Set Fire To The Rain

Her Favorite

Noe

I couldn't get it outta my head, that night we spent together in my truck.

We were a good fuck, but something about it felt like more.

Something about her wouldn't let me forget her.

Though as much as I wanted to drop by Joe's Pizza for lunch on my downtime, and by some off-chance, run into Cassie on the way, I didn't.

I had to accept that it started out as, and always would be "just for tonight" between us, and that neither Cassie or I were ready for something more serious.

Even if we never got around to asking each other why, we could respect each other enough to draw a clear line of expectation of what we wanted.

We both had needs in the heat of the moment, agreed to meet them mutually that night, and that was it.

Besides that, she was just a month shy of turning 21, making me 17 years her senior.

Revenge sex to get back at my ex-wife was one thing. But having to explain the understandably questionable age gap between us to my family and friends was a whole other ball game of complicated I wasn't ready to play.

I kept my distance, and made myself believe I wasn't looking for more....even if it had felt that way.

Life goes on, and I moved with it.

Until vacuuming out my truck one day, I reached under the seat and pulled out a little black bag that didn't belong to me.

Inside of it I found Cassie's camera, a Blockbuster membership card, some nude lip gloss, and a sweet, brass engraved zippo lighter with the letters HKM etched into the cap.

I couldn't tell you what the letters stood for, but it looked very personal to her, and I knew she'd want it back.

Why would she leave something so valuable like a camera behind like that?

Maybe she was into me after all.

Maybe, deal or no deal...this was her way of creating an occasion?

Some escape clause to break the silence between us, in case one of us couldn't stay away anymore with this no-contact thing.

Whatever the reason, I had one more excuse to see her that I didn't have before.

I still didn't have her phone number, though, or any idea where she was staying.

I just knew she worked weekends at this photography studio on Canal street.

But as much as I wanted to rush over there to her and ask her out on a second "just for tonight", I had my own job to worry about.

It was busy at the firehouse those next few days, and I needed the overtime to pay the mortgage.

It wasn't like I had a choice but to make her wait for me to return her camera.

A week flew by before I finally got some time to drive down to the city and paid to park my truck near Cassie's studio.

I met a fellow at the reception desk, who didn't even look up at me as I walked in, too zoned out on a stack of prints he was studying to notice me.

"Hey, boss, how you doin'?" I announced my presence to him. "I'm looking for Cassie. Is she working today?"

"Who?" he hardly paid any attention to me.

"Cassie," I repeated to him. "She works here on the weekends...Is she around?"

The guy stared back at me blankly and clueless.

"Red hair. Gorgeous brown eyes...Hands down, the most beautiful eyes you've ever seen, in fact..."

His expression widened then, dropping the print in his hand and rushing around the reception desk to finally give me his undivided attention.

"Did you say Cassie? You know Cassidy?"

I wasn't sure how I was suppose to answer that, so I said, "It's complicated, kind of a long story...Anyway, I got something I've been hanging onto, and wanted to give it back to her-"

"Buddy, you gotta help me. I need to find her," he sounded suddenly desperate. "Have you seen her lately? Do you have her number by any chance? Please tell me you know where she lives."

My shoulders stiffened.

Something within me going primal and protective as I stared back at this guy, trying to figure out what the deal between him and Cassie was all about.

"Why you so thirsty, boss?" I turned serious on him.

In hindsight, I didn't know then that this was the asshole she called Charlie, and that he was her editor.

At the time, I didn't know who the fuck this guy was and why he sounded so mad keen on finding my girl.

"I need her," he told me. "I want her back."

"Heh," I muttered. "Get on line, pal."

"Look at this, look at this," he beckoned me back over to the reception desk with his stack of photo prints.

I immediately spotted my profile in a grayscale photograph, casually leaning against the lockers of our firehouse gear room with a row of black-yellow helmets and turnout coats hanging up behind me. My head bowing down over my navy blue FDNY T-shirt and hands resting in the pockets of a pair of relaxed fit GAP jeans.

On the ground looking up at me with big pouty dark eyes was Riley's beagle, Penny, who sat like an absolute doll through the whole shoot, waiting for that belly rub I'd promised her after it.

Cassie's favorite shot.

It wasn't the only photo I found of me in the stack.

Unbeknownst to me during her ride-along, the locker photo I posed for wasn't the only shot Cass had taken of me. Besides catching some wicked shots of fire in action on scenes, I realized I was a frequent subject in a good stack of her photographs.

And, considering the circumstances of where that night ended up for us, she'd had enough foresight to not catch me looking directly at the camera in any of them. Including that one she snapped of me in my backseat, where only one of my eyes could be spotted through my index and middle finger, when I pushed the camera away so she couldn't hide from me anymore.

"If I don't get that girl back, I lose this GAP contract," Charlie bemoaned his dilemma. "If you see her around, can you give her that message?"

"Why don't you tell her yourself?" I said to him.

"I would've, if she hadn't quit yesterday."

"What?"

It was the last thing I expected to hear.

"What do you mean she quit?"

"Yeah, something about me not paying her enough, being sick of all the 'sexism'. Said she could do it better on her own now," Charlie bemoaned.

"Any idea where she might've gone?" I asked him.

"Your guess is as good as mine, buddy," he sighed, done with the conversation as he turned to walk away from me, mourning his losses and licking his wounds, "A whole goddamn contract down the drain....Jesus."