The Beau & the Belle
Page 48
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“Oh god. No, no, no!”
I touch the door handle like they teach you in elementary school, and when I find that it’s not hot, I whip open the door and spot the source of the fire right away: my oven.
Smoke billows out of it and I cough, grabbing for a tea towel to cover my nose and mouth. Random, distorted fire safety rules leap to mind: STOP, DROP, COLLABORATE AND LISTEN. I should run from my apartment, but I’m too stubborn. Besides, the fire isn’t that bad. I know exactly where the fire extinguisher is underneath my sink, though I’ve never used it. I curse and read the instructions as quickly as possible. The fire gets a teensy bit worse and I wonder if the lamb is still in any way edible. In a move I can only describe as heroic, I pull the pin from the nozzle, aim the nozzle at the flames, and squeeze the lever slowly, just like the instructions describe. When the flames are gone, I reach forward and turn the oven off with my tea towel.
I DID IT!
I’m heaving in big gulps of air. My head feels light. My smoke alarm is still blaring. I turn and realize my apartment is filled with smoke so thick I can’t see more than a few feet in front of me.
Fists start pounding on my door. I’m standing on a chair, aiming the end of a broom at the smoke alarm when firemen come bursting through the door.
“NOFD! Stay calm!”
I drop the broom and put my hands in the air like I’m under arrest.
There are three of them—tall and muscly, ready to toss me over their shoulders and carry me to safety. They all look like they could be extras on Chicago Fire. I regret saving myself. I should have let my apartment burn.
“Ma’am! Are you all right?”
Before I answer, I’m hoisted off the chair by one of them while the other two assess the situation.
“It’s not safe for you to stay in here.”
I bob from side to side as he carries me outside and drops me on the sidewalk. He doesn’t listen to me when I tell him the fire has been extinguished. “It was just in the oven! I put it out!”
He asks me if I have someone I can call. I tell him I could if only I had my cell phone. While I’m at it, I would also appreciate some shoes.
“We can’t let you go back in there just yet, ma’am,” he says, propping his hands on his hips and sneaking a quick glance down before going red-cheeked and turning away. I follow the direction his gaze took and realize with a start that I’m still wearing my robe with my skimpy lingerie set underneath. I can see the faint hint of black lace. I gather the lapels between my hands and close them, making sure the belt is double-knotted. A little gust of wind rushes up the skirt, and I realize I’m in a bit of a pickle.
He radios to one of his buddies to bring me out my purse.
“Maybe some jeans too! And shoes!”
One of the firemen comes rushing out with my purse and two brown mismatched boots. The heels have a height difference of an inch. No clothes—great. Apparently they’re too busy evacuating people from the building to worry about whether or not I have a t-shirt. Yes, that’s right: my entire apartment complex (all 16 units) has to be evacuated due to the fire alarm. It’s part of the city’s fire codes. All my neighbors—Cranky Mabel, Silent Paul, Brussels Sprouts Gina—trail out of the building, moaning about having their evenings interrupted.
“I was just in the middle of making—” Gina says.
“Brussels sprouts, I know.”
She’s nothing if not predictable.
I wave at Cranky Mabel when she passes me.
She offers me a shrewd glare. “Tell me you didn’t start this.”
“Well yes, technically. Sorry about that! Ha ha, that’s what I get for trying to roast lamb chops!”
No one thinks I’m funny or charming. I wonder what their nickname is for me.
We can’t go back in until they’ve reached a satisfactory conclusion as to the source of the fire. I keep trying to shout at them about what happened, but they’re very busy doing fireman things. They apparently have protocols they have to follow and a whole checklist of things that need to be…well, checked. It’s freezing out, and I’m shivering and standing alone on the sidewalk when Beau walks up.
I don’t notice him until he’s right beside me, looking up at my apartment complex like everyone else.
“What’s going on?”
In all the panic, I forgot I was expecting him.
“Beau!” I point at the fire truck. “Can you believe it? Firemen!”
I sound like an excited four-year-old.
He frowns. “Did someone pull the fire alarm by accident?”
“Oh, no. Funny thing, actually.” I laugh like this is all one big misunderstanding. “There actually was a fire in the building, but—”
Cranky Mabel snorts. “Her fire! Ask her how it started!”
I make a mental note to sign Mabel up for a bunch of junk mail the first chance I get.
“The fire was in your apartment?” Beau asks, slipping off his coat to offer it to me. “Why are you wearing a robe out here? And what’s with the boots?”
I wanted to start tonight on an even playing field. I was supposed to greet him at the door in a slinky dress with a red rose between my teeth. I’d have a drink ready for him, bourbon or something equally dark and sexy, a drink that says, Here’s some liquor, now come and lick-her. His coat would slip off his shoulders. I’d tell him what we’re having for dinner and he’d moisten his lips in anticipation. It smells divine, he’d say. Then I’d delight him with witty anecdotes about my day, and all the while he’d be watching me with a look that said, How have I managed to ensnare this vivacious vixen?
