CHAPTER SEVEN | BRADY
“Gather ‘round, boys!” my brother’s voice boomed through the brick walls of the empty vehicle bay. “It’s poker night!”
Poker night: a weekly Firehouse 56 tradition. At least it had been, back in the day, when our old man was still on the crew.
When we were growing up, Josh and I had always looked forward to Monday nights. It was the only night out of the week that our stiff-lipped, straight-laced father would undo the top button of his Firehouse 56 polo shirt, throw back a bottle of beer, and relax with the rest of the guys.
It was also one of the few occasions when Josh and I were allowed to enter the firehouse; as a reward for good behavior, our father would occasionally agree to let us tag along for Monday night poker.
Josh and I barely had hair on our upper lips, but the guys at the station treated us like we were bonafide members of the crew. We would squeeze in around a cramped makeshift poker table, and we would watch through a haze of cigar smoke and whiskey as they worked through the deck and traded wild stories.
We got a hell of an education… the kind you couldn’t get from books, or school, or even the Army. We learned about sex, love, lust, women, heartbreak, jealousy, revenge… and we also learned how to play a damn good game of poker.
Josh and I only got to tag along a handful of times, but those nights were some of the best memories I had of my father.
By the time I joined the ranks at Firehouse 56, Monday night poker had been replaced with a 65” flat-screen TV and a shiny new XBox. I guess the long-standing tradition had died out with our father’s generation. And if Josh hadn’t stepped in, it probably would have stayed that way.
When my little brother joined the crew, he made it his mission to bring poker night back to the firehouse. It hadn’t taken much coaxing to get the rest of the guys on board. And just like that, poker night was back and better than ever.
Every Monday night we would roll up the bright red garage doors, pull the engines out of the bay, set up a folding table, and gather around.
My brother would probably never admit it, but I had a hunch that poker night was a lot more than just an excuse to get together with the guys and drink whiskey on a Monday night.
“Good evening, gents,” Bryce McKinley announced as he plunked down a bottle of Old Crow on the table and took a seat in the empty chair to my left.
Bryce had only been at the station for a couple of years, but in that short span of time he had become like a brother to me. He was the definition of a self-made man; he grew up on the wrong side of the tracks and got into a little bit of trouble when he was younger, but becoming a single father changed him. He worked his ass off to take care of his little girl, and I admired the hell out of him for it.
“I see you splurged for the good stuff,” Duke grimaced, inspecting the bottle of bourbon. Leave it to Duke Williams to complain about free booze. He was from one of those old-money families who owned half of Manhattan, and he never let us forget it. The guy was a grade-A tool. And I knew a thing or two about tools; as the station’s resident mechanic, I worked with ‘em all day long.
“Hey January,” Duke turned to me. “I hope you brought a Hefty bag, because you’re going to need it to carry your ass home after I’m done handing it to you tonight.”
“I think you spend too much time thinking about what you want to do with my ass,” I smiled back. Harmless banter.
“I don’t blame him,” Logan Ford joked, slapping my shoulder as he took a seat at the table. “Hudson’s got a great ass.”
Logan and I had joined Firehouse 56 around the same time. And, just like me, he was a second-generation firefighter trying to keep his father’s legacy alive at Firehouse 56.
“Which Hudson?” Josh looked up hopefully from the deck of cards he was cutting back and forth between his hands.
“I think Duke’ll take whatever ass he can get,” Bryce grinned. He poured himself a glass of bourbon, then sat back in his chair. “Beggars can’t be choosers, right Williams?”
“You tell me, Bryce,” Duke shrugged. “Weren’t you homeless once?”
“I’d rather be living on the street, than living off of Daddy’s trust-fund money.”
Duke flicked a poker chip in Bryce’s direction. The chip landed with a splash in his bourbon glass.
“You can consider that a charitable contribution,” he winked. “My parents always taught me to help those less fortunate.”
“Simmer down, ladies,” a deep voice boomed from across the bay. We all turned to see Troy Hart strut in through the open garage doors, carrying his motorcycle helmet under one arm. “I thought this was poker night. If I knew we were playing ‘who has the biggest dick?’ I would have brought a yard stick.”
Standing over 6’7” tall and at least half as wide, Troy Hart was the only guy on the crew who could get away with claiming he needed a yardstick to measure his manhood.
He dropped into an empty chair next to Logan, then he stashed his helmet under the table.
