Up in Flames

  I’d worked at Le Crepe’erie most of my life in some capacity. That’s the way it is with a family business. As a grade schooler, I used to sort and sharpen crayons into baskets for the guests that came to dine with kids. As a middle schooler, I’d helped plant the flowers in the overwhelming number of hanging baskets and window baskets every spring. Le Crepe’erie had won “Best Floral Display” ten years running and my dad took almost as much pride in this as he did the quality products he put into each crepe. Since I’d turned sixteen, I’d been serving tables. I was even known to whip together a recipe or two when the chef was fresh out of new ideas.

  You would have thought a crepe shop in the middle of small town USA wouldn’t be likely to succeed, but Le Crepe’erie had been in business for over fifteen years now and was an icon in Winthrop. Known for its basic menu that changed every day, there was rarely an empty table on the weekends or evenings on the weekdays. There were two options on any given day: sweet or savory. That was it. We didn’t do pancakes, waffles, or French toast. We did crepes.

  You couldn’t get an egg over easy or a slab of ham on the side.

  I’ll repeat. We did crepes.

  But we made darn good ones.

  Guests did have a selection of drinks, so long as it was coffee. We did drip, espresso, cappuccino, or the occasional latte if the customer was real nice.

  Crepes and coffee were like a religion here at Le Crepe’erie and you didn’t just come into someone’s church and order hash-browns without it being considered a sacrilege.

  “How’d you do tonight?” Dani asked me from two tables down where she was bussing a table.

  The last guests were just leaving for the night, so I locked the door and flipped the closed sign over behind them. “Pretty good,” I replied. “Fifty bucks or so.”

  “Day-um, girl!” she said, running back to the kitchen to crank on the radio. “My little Bs only pulled in a little over thirty. I need to get myself over to Seattle, have a plastic surgeon hook me up, and start making fifty a shift.” She came back out into the dining room, dancing to the song on the radio. “Do you think I could consider a boob job a business write-off if it helps me make more money?”

  I took a long sip of my coffee before grabbing a bussing cart. There was a nice mess ahead of me. “Why don’t you ask the working girls down at Dolly’s Gentlemen’s Club? I’m sure they’d know,” I said, crumpling up a napkin and tossing it down at Dani where she twirled on a bar stool. “And mine are real, thank you very much.”

  “Yeah, a real waste of space since no one’s having any fun with them,” she said, tossing the napkin back at me. My mind flashed with the memory of Cole looking at me, gaping at me, and my stomach did another one of those coiling up things.

  “Yours get enough action for both of us,” I threw back as I sprayed down a few tables with disinfectant.

  “Come on, though. Has Logan cupped, tweaked, squeezed, or hell, even grazed them yet?”

  I grumbled as I started wiping down the tables. Dani had been my best friend since second grade. We weren’t exactly an obvious best friend match. Dani was vivacious, cursed more than she talked, and had slept with most of Winthrop’s male population that was under twenty . . . twice. She was short, blonde, and stylish. I was more your wallflower type that strived to stay inside our society’s boundaries. A cuss word in my book was crap or ass if I was really worked up, and I still had my V card firmly in hand. I was tall, brunette, and wore what was comfortable.

  I couldn’t pinpoint what had brought us together and kept us together all these years, but I told everyone Dani was my kindred spirit. On the surface, we were nothing alike, but everything that couldn’t be seen tied us together.

  “He grazed them this past year at Winter Formal,” I said, sounding defensive.

  “Accidentally?”

  “Does it matter?” I asked while I tossed coffee cups and plates onto the cart.

  “Yes.” Dani swung off of the bar stool and marched my way. “Yes, it most certainly does matter. You and Logan have been together for over two years and the only thing you’ve done is kiss. That is not normal.” Dani was a few inches shorter than me, but she had a way of seeming taller when she looked at me the way she was now.

  “Says the girl who lost her virginity when she was thirteen,” I muttered.

