Just One of the Guys(51)

“I don’t want to be normal,” he says, sounding much like one of his toddler grandchildren on a sulk. “I’m a firefighter.”

I pause. “What’s it like, Dad? Saving someone, I mean.”

He shifts to look at me but doesn’t say anything for a minute. “It’s quite a rush,” he admits, reaching over to pet my dog. “When everything comes together and everyone does their job and you actually make a grab, it’s pretty amazing.”

I try to imagine it. To save someone’s life, to rescue someone from danger, just to help…to be the one who did things right, instead of the one who freaked out and dropped the bag. “I wish I could do something like that,” I say in a near whisper. “Save someone.” I look my dad in the eye. “To be more like you and the boys.”

Dad rolls his eyes. “Anyway. Back to your mother.”

Of course. “Back to your retirement, you mean,” I say, taking a swig of beer.

Dad scowls, looking a lot like Dylan. “I don’t want to retire just yet. That’s all there is to it.”

“You don’t want to be divorced, either. You don’t want your wife to be with someone else.”

“She won’t really go the distance with that guy,” Dad says, oozing alpha-male confidence. “She’s just trying to teach me a lesson. To torture me, Chastity. It’s the essence of marriage.” He leans back in his chair and scrubs his face with his hand. “Speaking of firefighters and their crappy marriages, have you spoken to Mark? He’s wound tighter than a piano wire these days.”

“I know. He and Elaina are practicing the essence of marriage, apparently. Lots of good torture back and forth.”

Dad groans, and Buttercup echoes him. “Well, shit. So what else is new, Porkchop?”

My legs are losing blood flow under Buttercup, so I wrestle myself free, get up and start folding my father’s shirts. “Well, I’m seeing someone. Sort of. We just started dating.”

“So you can be miserable just like the rest of us?”

“Yup. That’s always been my goal.”

“He’s not a firefighter, is he?” Dad asks, scowling.

“No, Dad,” I say with exaggerated patience. “No firefighter would dare date your little angel baby, okay? He’s a surgeon.”

“Well, good for you, Chastity. A doctor! Nice.”

I roll my eyes.

“You know what I mean.” Dad stands also, comes over and gives me a hug. “Hey, look,” he announces, “a gray! You have a gray hair.” He tugs on a strand, then moves in to separate the gray hair from the normal blacks. “Quite a few, actually.”

I swat his hand away. “Gosh, thanks, Pop. They’re probably from you and Mom and all your bickering.” He grins. “I have to go. You have a good night.”

“Keep an eye out on your mother, okay? Let me know about this Harry.”

“No. I’m not playing Spy vs. Spy for you and Mom. Besides, you said it yourself. She’s just torturing you. And if you make me pick, I’ll pick Mom. Seventeen hours of hard labor, remember?”

“Of course I remember. I was there. Best day of my life.”

“I love you, Dad,” kissing his cheek. “And no more Jameson’s, okay? One’s your limit.”

“Yeah, yeah. I love you, too, Porkchop,” he says. “Don’t worry about your mother and me. We’ll be fine. We love each other. And I’m not drinking too much, either.”

“Glad to hear it.” I grab my coat and Buttercup’s leash, clip it to her collar and begin hauling her off the couch. She doesn’t deign to open her eyes, just pretends I’m not there.

“Is that dog still alive?”

“I think so,” I answer. Buttercup finally topples off the couch with a thud and blinks sorrowfully. Since she refuses to stand, I have to slip my arm around her shoulders and try to encourage her into a standing position. With great reluctance, she finally acquiesces.

Dad opens the door for me. “Be careful. You want me to walk you home? Or ask Trevor. He lives just down the block.”

“I’m fine, Daddy. See you around.”

He waves. “Keep me up to speed on the doctor. Way to go, honey.” He closes the door, still smiling.

Walking down the stairs, I try not to be irritated with my father. He’s old school, after all, and marrying a doctor used to mean a lot back in his day. Back when doctors made more than plumbers and women quit their jobs upon the conception of their first baby. Still, it rankles a little. Twice tonight, I’ve been congratulated on the accomplishment of dating a doctor. Big deal. Maybe he’s the one who should be congratulated on being with me. Didn’t anyone ever think about that?

“Settle down,” I tell myself. Buttercup’s tail lashes against my thigh. “Sorry, honey,” I tell her. “I’m just…I don’t know.”

I walk down the block, right past Trevor’s building, and I’m not even going out of my way. So it’s only natural that I look up at his windows, just like I do to everyone else’s, right? And sure enough, there’s someone standing in front of the window of the fourth floor. Someone blond. Someone like Angela. Or possibly Perfect Hayden. Clearly, Trevor likes blond women.