Daring Devotion (8 page)

Dwight knew he'd been headed down the road to destruction all those years ago. He'd party away the weekend, not much caring what the next day would bring. So, many nights when he'd finally find his way home and fall into bed close to dawn, it was without thought of the next day. Quite frankly, he didn't care if he woke up or not. He just couldn't find the point.

Eight years ago, after a weekend spent in his usual manner, he'd staggered back to his small studio apartment and collapsed, but something strange happened that night. He awoke to find his deceased grandmother sitting on the side of the bed, watching him with loving eyes.

Dwight had rubbed and rubbed his eyes, not believing what he was seeing. He told himself he was just dreaming, but she seemed so real, he could actually feel the soft skin of her hand when she reached down and touched his face.

Dwight had loved his grandmother more than any human being he'd ever known, and most of his family believed she was the only person he'd ever listened to. In those precious minutes, she talked to him in the same scratchy voice he remembered so well. She made him promise her that he would return to church, and when she disappeared from the room, Dwight fell back on the bed and cried like a baby. Just the way he cried when he'd first lost her.

The next Sunday morning, he cleaned himself up and went back to his childhood church home, which he had not visited in years. He sat down on the only open seat in the back of the church. The young lady sitting next to him scooted over to make room, and he squeezed in. She turned and smiled at him, and Dwight felt something in his stomach do a flip. Eight years later, and her smile could still cause that reaction.

Most of the guys on his engine team never knew
that
Dwight—he'd only joined the team six years ago. But Dina remembered the long, hard road to his salvation, and for what she'd given him, Dwight thought, he could well indulge her.

So, when she'd put her dainty little foot down and insisted he cancel Cal's party, it had taken everything in him to stand up to her. Cal was his boy—he wasn't about to let him go out without a righteous celebration.

Dina's eyes had widened at the refusal, so unaccustomed to hearing the word
no
come out of his mouth. Then her beautiful brown eyes had narrowed. “We'll see about that!” she stated and then stormed away. Nothing else had been said about it. Of course, he was still sleeping in the guest room when he was off rotation, but it was worth it to send Cal out in style.

Tommy greeted him at the door, and took the tray of drinks. “Is everybody here?” Dwight asked Tommy, hearing Kanye West's “Gold Digger” coming from the other room.

“Everybody but the guest of honor. By the way, it's not a surprise—he knows.”

Dwight shrugged with little concern. They had planned out this whole thing where Cavanaugh would pick him up and bring him by Tommy's under some false pretense. But quite frankly, Dwight had been more concerned about the quality of the strippers he'd hired than the surprise element of the party.

A married man for more than seven years, he was well settled in his chains, but he had to admit this party was as much for him as Cal.

“Food?” Dwight asked.

“Already here. Don't worry, man, you did good. Everything is going smooth as silk.”

Dwight moved into the other room, greeting those of their team members who were off duty tonight. He'd tried to schedule the party on a weekend when most of the guys Cal was close to were available.

A short, stockily built man came forward to greet Dwight, and Dwight's eyes lit up at the special surprise he was certain Cal did not know about. “Steve, how was your flight?”

Steve Brown, Cal's little brother, smiled with tired eyes. “Long, but I wouldn't have missed this for the world.”

Dwight took the man through the small group, introducing him to everyone he had not already met. Laughing and talking, Dwight suddenly realized that although he saw these guys every day, they very rarely were able to socialize in this manner.

Tommy popped his head in the door. “Cal and Cavanaugh are here,” he whispered and darted back out of the room.

Someone turned off the stereo, and the room got very quiet. They heard Tommy talking to someone, then Cavanaugh's voice, followed by Cal's.

Cavanaugh was the first to appear in the doorway. “Forget it, everybody—he knows.” There were a few murmured disappointments, and this was what Cal came around the corner to.

Cal laughed. “But thanks for the thought!”

Just then, Steve stepped out from where he'd been standing behind the door. “Bet I'm still a surprise.”

Cal spun around, recognizing his brother's voice. “Steve!” He clasped the man in a bear hug. “What the hell you doing here, man?”

“Suffocating,” he choked out, before his brother set him back on his feet.

With a big, cheesy grin Cal just took him in head to toe. He hadn't realized how much he missed his only sibling who lived on the other side of the world. Growing up, the two had been inseparable, and his presence was sorely missed in Cal's life.

Soon, the music came back up, and everyone crowded in to offer their congratulations.

