AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I moved back to Texas and realized—I had nobody left, an ever-increasing debt load, and parents that recently decided they wanted to explore their sexual horizons, and apparently weren’t afraid to talk to their daughter about it.
Which is about as gross as it sounds.
Anyway, my parents are in Florida now.
The great Fiona-exodus. Anyone and everyone in my life decided that when I returned to Texas, it was time to skedaddle.
Leaving me in a crappy apartment with my falling-apart car that’s one piece of loose duct tape away from being a total wreck.
The only decent thing I have going for me is my rock-climbing gym membership.
Which I really can’t afford, but I’m pretty sure I’d lose my mind if I couldn’t go climb at least once a week.
And I have Mr. Gorgeous-Asshole to follow around.
I sip my non-alcoholic drink, eat my healthy deep-fried wings, and think about the way Gareth shoved the seatbelt over my body. It’s hard not to daydream about that man, with those big hands, beautiful eyes, his shoulders like mountains, his slim-fitted suits—if he weren’t such a nightmare, I’d probably find him attractive.
Fortunately, I don’t. He’s handsome, but that’s different from beingattractive. I want to look at him in a purely clinical way, like how I look at statues in museums.
I don’t want to get anywherenearhim.
Except for when he gets all bossy and shoves the seatbelt down over me.
Then maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t mind if he got a little bit more exploratory. With his hands. On my body.
God, Fiona, get it together.
An hour passes. Then another. Then I’m creeping up on hour three and the bar’s jam-packed. I’m on my third basket of fries, my second order of wings, and like my tenth club soda. At this point I’m pretty sure the bartender hates me for taking up valuable real estate.
But I don’t know where Gareth is and I’m not allowed to go looking.
As I’m trying to figure out why Gareth, who typically only works with extremely rich clients, would take a meeting in a bar like this one, my phone starts buzzing. I snatch it, praying that it’s Gareth telling me to meet him somewhere nicer—or anywhere at all honestly, because I’m sick of getting the stink-eye from the bartender—but instead, it’s my landlord.
My stomach drops to my feet as I answer. “Hello?” I say, putting on my best chipper-sounding customer service voice.
Eduardo sounds harried. “Fiona? Fiona Kelleher?”
“Yes, hi, Eduardo, how are you? I’m out of town right now, but if my check didn’t clear, I’m sure—”
“No, sorry, this isn’t about rent. Wait, hold on, your check might not clear?” He grunts before I can give him the whole sad story about my paycheck being late, blah blah blah, when really, I just overspent on a new couch. Ah, simple luxuries. “Never mind, listen, this is important. There’s a problem at the building. I’m on my way over to check it out right now.”
“Problem?” I ask, confusion settling over me. “What do you mean?”
“I’m calling all the tenants to make sure they’re okay. There’s, ah, there’s a fire.”
“Fire.” I blink rapidly. The guy at my elbow frowns over like he thinks I might be talking about this death-trap. If there was a fire in this bar, the literal air would go up in flames from all the cheap alcohol floating around. “What do you mean, there’s a fire, Eduardo?”
“I’m nearly there. I’m sure it’s fine, no need to worry, but I heard—” He sucks in a sudden, harsh breath. “Holy fuckingshit,” he yells.
“Eduardo? Are you okay?”
“Holy fuck! Oh my god! It’s an inferno! Dear god, oh, the madness! I’m sorry, Fiona, I have to go. It’s bad! It’s way worse than I thought. Oh my god, the entire place is burning. Oh my god!”
“Eduardo!”
Click. The line goes dead.
I sit there in stunned silence, staring down at the quiet phone.