  She grabbed a dish rag and swatted my butt with it. “That’s because I was the smart one. Why do you want to waste the most virile, wild years of your life keeping your knees closed?”

  “We’re waiting for marriage,” I replied automatically, but that was Logan’s reason, not mine.

  I wouldn’t have had a problem going all the way with a guy if we weren’t married, but I had a few obstacles in my deflowering way. I was with Logan, and I probably always would be. He wanted to wait until we were married. I might have pushed the issue, but even the making out had gotten a little boring this past year. If a guy sliding his tongue into my mouth couldn’t turn me on, why should I assume him sliding anything else inside me would?

  “God. Don’t even get me started on you two and your impending marriage and abstaining until that blessed day shit,” she said, helping me clear off the next table.

  “I didn’t ask you to get started on any of it, Dani,” I said. “So why don’t you drop it?”

  She made a face while she considered this before shrugging. “What are you doing tonight after work? Logan’s out of town at a game, right?”

  “Yeah, he left this afternoon and will be back on Sunday,” I said. “And what do I always do on a Friday night?” It was a rhetorical question. As a general rule of thumb, Dad opened the restaurant and I closed it.

  “Close this place down,” she said, spraying down a few more tables. I was confused as I watched her scrub the tables. Dani was my best friend and all, but she wasn’t scheduled to close tonight. Normally I’d be lucky if I could flip that closed sign before Dani was clocked out and running out of the place. “What if I said I’d help you get this place cleaned and closed earlier than usual so you could go out and have a good time with me before your dad even knew you were late?”

  “I’d say you’re up to something,” I said, rolling the cart of dirty dishes into the back.

  “I am up to something,” she hollered at me over the radio. “Trying to show my best friend a good time this summer. Trying to show her what she’s going to be missing out on if she gets married a few short months after graduating high school. Trying to show her the way a man should want to play with those fun bags.”

  I rolled my eyes as I loaded a tray for the dishwasher. Dani had invited me to plenty of parties in our years together and the only ones I’d said yes to were her birthday parties. I’d even started missing those over the past few years because they’d been more a study in hedonism than happy birthday.

  I’d always said no. So why, tonight, did I feel like a yes was on the tip of my tongue?

  I was pretty sure my answer had something to do with a certain Cole Carson and that stomach thing he made me feel whenever I thought about him.

  “Where’s the party at?” I said, not needing clarification as to what it was. Dani didn’t do slumber parties or cosmic bowling on a Friday night. She danced on table tops and drank Smirnoff like it was going out of production.

  Dani’s head popped into the back, her brown eyes bugged out. So she was as shocked as I was that I was actually thinking about this.

  “The clearing on old man Shanigan’s property,” she said, helping me load the next tray for the dishwasher. “It’s the summer kick-off party and everyone’s going to be there.”

  “Everyone?” I said sarcastically, sliding the first tray into the washer and closing the door. “I just graduated a few days ago with ‘everyone’. I don’t want to see them tapping kegs and dry humping against trees on old man Shanigan’s.”

  “Not all the dip-shits we went to school with,” she said. “I mean, sure they’ll all be there, but when I say everyone, I mean everyo
ne as in the smokejumpers.”

  How Dani could make the words smoke and jumper sound as filthy as she could was a true talent.

  I groaned as I prepared to load the second tray. “Dani, the only thing that sounds like less of a good time than hanging out with all the same people we grew up with would be hanging out with a bunch of guys who think a local is something you put your penis in.”

  Dani’s eyes bugged again. Given her eyes were already large for her face, the effect was rather funny. “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard the word penis come from that sweet little mouth you’ve never had wrapped around one before,” she giggled as she helped me stack the clean dishes. “This is as wild as I’ll ever get you, Elle. I’m not taking a no tonight. You’re coming. You’ll drink a beer. Or two. You’ll have a good time. Maybe even get felt up by one of those raving sexaholic smokejumper sinners.” The glare I shot her only made her smile wider. “And then one day, when you’re lying next to Logan in bed, wondering how he failed to pleasure you yet again with his cock or his tongue, you can have happy thoughts about that one night you let your hair down.”