Dwight shoved a framed picture of Andrea into his arms laughing, and waving his hands to get everyone's attention. “Now Cal, tonight you may
see
some things…”

Cal just smiled and shook his head at the antics of his friends. A round of hoots followed the statement, everyone was thinking of the entertainment planned for later that evening.

“And Cal,” Dwight continued, “you may
feel
some things…”

The group exploded again, and Dwight made a motion to settle them down. “But no matter what you may see and feel tonight, this—” he pointed to the picture “—is to remind you to keep your perspective. Be strong, my bro…”

Cal cocked an eyebrow in silent warning.

And Dwight couldn't finish his statement for the laughter in his voice. After he regained his control, he patted his large friend on the shoulder. “Welcome to the club of the happily married.”

“Hear! Hear!” Cavanaugh held his soda can up at the back of the group.

Spontaneously, the group began chanting “Andrea! Andrea! Andrea!”

Cal just waved them away, and went in search of something to drink, the laughter following him out of the room.

S
ometime later, groups had broken off to do pretty much what they did at the firehouse when waiting for a call. Some were playing cards, some playing Tommy's Xbox 360, and many others just sitting around and talking.

Steve was telling Dwight about his excavation in South Africa, and Dwight was struggling to appear interested.

Cal chuckled to himself. His little brother was passionate about his work as an archaeologist, but very few others found it fascinating. He shifted the curtain preparing to step out onto Tommy's balcony, but he paused when he heard his name. “I don't think Cal's fit for duty any longer.” He recognized the voice of Jeff Collins.
What was he doing here?

“That's a hell of a thing to say about someone you barely know.” Cal could hear the anger in Tommy's voice.

“Don't get me wrong. It's just a feeling. I've had it since the day he
lost it
on that staircase, but lately it's like it's intensified a hundred times. I've seen the same thing happen to other firefighters, and afterwards they are never the same. I'm just afraid they are going to put him back on duty and put us all in jeopardy.”

“He seemed fine tonight.”

“Yeah, well, that's today. What about tomorrow? Are you willing to put your neck on the line with a chief you're unsure of?”

“If that chief is Big Cal, anyday, anytime. And you got a lot of nerve saying this, Jeff, you just got here a few months ago.”

“No offense intended,” Jeff said in his most soothing tones, and Cal knew he was trying to settle Tommy's ruffled feathers. “It's just an observation, and I'm entitled to my opinion.”

Suddenly, the curtain shifted as Jeff prepared to step through and found himself standing only inches from Cal. His beady eyes widened as much as they could, and his mouth fell open.

Cal just stared at the man. Neither had ever mentioned the incident that occurred in the kitchen of the firehouse. Cal had expected Jeff to report him, but he never did. Without a spoken word, they appeared to have agreed to pretend it didn't happen. This was probably why, Cal assumed, Jeff had been invited. After all, no one was aware that they despised each other.

Because of that, Cal tried very hard to ignore the man. But as soon as he was reinstated, his first plan of action was to get rid of Jeff Collins.

He watched as Jeff's eyes glanced back over his shoulder, and then without another word Jeff went to move around him. Cal was tempted to block his path and confront him, but instead he just stood still as Jeff pushed his way past.

Cal stepped out on the balcony and went to stand next to Tommy who was looking out over the city without showing any indication that he'd overheard the conversation. The noise and music coming from inside the apartment was just a bunch of garbled noises.

Tommy glanced to his side. “What's up?”

“Nice crib,” Cal answered.

“It won't be when they get through with it.” He nodded over his shoulder.

“So, when are the strippers supposed to get here?” Cal tried to make small talk to keep from asking the questions he really wanted to ask.

“Any minute now, according to Dwight.”

Just then, someone called through the curtain. “Hey, Tommy, someone's at the door, I think it's the girls.”

“Be right there.” Tommy turned to leave, then paused. “Hey Cal…”

“Yeah?”

“Watch your back with Jeff.”

Cal stiffened, wondering if more was said than what he'd overheard. “Why do you say that?”

Tommy started to say something then stopped. “Just trust me when I say he's up to no good.” He turned and headed back into the apartment.

Cal stood alone on the balcony for a while, contemplating everything that had happened in the past few weeks. Some part of him had not wanted to come here tonight, unsure of how his coworkers would see him after the last fire and his suspension. But everyone had greeted him with slaps on the back and genuine admiration in their eyes.

