Page 8 of An Ex Affair

My face collapsed into an outraged grimace, wishing I could reach through the phone and wrap my hands around her neck. Joselyn literally had no idea how insulting she was being. I’d bring it to her attention, but it would go right over her perfectly coifed head.

“But wait, it gets even better. It’s in your hometown! Isn’t that some weird twist of fate?”

That brought my attention back from ways I could kill someone from afar. “Blueball?”

“Yes!” I heard papers being shuffled and then she began listing off the duties of the job. “Make three appearances before the event, each no more than fifteen minutes. Then attend the fundraiser, introducing each firefighter. Easy peasy, baby!”

All the air in Mama’s house got sucked out in an instant. “Firefighters?”

Colson was a firefighter. In another town, thank goodness. He’d moved away from Blueball not long after I left. That I knew for sure. I’d kept tabs because I was a woman and we were the best sleuths outside of the goddamn FBI. I was a firm believer that all women should know about the goings-on of their significant exes.

“Yes, it’s for the Blueball Fire Department. The pay is terrible, but beggars can’t be choosers, babe. Since you’re back home, I’ll let them know you’re available.”

“Wait,” I interject.

“Wait for what? HGTV to call offering you a prime spot on their number one home improvement show? Come on, Tully, you know you need to take this. Get your face out there, even for a Podunk fire department, to show the world you’ve landed on your feet. We can work from there to get bigger and better gigs.”

Mama began to tap her fingers on the kitchen table, stealing my attention. I could tell she was irritated. She could probably hear Joselyn and took offense to the beggars comment. Or the Podunk comment. Hell, pretty much everything out of that woman’s mouth was offensive on some level.

But she was right. I had no other offers and needed to start from the ground up again. I’d done it once, I could do it again. At the very least, the idea of showing the studio I wasn’t wallowing (I was totally wallowing, but they didn’t need to know that) appealed greatly.

“Fine, I’ll do it, but?—”

“Great! I’ll send over the contract right now. Sign and get it back to me. They want to go over all the details in person this afternoon.” Then Joselyn hung up.

Mama cleared her throat. I held up my hand, gripping the phone in my other while I tried to process everything. “Don’t say it.”

She lifted the coffee cup to her mouth and took a long swig. Mama and I had agreed not to talk about a lot of things over the years. She didn’t care about the celebrities I’d met and I didn’t ask about her nonexistent social life. She didn’t inquire about my dating experience in Hollywood and I didn’t ask her about her continued involvement with Colson. I knew they’d been close and that he still came around for awhile after our divorce. She and I always argued about him, so for our continued relationship, we’d agreed to leave him out of the conversation. It was just better that way.

“I have to get ready.” I pushed back from the table and carried my coffee into the bathroom where I took an everything shower. When I was clean, shaved, and ready to style my hair, I took a long hard look in the mirror and asked myself a question I hadn’t asked since the day I filed for divorce and left Blueball.

“What is it you want out of life, Tully Cassio?”

My reflection held a few more lines than it did nineteen years ago, even with the facials, filler, and Botox I faithfully did in Hollywood. She looked older, yes. But also wiser. More jaded and less naïve. Like a woman who knew what she wanted and wouldn’t put up with shit on her way to get it.

Except I had no answer.

I had no idea what I wanted out of life anymore. Sadly, that was more pathetic than being fired at forty-two.

“Holy shit, I’m hallucinating!” Joey Corsi nearly dropped the hose he was wrapping up as I walked to the open bay of the fire station in downtown Blueball. “Tully Wolfe.”

The addition of my old married name made my steps falter. My smile went wider and I pulled on my years of acting experience to keep walking into the station in my high heels and deep blue business suit.

“Tully Starling, reporting for duty,” I said with a mock salute.

Joey ditched the hose he’d been using to wash the rig and came over, wrapping me in a hug I wasn’t expecting. People in LA didn’t hug like this. Air kisses and fake smiles, perhaps, but not this warm embrace for someone he used to know in high school. Joey and Colson had been best friends all through school. He’d also been the best man in our courthouse wedding.

“You’re an honest-to-God firefighter now?” I asked, pulling back and cataloging the ways in which he’d aged too. His dark hair lay in perfect curls, long on top, short on the sides. His forehead crinkled in lines as he spoke. He’d certainly filled out in the years I’d been gone, going from lanky young man to fully grown adult.

He winked at me. “Don’t know about honest, but I am a firefighter. Gabi will be so excited to see you. I had no ideayou were back.” His smile seemed to indicate he was happy to see me, which stunned me, honestly. I figured he and Gabi would hate me for leaving Colson the way I did. He looked over his shoulder. Two other firefighters stood in the open bay, watching us shamelessly. “Frank, Danny. Get over here. Meet Tully Starling.”

The two men ambled over to shake my hand. Absentmindedly, I ran through a list of about four Hollywood directors who’d love to get their hands on these men for a daytime soap opera. Big strapping muscles, granite jawlines, and swagger for days. Everyone knew firefighters were handsome, but these three men were cut from a different cloth.

“My wife is obsessed with your show.” Danny frowned. “In fact, you’re the reason I’ve had to build a she-shed on my property. Thanks for that.”

I cringed, keeping a smile intact. “Sorry, not sorry. Tell your wife she needs an accent wall next.”

Danny shook his head, grinning ruefully. “I most certainly will not.”

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