Page 18 of The Alpha: Part One
We have one twenty-four hour shift at the station before the fights Lopez has us down for this week. The most exciting thing that happens is getting a call to get a kid's head freed from between the bars on a balcony. That's the third kid to get their head stuck this month. I know kids do silly shit, but I don't remember a single instance of the fire department being called to pry a kid's head free from anything when we were kids. We did other stupid stuff, like starting an actual fire that one time, but none of us ever got stuck anywhere.
"Are kids just dumber than they used to be?" Sometimes it's like Michael can hear my thoughts. It's probably the twin thing.
"Probably," I laugh. "Did Desie text you back yet?"
Desie is working a forty-eight hour shift at the hospital. In theory, working twenty-four or fourty-eight hours in a row is supposed to give you more off time, but I think it would be better if she worked a regular nine-hour shift five days a week. It worries me when she doesn't text us back for hours and hours. Now with the added stress of the Flores pack being interested in her, I'm a nervous wreck. Which makes it even better that all we had to do is take care of that kid. I would have been a distracted liability if we had to go on an actual call.
He checks his phone. "No, but she's alright. She'd let us know if she wasn't. Come on, let's go home. We need to sleep before tonight. Maybe we can swing by and take Desie some dinner before we head over to the Backhouse."
Desie asks us to bring her that big-ass sandwich from Joe’s that she likes so much- salami, ham, lettuce, tomato, red onion, jalapeno, banana peppers, mayo, and four days of heartburn smashed neatly into the center of a garlic roll. No surprise, it's her go-to take-out order. We sit in the hospital cafeteria to eat with her like we've done a hundred times, but there's a tightness to it this time. We were on borrowed time before, but now it feels like a noose.
"What are you guys going to do tonight?" Desie asks between bites.
Michael doesn't miss a beat. "We might go watch a fight." We don't like stretching the truth like that, but if she knew how often we were actually doing the fighting, she might kill us. She doesn't even like the idea of us watching them.
"I hope you're not placing bets." She says, completely serious. "I don't care what the potential pay-out is, if you don't have the money to cover the loss, it isn't worth it. It's awful betting on those poor guys getting beat up, anyway."
That's another thing we haven't told her the full story of. She doesn't know what we owe or who we owe it to. All she knows is that we lost a few bets when we were younger and we had to pay them off. She has no idea that Flores paid off the mortgage so we could keep our parent's house. Then he paid off the loans our dad and uncles took out when Mom got sick. Then the cancer took her, and Dad couldn’t live without her. We know Dad loved us, he just couldn’t survive without her; and we get it. I wouldn’t last a month if anything happened to Desie and Michael would be right there with me, and that’swithouta proper bond. At the time, we thought Flores was doing it to save us, to help us, but now we know the truth.
"No, D, we didn't place any bets. We're just going to the fight. You're off work in the morning, right?" Michael says, wording it in such a way that it isn't technically a lie. An omission still doesn't make a truth, though.
Her eyes narrow and her mouth draws to one side, "yes. I am. Please stay out of trouble tonight. And don't find your third at a fight, if you can help it."
"At this point, I'll pluck him off the sidewalk if he feels right," I tell her. "We should go to the beach in the next couple weeks."
Her mouth tightens as she moves her attention to me. "Why are you trying to distract me? What do I need to be paying attention to?"
"Nothing, Des," I smile, "I just know how much you like the beach. I want to go with you before the fires start. That's all." I don't mention the noose swinging over us, or the fact that she's going to go into her next heat right before the fire season starts.
A sour look pinches her face. "I didn't want to think about the fires."
Michael takes her hand and lifts it to place a kiss on her palm. "I know, baby. But we've had a lot of rain this year. They won't be as bad as they could be. We should go to the beach. I'll get you a new swimsuit to wear."
Desie laughs and cups Michael's cheek. "No, absolutely not. I don't want to wear what amounts to dental floss and a couple knee patches. I can just wear one of the ones I already have, thank you. We can go next week, if you want."
"The white one," Michael says, and Desie rolls her eyes.
"Do us a favor, though, okay?" I ask.
"What do you need?
"Don't go to anything unless we can be there. We don't trust the Flores pack."
"No, we do not," she agrees. "I didn't want to go, anyway."
She has to go back to work, and we leave for the Backhouse. On the way there, I get a text from Seth Pratchett.
Are we going to the next event? Minos just asked me if I was going to attend.
We. He asked if we were attending, not if me and Michael were going, but all three of us. It might be my stupid optimism trying to kill me with hope, but it feels good that he asked like that, no matter the reason.
"Seth just asked about the next meet and greet."
Michael glances away from the road. "Why?"
"I don't know. Maybe he's just trying to be helpful. What should I tell him?"
"The truth. Tell him we aren't going."
