First

Fate sealed, I return my attention to Jennifer. She didn’t even notice my distraction.

‘The only downside of getting cast in this play is that I wouldn’t be able to visit Peter for months.’ She pouts, a movement which only serves to show off her plump lips. ‘I don’t know if I could handle that.’

Peter is Jennifer’s sugar daddy. He’s about forty, owns his own cable company, and is a nice guy. He fell for her hook, line, and sinker. If they’re still together though, a few months later, maybe the feeling’s not just on his side.

‘I didn’t know you were still together,’ I say.

She giggles. ‘That’s because we didn’t get to hang out at the cast party. He flew in from Miami to be there. Not that I can blame you for missing him though. You were a little distracted.’

My cheeks flush.

‘Who was that cute guy you hooked up with, anyway? He definitely wasn’t another college boy.’

‘No, he’s not.’

Jennifer gives a deep sigh. ‘Give me an older man any day. Sometimes the sex drive isn’t as strong, but what he lacks in stamina he makes up for in skill.’ Her wink is meant to be conspiratorial and I don’t have the heart to tell her Jake doesn’t have problems with stamina or skill.

Although, if I can’t make things right with him, it’s not like I’ll have anything but memories of those facts.

‘Was it a one-night thing?’ Jennifer presses.

I’m saved from answering by the phone going off. But it’s not the text alert

.

‘Sorry,’ I tell Jennifer, who waves off my apology.

The caller ID is a surprise. Why in the world would Dallas Miller call me?

‘Dallas, is everything okay?’

‘No.’

***

The ear-splitting shriek of my PASS has to be a sign I’m in hell. There’s no way that noise could exist in heaven.

Cold water drips steadily on my bare head. My helmet’s gone and my head rests on a soggy piece of wood. Inch by inch, I flex my muscles, trying to take inventory of my body.

My worst fear vanishes when I wiggle my toes. I’m not paralysed. No matter what, I’m already fortunate. Feet are complaining in my boots. Left ankle twinges a bit, but doesn’t feel broken. No immediate pain from the legs. My hips hurt, but when I shift, they stop twisting in a strange direction and that ache subsides. My back is sore, like I’ve been used as a punching bag. Arms wobbly, hands stiff and bruised. Next big worry is the neck. I tentatively turn my head, knowing any medics who find me would just as soon kill me for risking further injury, but there’s no discomfort. If anything actually hurts with that sharp, distracting pain, it’s my head.

My radio is going crazy. Calls of ‘Mayday! Fireman down!’ echo around me, still audible despite the roar of the fire overhead.

That’s a weird place for a fire to be. I tilt my head up and stare into a hole that’s quickly being swallowed by red and orange flame. Far overhead, there’s a glimmer of the sky.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I fell through the roof into the … What is this place?

Again, a slow glance around. Boxes, some old bikes, washing machine and dryer. It’s definitely the basement. I should radio where I am. Warn Nelson to get off the damn roof before it kills one of us.

Between the alarm and the flames, my head wants to split open. I take a breath, forcing down the nausea, and lift my arm. The muscles are shaky, probably from hitting shit as I fell, but I manage to grasp my radio and alert the rest of the crew, ‘Jacobs. Fell into the basement. Get Nelson off the fucking roof.’

I remove my finger from the button and close my eyes for just a second, trying to recollect myself.

I think it was a second. But the crashes near the basement door that alert me my brothers are on their way come faster than I expected. The door splinters under their attention and three masks work their way towards me.

I manage a weak grin. ‘Took you long enough.’

‘You dumb motherfucker,’ Ty spits as he pushes debris away from me. ‘Falling through the fucking roof and giving us all fucking heart attacks. Fucking Jeff is about to keel over.’ His lecture continues, the F-word featuring prominently in his shock and fear. I lose track after it begins to take the place of basic words like ‘the’ or ‘and.’ Instead, I focus on trying to get up.