  I cringed. “Two things. Don’t ever mention Logan’s . . .”

  “Cock,” Dani assisted, winking at me.

  I nodded. “Logan’s c-word or tongue again.”

  “Oh, hell, Elle. How can you and I be such good friends and you can’t even manage to say the word cock?” she said, looking almost offended. “Cock has to be my second favorite four letter word.”

  “I wonder what the first is,” I said, nudging her as I headed back into the dining room. Paul, the chef, was just finishing up his closing duties for the night, and thanks to Dani’s help, we weren’t far behind.

  “Yeah, but it’s my first favorite because of the action, not the descriptor.”

  “I’m all finished up here,” Paul called from the kitchen. “I’ll catch you ladies tomorrow night.”

  “Good night, Paul,” I said, waving after him.

  “And that’s exactly the kind of night I have planned for you.” Dani shouldered up beside me and nudged me.

  I wasn’t sure why, although I was sure I’d regret it later, but I nodded. “Let me grab my things and get closed up.”

  Dani clucked her tongue and grabbed one rogue dishcloth and gave my butt another smack. “The point of tonight is to get opened up, Elle.”

  I’d just told my dad a bold faced lie over the phone about staying late at the cafe to do inventory. I’d answered Logan’s What are you up to text with Not much besides missing you and I was en route to a booze and bonfire party in the backwoods.

  That streak of wild I tried to keep a lid on had officially burst free.

  “So your dad bought your story?” Dani asked me as we headed for old man Shanigan’s in my Jeep.

  “Yeah. He bought it,” I said with a sigh.

  I felt lousy for lying to Dad, but even lousier because I knew he’d never doubt me. I’d never given him a reason to. I’d never stepped one toe out of line my whole life, at least as far as Dad knew. He’d probably feel differently if he knew about the summer skinny dipping breaks or the time I’d drunk a half bottle of fruity red wine from Dani’s mom’s liquor cabinet.

  “You are so lucky you’ve only got one member of the gestapo to patrol you. Dad and mom finally gave up—mostly—when I turned eighteen, but it was a real bitch trying to sneak out with one patrolling the front door and the other at the back.”

  I kept my eyes focused on the road. “Yeah. I’m so lucky,” I said.

  The Jeep got really quiet for a few seconds.

  “Oh, God,” Dani said, grabbing my arm. “Elle, I’m sorry. I’ve got the biggest mouth and I don’t think before I speak and . . . shit, I’m so, so sorry.”

  “It’s okay, Dani,” I said, keeping my voice flat. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it.” To distract myself, I fumbled with the stereo, changing stations until I found a good, thumping song that would make it hard to carry on a conversation.

  I knew Dani hadn’t meant to hurt me, but it had. My mom died when I was four, just a couple years after she and dad had turned their dream of being restaurant owners into a reality. I was young when mom died, so it was surprising how much I could remember of her. It wasn’t so much play-by-play scenes, but images. Like my young mind had snapped photographs of her and seared them into my mind.

  She was a vivacious, spirited woman who had smile lines before she’d turned thirty and the same hazel colored eyes as me. She was always up for an adventure and believed nature provided the best terrain for the best kind of adventures. My dad had told me I’d spent more time in a hiking backpack than a stroller and learned to ski before I could ride a bike.

  “Holy shit. I can see the bonfire from here,” Dani said, pointing at a glowing orb up ahead. “This is going to be one epic party. I can feel it in my bones.”

  I lowered the volume on the radio. “I’m having second thoughts,” I said. “Do you think if I drop you off someone would give you a ride home? Someone who isn’t trashed? Because I really think I just need to go home and—”

  “And what?” Dani interrupted. “Watch ‘I Love Lucy’ reruns while you stuff your face with marshmallows and try and fail to long for your safe, non-frisking boyfriend?”

