about,” Darby sighs. “Job interviews are even worse. I shook hands with my first interviewer at a pizza place when I was fifteen. I saw visions of a creepy clown murdering him while he was naked. After that, I started to really try to imagine a wall in my head when I touch someone. It worked better as I reached college. Now, at thirty-two, I can kind of shut things out. If I’m sick or drinking or something like that, I always see it, though. I have to have laser focus to control it.”
“But you learned to control it? This gives me hope that I can control whatever it is that happened to me,” I say with more pep than I’ve felt all day.
“I think so. Did you control the fire the way you wanted to when you wanted to move it?”
“Yeah. Now that you mention it, it went the way I wanted it to go.”
“Did you light anything on fire randomly or cause any accidents?” Darby asks, tilting her head.
“No. I can’t make fire. I think I can just move it,” I say, and I can hear the uncertainty in my voice. “So, this could almost be a good thing. Maybe I can use it to control fire and save lives. With this stupid water crisis going on, we’ve had to let buildings burn if there would be no loss of life or major property loss. Maybe this can help until we get over this weird drought.”
“I think so. I think this is truly something that can be used for good,” Darby says as she runs her thumb up and down my hand. “I think it’s pretty cool,” she whispers with a smirk. “You’re kind of my personal hero. First, you save me from the fire, and now you saved a bunch of people. You’ll probably save a lot more with this.”
Her words ignite something inside of my chest as I meet her eyes. Calling me her personal hero is intoxicating, and I want to lean over the cheap black table and kiss her for the rest of the night.