“Sorry I’m late, boys,” he kicked one boot up onto the table and slid back in his chair. “What’s the buy-in tonight?”
“Twenty bucks,” Josh told him.
Troy palmed the chest of his leather jacket: “Shit. I forgot my wallet.” Then a devious grin spread on his face. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a bright red thong. “Can I cash in on this?”
He sling-shotted the thong onto the center of the table.
“For fucks sake, Troy,” Josh groaned. “Don’t you get enough pussy?”
“Yeah,” Bryce agreed. “Maybe you can leave some for the rest of us?”
“Shouldn’t you be saving that lecture for Hartford’s hometown hero over here?” Duke asked, nodding at me.
“Huh?”
“January made the front page of the paper yesterday,” Duke explained. Then he quoted the headline, from memory: “‘Heroic Hartford Fireman Saves Woman from Five-Alarm Fire.’”
The guys around the table erupted in a chorus of praise and jeers while I slumped a little lower in my chair.
“At least Duke has a new picture of me to pin up on his bedroom wall,” I said once the noise had died down. “Right next to my calendar spread.”
“Jesus, Brady,” Logan shook his head. “Would you get wifed up already so the rest of us can have a fighting chance?”
“Don’t hold your breath,” Josh shook his head and grinned up at me. “I don’t think my big bro is settling down anytime soon.”
I felt a pang of guilt. I had meant to sit my brother down, so I could tell him the news about Cassidy and me, man to man, but I hadn’t gotten the chance before poker night. Now he was going to hear it with the rest of the guys.
“Actually,” I said, wetting my lips with a sip of whiskey, “I’m officially off the market, boys.”
“You met someone?” Bryce asked.
“I more than met someone,” I said. “I’m getting married.”
“Fuck off, January,” Duke rolled his eyes. He thought I was joking.
“I’m serious,” I assured him. “I’m taking the plunge.”
“Why?” Troy wanted to know.
“Why not?” I shrugged my shoulders. “I’ve already done everything else there is to do with a woman.”
“Hold up,” Logan reasoned. “We’re not talking about trying anal or watching your chick give a blowjob to your college roommate. This is marriage. That’s a huge commitment!”
“I get it,” I assured him. “I just meant that I guess I’m finally ready for more. Maybe I’m ready to settle down and take the next step with someone.”
Damn. It had been one thing convincing Cassidy’s parents that I was ready for marriage, but trying to convince the guys was a completely different ball game. They didn’t know me as the wholesome boy next door… they just knew me as the guy who could melt a pair of panties with the snap of his fingers.
“I don’t believe it,” Duke shook his head. “You didn’t seem ‘ready to settle down’ last week, when you went home with those two blondes from the bar.”
Good point.
“How can you be getting married, when you were still acting single, like, a week ago?” Logan asked.
“This all happened very fast,” I said. At least that was true.
“How long have you known this girl?”
“That’s the thing,” I said. “I’ve known her all my life. We grew up together.”
“Well who is she?”
“Cassidy Laurent,” I said. “She’s the--”
“Next door neighbor,” Josh finished for me. My eyes flicked up to him, and I realized for the first time that he was the only guy who hadn’t said a word since I had dropped the bomb. His face was filled with emotions: hurt, confusion, and most of all, skepticism.
“What is this, a Nicholas Sparks book?!” Duke chuckled. Then he deepened his voice, pretending to read the synopsis of a romance novel: “‘Town hero can have any woman he wants… but he realizes that true love has been living right next door, all along…’”
“Actually, yeah,” I said defiantly, glaring at Duke. “Something like that.”
Duke shook his head, still laughing.
“Whatever, man,” he said. “I give it a month.”
“This could be legit,” Bryce said optimistically, turning to Duke. “He’s known this girl all his life. Maybe she sees a different side of him than we do.”
“Maybe,” Troy shrugged. “Or maybe it’s all bullshit, and January will be back to hitting the bars with us by the end of the summer.”
“What do you think, Josh?” Bryce asked, addressing my brother. “You know Brady best. And you must know this girl, too. Is this the real thing?”
“Yeah,” Logan echoed the sentiment. “Did you see this coming?”
Josh glanced up from the deck of cards he was shuffling. His eyes landed on me, and there was an expression on his face that I couldn’t figure out.
“Honestly?” he said finally. “I’m just as shocked as the rest of you.”