  Some days it was easy to remember why I loved Dani. This day wasn’t one. “Okay, I don’t even know where to start with that whole spiel, but—”

  “So don’t even try because nothing you can say will convince me otherwise. You’re going to the party and that’s final,” she said, pointing me up a potholed road. “I cannot allow you to go to your grave without at least one night you don’t regret. Consider tonight to be hopefully the first of many nights of no regret.”

  I parked my Jeep on the outskirts of dozens of cars. I could already hear the hooting and hollering. “And how many nights do you regret?” I shot her a look as I stepped out of the Jeep.

  Dani came around front and weaved her arm through mine. “Not a single one,” she said as she steered me in the opposite direction of where I wanted to run right now.

  “This is a bad idea,” I said, noticing all the familiar cars. The cars of people who would recognize me. Both Logan and my dad would know where I’d been tonight come tomorrow afternoon. “Every single person is going to recognize me and be more than happy to tell on the good girl going bad one night.”

  “Two things. One, everyone in this town loves you. Even the raging partiers up there. No one’s going to say anything about you being here tonight. Besides, even if they didn’t like you, there’s a party code of conduct rule that you don’t blab to anyone about who was and wasn’t at a party,” she said, continuing to tug me ahead. “And two, everyone’s going to be so drunk no one will even remember you were here.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I asked, zipping up my jacket before sliding on my gloves. The days might have been unseasonably warm, but the nights still required bundling up.

  “Okay, since you’re so worried about people recognizing you and actually caring you’re living one night like an eighteen year old should,”—Dani weaved in front of me and stopped me in my tracks—“I’ve got an easy solution to this. Take your hair out of that damn ponytail,” she said, tugging on my hair tie. Sheets of hair fell down my back as she wove her fingers through it, teasing and tousling until she was satisfied. “Put on a little makeup . . .” Pulling out a few tubes from her coat pocket, Dani went to work on my face. She was finished before I knew what hit me. “And voila, you’re my cousin from out-of-town who’s here to spend a couple weeks partying it up in central Washington with me.” Dani gave my hair a few last tweaks before grabbing a hold of my arm and steering me towards the party. “Oh, and your name’s Savannah and you’re from South Carolina.”

  “Shouldn’t I have an accent if I’m from South Carolina?” This bad idea had just gone from marginally to entirely.

  “Yep.” She patted my arm as we stepped into the clear
ing. “Good luck with that.”

  Dani had been right; the bonfire was ginormous. It was easily as tall and wide as my Jeep and I could feel the heat rolling off of it from twenty feet back. Dozens of people milled around, red cup in hand, mainly congregating close to one of the six kegs stationed around the clearing. As expected, almost the entire high school student body was present and accounted for, although there was a group of young men whose faces weren’t familiar.

  I didn’t need two guesses to know who they were. If the flock of girls batting their lashes around them didn’t give it away, that wildness in their eyes did. All smokejumpers I’d come across had it. That wild, adventurous twinkle that never seemed to dim. They came every summer. Some were the same as the year before, but a handful were new faces. I suppose that was part of the appeal of the lifestyle: getting to roam from place to and see some of the most beautiful parts of the country from fifteen hundred feet.

  As if parachuting out of low flying aircraft wasn’t extreme enough, the smokejumpers did it close to raging forest fires. If there was an award for most dangerous, deadly, and adrenaline pumping career, smokejumping would have won by a landslide.

  “That can’t be Elle Montgomery,” a voice said from off to the side. “At a party? A party with alcohol on private property?”

  I elbowed Dani as Derrick Davenport ambled our way. Derrick had played football in high school and was heading to U of W in the fall. Derrick was friends with Logan, not best friends, but close enough to make me sweat.

  “And here I thought I was Savannah from South Carolina,” I said, totally hacking up a southern accent. “So much for everyone being too drunk to notice me.” I shot Dani a glare as Derrick stopped in front of us.

  “Where’s the Mr.?” Derrick asked, peering over my shoulders.

  “He’s out of town for baseball,” I said as another one of the guys who’d been on the football team showed up with two empty red cups in hand.