“Please,” Gizzy said. “Please.”
Her sweetness made Tate open the door. Jack was by the wide window, with a rope looped about his waist, one end on the floor, the other end in Tate’s hands.
Tate was frowning. “We’re handling this.”
“No,” Casey said as she looked at Jack. “You’re too heavy. Gizzy will go.”
“Absolutely not!” Jack said.
Ignoring him, Casey asked Gizzy, “Can you move in those skinny jeans?”
“No.” She unzipped them.
“What the hell are you doing?” Jack spat out.
Casey knelt to unbuckle Gizzy’s tall wedge sandals. When Casey stood up, Gizzy was wearing only her pink underpants and a shirt. Her long, trim legs were bare.
Tate was standing to one side, still holding the end of the rope. He seemed to understand what the women were doing because when Casey looked at him, he stepped forward. This wasn’t a time to argue. As he looped the rope around Gizzy’s waist, he talked to her in a calm voice. “The roof is in bad shape and the old tiles are falling off. You need to step carefully. Test every tile with your foot before putting your weight on it. Understand?”
Gizzy nodded.
“Jack will keep the rope around him and he won’t let you go. If you fall, he’ll hold on
and all of us will bring you up.” Tate put his hand behind him, and Jack handed him something they’d tied together out of a bungee cord and another piece of rope. “The stunt coordinator on one of Jack’s movies made a harness like this for a scene. You need to get it around the kid, then fasten it to you. That way—”
“If I drop him, he won’t fall.”
“Yes, exactly.” Tate nodded at her. “You ready?”
“Yes,” Gizzy said.
Jack’s face was solemn as Gizzy came to him. He kissed her, then helped her out the window.
Tate was standing beside Casey. “What the hell were you thinking?” he said quietly. His calm, soothing voice was gone. “This is dangerous. She has no training. She can’t—”
“She can!” Casey said. “Gizzy can walk a tightrope, race motorcycles. Whatever. She inherited Dad’s inner bad boy.”
“Whatever that means,” Tate said.
Casey went to the open window beside Jack. He was talking Gizzy through walking on the roof. The child had lost his smile and was now clearly afraid. His mother was still below, talking to him and telling him not to move. Around her was a growing crowd of onlookers.
“Watch the pretty lady,” his mom called up to him. “She’s going to get you down, then I’m going to buy you so much ice cream you can go swimming in it. Would you like that?”
When the child twisted his body to look at Gizzy, half a dozen tiles fell to the ground and the crowd below gasped.
“Stay calm and test the tiles,” Jack said.
Gizzy stepped carefully, but she didn’t seem to be afraid.
Tate stood behind Casey, looking over her head. “She’s good. Just so she doesn’t freak when she gets to the edge.”
“She won’t. She never does. She’s helped the Summer Hill Fire Department many times.”
They all watched as Gizzy slowly made her way to the boy. Every time tiles fell, the crowd reacted loudly. Gizzy would pause and wait, then take another step. She smiled at the boy. “Hi,” she said. “Want me to get you off this roof?”
The child nodded, but when he held up his arms to her, more tiles fell down.
“His name is Stevie,” Jack said. His hands were white from gripping the rope so tightly. He was very aware that this wasn’t the movies. There were no nets a few feet away, no crane on standby.