Page 103 of Living with Fire

Jordan’s face fills the screen. I blink. Red lipstick. Dark make-up lined eyes. Her hair down and in waves from what I can tell in the picture. It’s the way she looks when she’s headed out for a night on the town, not a night serving at the bar.

“Hi sweetie,” my mom greets Jordan.

My sister smiles and waves, but says nothing. Possibly because she couldn’t hear my mom with the noise of an obvious party going on around her. Behind her, the lights of wherever she is are dimmed, music blasting through the speakers. Suddenly, the phone erupts with a new sound, this of an entire crowd erupting in cheers and screams.

“Where the hell are you? Aren’t you working the bar?” I question, irritation creeping into my veins. It isn’t Jordan’s fault Savanna is in the hospital and I’m not there looking after the bar, but I can’t help feeling aggravated that she isn’t helping after she told me she would.

Not that it matters. I’m—we—are going to lose the thing anyway. Maybe Jordan’s already figured that out and decided to say the hell with it. I can’t blame her. She’s not attached to it like I always have been.

My mom pats my arm, and I’m not sure if it’s to soothe me, or quiet me. She says, “Just watch.”

With a frown, I glance down at her. Her own eyes are focused on her phone, refusing to meet mine, and when she suddenly smiles, I look back to the device.

And can’t breathe.

Jordan has turned her camera around, revealing her location. It’s 10-42, but it’s…so different. The place has transformed since I was there the night before Savanna was taken. Though I can’t see the entirety of it, I can see enough.

Tables have been shifted, moved out of the way to make room for a stage. A stage, I realize, that Liam had been working to construct for the last two weeks. It no longer looks like a barren piece of lumber against the far wall of the bar. Black fabric hangs from the front of it, garlands of streamers hung from it. Three large vases of flowers I don’t know the names of sit perched on the floor while bunches of balloons line the side of the stage. Hanging from the wall is a banner that looks all too familiar.

10-42

Save A Fire Truck, Date A Firefighter AUCTION

Liam stands on the stage in a suit—a fucking suit—grinning devilishly at the audience, a mic in his hand. The music quiets and I can hear Liam’s voice over the speakers like I’m standing in the bar with them. “Next up, we’ve got Station Nine’s very own Brody James. Personally, ladies, he’s my favorite. Besides myself, of course.”

Brody. The same Brody that I told to cancel the entire auction. The same Brody who said “over my dead body” would he participate in this. Brody who is striding up the stairs, and across the stage like he owns the whole fucking thing. Completely shirtless with jeans hanging low on his hips. Full of more confidence than Liam has on a daily basis.

Jesus. How many drinks did Liam feed him before this? It’s the only explanation.

“What the hell is happening?” I breathe into the room, to my mom, to Savanna, to whoever wants to answer the question. No one does.

The auction was supposed to be canceled. Everyone knew it. Once I gave my answer to Brody, everyone knew. Liam confirmed it this afternoon when I talked to him. And yet…

“Brody may look like a beast, but let me tell you, he’s a gentle giant. Quiet and reserved, this man enjoys surfing and long walks on the beach, ladies.” Liam pats our friend on the shoulder. “Let’s start the bidding off at one hundred dollars. Do I have a hundred?”

I can hear several cheers through the crowd, a couple of signs lifting in the air, and then like he was born to be an auctioneer, Liam begins working the crowd, the bids going higher and higher. With each new offer that comes in, Liam races around the stage pointing out what I can only assume are the different bidders. Brody stands in the middle, flexing a muscle in his arm or showing off his abs, and again I wonder how many drinks must be in him for the man to let go of so many inhibitions.

“Nine-thousand-nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine dollars,” says a woman’s voice so loudly that there’s no doubt it came from someone at Jordan’s side.

A silence falls over the crowd. Even Liam pauses, mid-point, his eyes scanning over everyone. Brody smiles. My breath catches in my throat. My mom, beside me, hums in appreciation. As though she knew it was coming. I’d look at her, but I can’t take my eyes off the phone. Not when Jordan is turning the angle, showing me the person beside her.

My grandmother stands there with an auction paddle raised high in the air and repeats herself, “Nine-thousand-nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine dollars.”

Finally I look at my mom, my mouth gaping, trying to wrap my head around what’s going on. The auction… Without my knowledge, they went ahead and did it anyway, even though I told them not to. Because they knew. Knew I needed it to happen, but knew I couldn’t deal with it myself.

My chest fills with emotion thicker than mud. My throat closes with the same feeling. For the second time tonight, I find my eyes wet, but with witnesses this time, I press my thumb and forefinger into the corner of my eyes to try and pinch it away.

“For him?” Liam’s astonished voice booms through the speaker, causing both my mom and me to laugh. I’m grateful for the comedic relief.

I’m positive I hear Brody faintly say, “Asshole.” When there are immediately a few laughs within the crowd I know I’m correct.

“Yes, Liam,” my grandmother says, exasperation showing in her tone and the way her paddle holding hand finds her hip. “For Brody. I prefer the quiet ones.”

“It’s always the quiet ones!” Liam exclaims.

Jordan moves the camera back to the stage. Liam is shaking his head in disbelief, but Brody… Brody is standing there like a proud peacock with a fanned out tail. It clicks into place for me then. He agreed to get on stage because he already knew who would bid on him and there would be no chance of being outbid. My eyes slowly turn back to my mom, narrowing slightly as I work it all out in my mind.

“You knew,” I accuse her. Not in malice but in awe. I’m in awe of it all.

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