When he reentered the apartment, the guys were clearing away the card tables, and opening up the middle of the floor. There was an excitement and anticipation in the air that Cal just couldn't manage to work up himself. He could give a few smiles and laughs, but genuine pleasure was something that was eluding him lately.

“Is it the girls?” someone asked excitedly, seeing Tommy reenter the room alone and with a slightly befuddled expression on his face.

“Um, yeah,” Tommy answered evasively, working his way around the room to Dwight. “Dwight, can I talk to you for a moment?”

Cal came up behind the two men with their heads huddled together.

“Where exactly did you find these dancers?” Tommy was asking Dwight.

“The phone book under exotic dancers. Why?”

Tommy twisted his mouth. “I don't know, but something about them just doesn't seem…
exotic enough
.”

Dwight frowned in disappointment. “Damn. They're ugly, aren't they?”

“No, no,” Tommy answered quickly. “They are all quite lovely, it's just…well, for one, they are all dressed in different colored tights.”

“Tights?” Cal and Dwight's baritone voices together brought almost every head in the room around.

“Tights?” Dwight whispered, still not quite understanding. “What is that? A fancy name for a G-string?”

“I didn't see anything resembling a G-string.”

The crowd behind them was beginning to grumble impatiently. “Bring on the booty shakers!” someone called from across the room. Soon the chant was taken up and the whole room was vibrating with energy and anticipation.

Dwight sighed. “Well, whatever they are dressed in we better let them come on out before we have a riot up in here.”

“Your call,” Tommy said with a shrug and headed back to inform the girls.

Dwight put up his hands. “All right, everyone, settle down. The show is about to begin. But understand me, fellows.” His voice dropped all humor. “These young women
will be
treated with respect. Am I making myself clear?” The statement was followed by murmured agreement.

Cal touched him on the shoulder. “Dwight, can I say something?”

Dwight stepped aside to give him the floor. “I would just like to say I really appreciate all of this.” He gestured to the room at large. “And all you guys for doing this for me. I know things have been a little strained lately, but I just wanted you all to know how much I appreciate all your support!” He let his eyes flash across Jeff's face, and the man quickly looked away.

Suddenly, there was a loud boom coming from the stereo, as the dancers' music began. The boom was followed by a soft string instrumental. The guys settled down and waited for the show to begin.

Finally, a flowing, colorful line of five women entered, dressed head to toe in colored leotards, the tight bun hairstyle identical on each head. They danced across the floor like a line of ballerinas entering the stage, each carried a scarf that they used for different positioning.

They stopped suddenly, and took up different positions, one lifting her leg around her neck, another doing a full body split, two others forming the letter
K
and the fifth stepping off to the side and reciting poetry.

Within five minutes of the performance, they'd managed to leave their audience speechless.

“What the hell is this?” someone whined into the silence, and because of the silence the statement seemed even harsher.

The girls stopped and turned startled eyes on their host, and Dwight stepped forward scratching his chin. Probably the only one in the room with any idea of what was going on, and even he was not sure. He needed to have it confirmed.

“Ladies, are you by any chance from a company called Midnight Rendezvous?”

The poet spoke for the group. “No, we're from Words in Motion, an interpretive dance company.”

Dwight nodded as his first suspicion was confirmed. “And who hired you?”

They each looked one to the other. “Um, our agent set it up.”

“I see, I see.” He clapped his hands together in one hard slap, already contemplating the various ways of getting back at his wife. “Thank you ladies, you can go now.”

With one final glance at the dumbfounded group, the poet, who seemed to be the leader, took their CD from the stereo and started out of the room. The others followed quietly.

“Okay, what just happened?” someone blurted out.

“I don't know, but those were definitely not booty shakers.”

“Come on Dwight, you promised us a show.”

In the midst of what was quickly becoming a mob mentality, a burst of deep, rumbling laughter stopped everyone. They all turned to see Cal curled on his side, laughing so hard he seemed to be having trouble breathing.

Dwight came to stand over his trembling form. “Have you lost your mind?'

Cal looked up at Dwight. “You promised me a bachelor party I would not soon forget, and man, did you deliver on the promise.”

Unable to resist his good humor, Dwight shook his head and smiled. “I am a man of my word.”

Finally, getting the laughter under control, Cal sat up. “Thanks, man, you don't know how much I needed this.”

Realizing there would be no exotic dancers, the groups went back to their previous activities, playing cards until they found a good game on TV. The party didn't break up until well into the morning and everyone left satisfied that they'd given Cal an
almost
perfect send-off.