Page 5 of Firecracker

Jesus Christ, I need to get a grip.

I’m like a fucking walking time bomb ready to explode. I have so much anxiety right now that I can barely breathe. Shit, I never used to be like this. I was always the fun, carefree, ‘let's do whatever,’ kind of girl but not anymore. I’ve always depended on people, first Izzy and then Brody. Brody was always with me, never letting me out of his sight and then there was Isabella. I don’t think I’ve ever been alone.

I started stressing about Gus, Izzy’s security guard picking me up. Izzy is DJing tonight at some lounge and can’t pick me up. I shouldn’t be stressed, I’ve met Gus a couple times, but it was always with Izzy. All I can remember of him was he was really big, had an amazing Irish accent and was scary quiet. Brightside, I shouldn't have a hard time finding him. I still feel weird about it being just the two of us.

I’m so excited to see Izzy DJing in a big club this weekend. It’s been years since I’ve seen her in her element. I haven’t even been to New York yet to see where she lives. My life has been consumed with Brody and Isabella. I need my best friend.

It’s snowing in New York, so I had to go buy a new warm jacket. Izzy said she would loan me some clothes, but I still went shopping. I struggle to pull on my new big fluffy jacket and drop my bag. I didn’t want to check any luggage, so I crammed all my shit into a big purse-like bag and a small rolling carry-on.

I’m leaning down to pick up my bag when two big black steel toe boots come into my view. I look up and see a black journeyman jacket which makes me lean back. I crank my neck up even farther to see the man’s face.

“Ruby …?” His voice is a deep rumble.

I know it’s Gus instantly. Yep, that accent, so yummy.

I smile sheepishly. “Yes. How’d you know?

He smiles. “The hair.” He points to my mane of wild sandy blonde hair.

Ah. He means, ‘stuck my hand in a socket’ hair.

“Perfect. Hi, Gus,” I finish.

He tilts his head up in reply before saying, “You ready? Me boys outside waiting.”

His accent has me in a trance, so I just reply with a head nod back.

“Is that all ye got?” he asks, pointing to my rolling carryon.

Good God, he makes ‘you’ sound so cute.

Still staring at him, I throw my purse over my shoulder before saying, “Yep.”

When he leans down to grab it I try to stop him. “I can carry-” But he gives me a look, and I shut up.

He starts for the exit, only pausing a second for me to catch up. He’s wearing a big black hooded sweatshirt with a journeyman jacket over it, making his chest and arms look even more massive. Don’t even get me started on his buns of steel. The man’s a fucking giant next to me. I bet Izzy wouldn’t mind being his Jack if she could crawl up his beanstalk. I know she has a thing for him and damn he’s tall enough for her. I smile holding in my chuckle, but he just nods and turns to walk away. One of his strides is like ten of mine, so I speed up my pace.

Walking through the exit doors, the warmth of the airport slipping away while a big gust of wind almost knocks me over. Ice. Cold. Wind. Wind we don’t get in SoCal.

“Holyfuckingshitballs, it’s cold,” I sputter through clenched teeth.

Gus makes a humph noise but still not a word. I’m assuming it's his way of laughing. Freezing, I pull my hood over my head, cinching it around my neck. My hair is flying everywhere, so I try to shove it into the hood but fail horribly.

He motions toward a monstrous truck pulling up to the curb. It’s slightly lifted but completely blacked out so I can’t see the driver or anything inside. A matted gunmetal paint job and custom grill makes it look clean as fuck. I pause, not sure how I’m going to jump into this big fucker.

Gus moves toward the truck. I look around the airport noticing people dodging for cars to escape the wintery cold weather, horns are honking, and all my senses are on high alert, making me jumpy. Thank God it's not snowing right now. I close my eyes turning my face up toward the sky and say a little prayer.

I move toward the truck and when I’m a few feet away, the front door swings open with a male voice, who sounds irritated, barking from inside.

“Redman, hurry the fuck up. It’s colder than a penguin’s balls.”

Ah-huh, Redman. I can see that with all his red hair.

Gus says something to the person when he opens the cab door, throwing my carry-on into the back seat. I can’t see the driver because the truck is so goddamn tall. Horns honking all around me again has me jumping.

Gus turns around and motions for me to get in, but I look at him and then the back seat.

“How am I supposed to get in this fucking beast?”

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