As it is, I’m currently standing out on the street corner in a terrycloth robe and crazy boots. My carefully crafted waves are likely tousled from being toted around like a sack of potatoes. I smell like I just bathed in a BBQ pit; he smells like he showered in a majestic waterfall surrounded by breezy pines. Worse, he came straight from work. I hate his impeccable style more than ever.
“My oven caught fire.” I point one steely eye at my cantankerous neighbor. “As it turns out, you’re supposed to brown for 10 minutes then lower the temperature for the rest of the cooking time, but it really could have happened to anyone.”
“Are you okay?” Beau asks, spinning me in a circle like he’s looking for damage. Wind flaps the ends of my robe and I tighten my grip so he can’t see what’s hidden underneath.
I nod. “Yes, fine. It wasn’t bad, really.”
He repositions his coat on my shoulders, but my fluffy robe makes it impossible to button.
“All right, everyone!” one of the firemen shouts, trying to get our attention. “We’re giving the complex an all-clear! You’re all free to re-enter the building. Please make sure your fire extinguishers are in working order and familiarize yourself with evacuation routes. Will the woman in unit 212 step forward please?”
I flinch as all eyes turn to me.
Surely they aren’t going to chastise me in front of everyone. It was an accident!
I hang my head as I walk closer. The tallest of the firemen meets me halfway. He’s cute, young—the one who lifted me off the chair and carried me downstairs. I realize with a little smile that he’s about the same size as Beau. With them on either side of me, the entire sky is nearly blotted out. If I were a plant, I’d shrivel up and die.
“Ma’am, your quick thinking likely saved this entire complex from being burned to the ground.”
WHOA. Not what I was expecting.
“Have you used a fire extinguisher before?”
“Never.”
He smiles wide. “Well you handled it like a pro.”
HEAR THAT, MABEL?!
I bloom under his praise. I think I’ll sell NOLA and travel the country teaching fire safety to our nation’s youth. Photos of Smokey the Bear will be replaced with my heavily filtered headshot. From now on people will feel compelled to thank the troops, first responders, and Lauren LeBlanc.
I’m so lost in the possibilities, I don’t catch the conversation taking place between Beau and the fireman until Beau asks me if I want to stay at his place.
Well that escalated quickly.
I touch the door handle like they teach you in elementary school, and when I find that it’s not hot, I whip open the door and spot the source of the fire right away: my oven.
Smoke billows out of it and I cough, grabbing for a tea towel to cover my nose and mouth. Random, distorted fire safety rules leap to mind: STOP, DROP, COLLABORATE AND LISTEN. I should run from my apartment, but I’m too stubborn. Besides, the fire isn’t that bad. I know exactly where the fire extinguisher is underneath my sink, though I’ve never used it. I curse and read the instructions as quickly as possible. The fire gets a teensy bit worse and I wonder if the lamb is still in any way edible. In a move I can only describe as heroic, I pull the pin from the nozzle, aim the nozzle at the flames, and squeeze the lever slowly, just like the instructions describe. When the flames are gone, I reach forward and turn the oven off with my tea towel.
I DID IT!
I’m heaving in big gulps of air. My head feels light. My smoke alarm is still blaring. I turn and realize my apartment is filled with smoke so thick I can’t see more than a few feet in front of me.
Fists start pounding on my door. I’m standing on a chair, aiming the end of a broom at the smoke alarm when firemen come bursting through the door.
“NOFD! Stay calm!”
I drop the broom and put my hands in the air like I’m under arrest.
There are three of them—tall and muscly, ready to toss me over their shoulders and carry me to safety. They all look like they could be extras on Chicago Fire. I regret saving myself. I should have let my apartment burn.
“Ma’am! Are you all right?”
Before I answer, I’m hoisted off the chair by one of them while the other two assess the situation.
“It’s not safe for you to stay in here.”
I bob from side to side as he carries me outside and drops me on the sidewalk. He doesn’t listen to me when I tell him the fire has been extinguished. “It was just in the oven! I put it out!”
He asks me if I have someone I can call. I tell him I could if only I had my cell phone. While I’m at it, I would also appreciate some shoes.
“We can’t let you go back in there just yet, ma’am,” he says, propping his hands on his hips and sneaking a quick glance down before going red-cheeked and turning away. I follow the direction his gaze took and realize with a start that I’m still wearing my robe with my skimpy lingerie set underneath. I can see the faint hint of black lace. I gather the lapels between my hands and close them, making sure the belt is double-knotted. A little gust of wind rushes up the skirt, and I realize I’m in a bit of a pickle.
He radios to one of his buddies to bring me out my purse.
