Two Days Ago
"Can't you just patch it again for me?" she asked.
"Randi, you really, really need a new set of tires."
"A set? What do you mean by 'set'? Only one tire has a hole in it."
"Tires need to replaced as sets. Either both front tires or both rear tires. Ideally, you replace all four at the same time, but at a minimum, you replace them as a set."
"Tommy, I can't afford to buy one tire let alone a set. Why can't you just patch it again?"
"Because I'm patching the patch, Randi. It's not safe. It won't hold. It's dangerous."
"Is there anything we can do? Can I work something out with you? Money is beyond tight right now."
He looked at her and all those feelings from the past came flooding back. He'd know Randi Sellers-Kelly since elementary school and had had a crush on her since the 7th grade. She'd married the best looking guy in school four years ago right after graduation which was no surprise to anyone, especially to Tommy. He'd always known she was way out of his league. She wasn't just gorgeous, she was also at least four inches taller than him only adding to his mental misery knowing he still had no chance with the girl of his dreams.
She knew how he felt and she hated knowing it still hurt him. She felt guilty asking for his help knowing he'd do anything he could for her. After the way her soon-to-be ex-husband had treated her; with everything she was going through now thanks to his gambling and drinking, she realized she might have been better off with Tommy. He'd never have treated her like that. Then again, she'd have never loved him the way he deserved to be loved so it was nothing but wishful thinking. Still....
"You know I'd do anything for you, right?" he began. "I'll tell you what. I'll patch it for you again for free IF you'll promise me you won't go on the freeway until this is replaced. Not repaired—replaced."
"Okay! I promise!" she said happily throwing her arms around him before realizing he was a greasy mess.
"No, wait. That's not enough. You have to promise me you won't drive over 45mph until you get a new tire. Randi? If this thing blows at high speed...." He looked in the back seat and saw her dog, the dog she loved like the child she'd wanted but never had and said, "You know it isn't just you right?"
"I do. I'm putting Rex at risk, too. I get it. I understand, Tommy. I really do." She was so grateful she bent down and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you so much. You've always been such a good friend."
"Yeah. That's me. Always the friend," he said wryly. "Okay. Give me half an hour and I'll have you on your way. Just keep in mind this thing could go at any time and you don't have a spare. It might last two weeks. It might last two minutes. Just please, please be careful, okay?"
She promised him she would then put her dog on a leash and took him out to go pee while her long-time friend put her car up on the hoist and repaired her bald tire—again.
Present Day Seattle Fire Station
"How's Flame doing?"
"Not so good. He's really depressed. He hasn't eaten a thing in two days."
"Is he drinking water?"
"Oh, sure. But he's not only not eating, he doesn't even want to play. And for him, that's unheard of."
"Well, Smoke was with him all day, every day for the last four years. Losing his best friend has to be tearing him up."
"Yeah, no kidding. He's been sitting up in the front seat of the fire engine Smoke always rode in all morning. Poor guy."
"Have you thought about getting another dog yet?"
"Yes and no. I know he needs a friend. I'm just not sure I can stand to see another dog go through this. Flame is seven and if I get another dog, he'll get attached to Flame and then when he goes...."
"Yeah, I hear you. Just remember that if you do get another dog, it has to be a Dalmatian," his fire captain said to him with a supportive smile.
He smiled back then said, "Of course. No self-respecting firefighter would bring anything else into the house!"
The captain looked up into engine #2 and shook his head.
"He must think Smoke's in there somewhere because he can smell his scent. Let's hope he gets over this soon. The two of them having the run of this place all that time made them just like family around here and it's hard to see any family member hurting. Even one with four legs."
"They are family, Cap'n," he replied.
"Yes they are," his captain agreed.
Clark Nichols had been a firefighter with the Seattle Fire Department since he was 19. With 16 years on the job he was one of the best and most respected firefighters in the department. He was calm, easy-going, and dependable. He was the kind of guy who got along with everyone and the one his fellow firefighters came to for advice—both professional and personal.
Even though Nichols had never been married himself, married friends opened up to him and told him things they'd never share with anyone else. He didn't have kids, either, but he was a source of endless good advice about how to help a dad get through a rough patch with a teenager who currently hated his father for setting limits and boundaries, or a dad whose young daughter was being bullied at school.
He was also one of the two best looking guys in the entire department along with a very handsome and equally popular firefighter named Terrell Robinson who happened to be black and also one of Nichols' best friends. Both had had covers on the department's annual calendar and had gone out and helped sell them to the public wearing their firefighting gear less anything but a pair of suspenders above the waist. Eight-pack abs and a ripped upper body coupled with a great smile and sexy eyes sold a lot of calendars.
It was all in a day's work for Nichols who took his job, but never himself, seriously. So when captain saw him this down, he knew that losing Smoke wasn't just some minor thing.
"Well, I'm making dinner this evening so I best get moving, Cap'n," Clark told his boss.
"No spaghetti, Superman. You've made it two out of the last three times. It was good, mind you, but a little variety would be nice!"
Superman was one of two nicknames that stuck. Being the only Clark anyone in the department knew, 'Clark Kent' also made sense. The fact that he had thick, dark hair with the same kind of curl Christopher Reeve had had, 'Superman' worked equally well.
"You got it, Cap'n!" he said laughing to himself knowing he'd just make lasagna instead. What could he say? His mother was full-blooded Italian and he'd grown up on her pasta. And judging by his body that didn't have an ounce of fat on it, no one could claim that pasta made people overweight. Overeating pasta (or anything else for that matter) made people fat—not the pasta itself.
It was his Italian side that had earned him his other nickname—'Brown Eyes'. Soon after his first calendar cover went on sale, women of varying ages had immediately fallen in love with the gorgeous fireman. The calendar people had titled his page 'Brown Eyes' and it too, stuck—at least with the women who'd seen it.
Women stood in line holding a calendar they'd just bought patiently waiting to get the bare-chested, hunky fireman to sign it for them. Most asked him to sign theirs, 'Love, Brown Eyes', and he was more than happy to do so.
The following morning, Nichols called for Flame once he'd changed and got ready to go home. It had been a long night but thankfully he hadn't been sent out on a single call, something that was a rare luxury in a city the size of Seattle. There would likely be twice the normal number of calls on his next shift, but it had been nice to have one quiet night.
Flame came slowly walking over to his owner and sniffed around the bottom of his pants before laying down beside him.
"Come on, boy. Time to go home." The Dalmatian just lay there looking up at him with those sad eyes. "Come on, buddy! Up!"
Flame slowly and reluctantly stood and followed Nicholson to his Chevy Silverado and jumped in. Just like in the engine, he sniffed around looking for signs of his late, ever-present best friend. Finding none, he whimpered then lay down next to his other best friend on the ride home.
They hadn't gone four blocks when Nicholson said, "Whoa. Hold on there."
He saw what looked to be a very attractive younger woman trying to change a flat tire. The traffic was whizzing by and she was clearly having a very difficult time. Fortunately it wasn't raining for once or her clean white shirt would have been drenched in mud thrown up from the passing cars.