“Maybe some jeans too! And shoes!”
One of the firemen comes rushing out with my purse and two brown mismatched boots. The heels have a height difference of an inch. No clothes—great. Apparently they’re too busy evacuating people from the building to worry about whether or not I have a t-shirt. Yes, that’s right: my entire apartment complex (all 16 units) has to be evacuated due to the fire alarm. It’s part of the city’s fire codes. All my neighbors—Cranky Mabel, Silent Paul, Brussels Sprouts Gina—trail out of the building, moaning about having their evenings interrupted.
“I was just in the middle of making—” Gina says.
“Brussels sprouts, I know.”
She’s nothing if not predictable.
I wave at Cranky Mabel when she passes me.
She offers me a shrewd glare. “Tell me you didn’t start this.”
“Well yes, technically. Sorry about that! Ha ha, that’s what I get for trying to roast lamb chops!”
No one thinks I’m funny or charming. I wonder what their nickname is for me.
We can’t go back in until they’ve reached a satisfactory conclusion as to the source of the fire. I keep trying to shout at them about what happened, but they’re very busy doing fireman things. They apparently have protocols they have to follow and a whole checklist of things that need to be…well, checked. It’s freezing out, and I’m shivering and standing alone on the sidewalk when Beau walks up.
I don’t notice him until he’s right beside me, looking up at my apartment complex like everyone else.
“What’s going on?”
In all the panic, I forgot I was expecting him.
“Beau!” I point at the fire truck. “Can you believe it? Firemen!”
I sound like an excited four-year-old.
He frowns. “Did someone pull the fire alarm by accident?”
“Oh, no. Funny thing, actually.” I laugh like this is all one big misunderstanding. “There actually was a fire in the building, but—”
Cranky Mabel snorts. “Her fire! Ask her how it started!”
I make a mental note to sign Mabel up for a bunch of junk mail the first chance I get.
“The fire was in your apartment?” Beau asks, slipping off his coat to offer it to me. “Why are you wearing a robe out here? And what’s with the boots?”
I wanted to start tonight on an even playing field. I was supposed to greet him at the door in a slinky dress with a red rose between my teeth. I’d have a drink ready for him, bourbon or something equally dark and sexy, a drink that says, Here’s some liquor, now come and lick-her. His coat would slip off his shoulders. I’d tell him what we’re having for dinner and he’d moisten his lips in anticipation. It smells divine, he’d say. Then I’d delight him with witty anecdotes about my day, and all the while he’d be watching me with a look that said, How have I managed to ensnare this vivacious vixen?
As it is, I’m currently standing out on the street corner in a terrycloth robe and crazy boots. My carefully crafted waves are likely tousled from being toted around like a sack of potatoes. I smell like I just bathed in a BBQ pit; he smells like he showered in a majestic waterfall surrounded by breezy pines. Worse, he came straight from work. I hate his impeccable style more than ever.
“My oven caught fire.” I point one steely eye at my cantankerous neighbor. “As it turns out, you’re supposed to brown for 10 minutes then lower the temperature for the rest of the cooking time, but it really could have happened to anyone.”
“Are you okay?” Beau asks, spinning me in a circle like he’s looking for damage. Wind flaps the ends of my robe and I tighten my grip so he can’t see what’s hidden underneath.
I nod. “Yes, fine. It wasn’t bad, really.”
He repositions his coat on my shoulders, but my fluffy robe makes it impossible to button.
“All right, everyone!” one of the firemen shouts, trying to get our attention. “We’re giving the complex an all-clear! You’re all free to re-enter the building. Please make sure your fire extinguishers are in working order and familiarize yourself with evacuation routes. Will the woman in unit 212 step forward please?”
I flinch as all eyes turn to me.
Surely they aren’t going to chastise me in front of everyone. It was an accident!
I hang my head as I walk closer. The tallest of the firemen meets me halfway. He’s cute, young—the one who lifted me off the chair and carried me downstairs. I realize with a little smile that he’s about the same size as Beau. With them on either side of me, the entire sky is nearly blotted out. If I were a plant, I’d shrivel up and die.
“Ma’am, your quick thinking likely saved this entire complex from being burned to the ground.”
WHOA. Not what I was expecting.
“Have you used a fire extinguisher before?”
“Never.”
He smiles wide. “Well you handled it like a pro.”
HEAR THAT, MABEL?!
I bloom under his praise. I think I’ll sell NOLA and travel the country teaching fire safety to our nation’s youth. Photos of Smokey the Bear will be replaced with my heavily filtered headshot. From now on people will feel compelled to thank the troops, first responders, and Lauren LeBlanc.
I’m so lost in the possibilities, I don’t catch the conversation taking place between Beau and the fireman until Beau asks me if I want to stay at his place.
Well that escalated quickly.
