A Fatal Reunion, Chapter One.
Two Years Prior...
Johnny sat against a sand-dusted boulder and pulled Carla closer to him. He shifted his legs as she snuggled up and he gently swept the powdery grit from her arms.
"Maybe I'll come out there and visit, huh? You might need me to keep all those good-looking guys off ya', right?" He lifted her chin toward him and laughed as he kissed the salty tears that slid down Carla's beautiful face. "Why the tears? I won't forget you."
"Listen, hot stuff," she sniffed, "if New York doesn't work out, I'll be back here faster than you can say 'three-alarm fire!'" She kissed him again and leaned her head against his warm, sun-kissed chest, allowing the tears to fall onto him. "I don't know why I'm crying-just nervous, I guess. I've never done anything this big before, you know?" she admitted. She rubbed at the tears that still trickled, "I'm leaving in two days, John. Once I get all my things packed up, we might have time for a little more, um, fun, huh? I'll call you, okay?" She looked up at his smile and placed her hands on his face. "Save up for a ticket to come see me."
"You're hotter than any fire, babe...you'll knock 'em dead, I know it."
She stood up and brushed her skin of the dusty remnants and pulled him to his feet. He picked up her bag and handed it to her. "Be good," he whispered.
He watched her turn and walk away from the sandy-beach picnic they'd been having, or at least had started to have. Somehow, every time they got together, it turned into a hot and sweaty romp in whatever place they happened to be, and Johnny loved every minute of it. But Carla had taken a job in New York and was leaving in two days. He'd miss her smile, her eyes and her "talents" for sure.
He sighed, "Man, there goes one gorgeous chick."
Present Day, 1974
The MVA had been a bad one, a repeat performance it seemed of the one they were called to earlier in the day: two fatalities, one drunk driver and traffic backed up for blocks. This time, however, one of the victims had been riding his bicycle when the drunk ran through the intersection without slowing, swerved to the right and jumped the sidewalk, hitting the young man and throwing him across the hood of the vehicle. He was dead before the crew arrived.
The drunk had then plowed into a power pole and was pinned inside his car. Roy and Johnny climbed into the wrecked and smoking vehicle and began to assess his wounds. Roy's hand came away from the man's leg slick with bright red blood-he was bleeding profusely from a wound they couldn't reach. Gage frowned at the man's BP and noted the low respirations and pulse. Johnny paused and locked eyes with Roy who grimaced in recognition. They knew. Roy called out for Marco to bring the pry bar and for Mike to bring the jaws, but they knew it was a long shot. Despite the efforts of the crew, extracting the man in time to save him was not to be.
They could smell the alcohol, there was even an eye witness-it was clear to everyone there what had happened and still they hated to lose a victim-even the one who had caused the accident. Sadly, Roy keyed the mic, "L.A., squad 51, request coroner at scene."
"Squad 51, L.A."
"Man, I'm telling you, Roy, people just don't wait until the weekends to start drinking anymore. Not that drinking that much is ever good, of course, but c'mon, Thursday morning?" Gage shook his head in disgust. "I just don't get it."
"I know," Roy said quietly, "that other guy was just out riding his bike. Whoever expects a drunk to be out at that time of day? What a shame."
They trudged into the kitchen behind Mike and Chet with Marco and Cap following. They scattered to whichever seats appealed to them-Chet to the sofa, Mike to the chair in front of the TV and the rest of them around the table. They were quiet and each man looked at the others, unblinking, until finally Johnny sighed loudly and slapped his palms on the table, "All right, I'll make the darn coffee!"
He got up and grumbled his way to the stove while the others chuckled. They'd perfected the famous "coffee-needs-to-be-made stare-down" and they knew Gage would fold;he did it every time.
While John measured the coffee and started the percolator, Cap reminded them of the jobs that had been left when the klaxons had gone off during roll call.
"Sorry, guys, we all have things to do that didn't get done this morning," Cap sighed. "Gage, DeSoto, you guys go do your calibration and inventory, then you can have the dayroom clean up, Chet, latrines; Stoker, dorms; Marco, you have lunch. After that, we'll all hang the hoses together-won't that be a treat!"
"Oh yeah, Cap, that sounds like fun," Chet answered, tartly.
"Yeah? Glad to hear it, Kelly; you can haul 'em up first, then. Meanwhile, I'm going to my office. Seems that mountain of paperwork did not do itself while I was gone."
Mike shoved himself out of the chair, stretched and ambled into the dorms. "Might as well get started while the coffee's brewing."
"Not me," Chet interjected, letting his head flop onto the back of the couch, "if these two accidents are any indication of how the rest of this day is going to go, I'm not getting up again until I have to."
Roy slapped John on the back. "Let's get started, Junior. If we have to restock, we'd better do it before we..."
"Don't!" Gage snapped. "Don't even say it!"
He pushed his partner through the door into the truck bay without another word.
"Coffee's ready!" Marco finally called, "Get it before it gets you!"
Mike, Roy, and John stampeded back into the kitchen, eager for a cup of the energy-sustaining brew. Chet got up from the sofa and took the mug Marco offered him. Lopez poured the last cup and, noticing that Cap hadn't yet joined them, began another pot to be sure there was plenty to go around.
The phone jangled in its cradle as Marco walked past.
"County Fire Station 51, Fireman Lopez speaking," he answered. "Yes, ma'am, he's here, just a moment, please." He covered the receiver with his palm, "Gage! Phone!" Waggling his eyebrows he added, "It's a laaaydeee!"
The heavy chair squeaked loudly as Johnny got up from the table and darted to the phone. "Gimme that!" he snorted to Marco, swiping the phone from his hand, then answered, "Fireman Gage."
Marco turned away, mumbling something about the woman's sexy voice and how nobody with a voice like that ever called him at the station. Had he listened in, he might have gotten an earful of a pretty risqué conversation.
"H-Hey! Wow, how've you been?" Johnny declared, then after just a minute, lowered his voice and turned toward the wall. He was blushing down to his toes and quietly chuckling. He chatted for nearly ten minutes, which was pretty much unheard of. Unless he was ranting about something, Johnny thought any phone conversation that lasted more than two minutes was a major drag.
When finally his call was finished, he wore a punch-drunk smile on his face and ran his hand through his hair, blowing out a heavy sigh. "Whew. Man, I haven't heard from her in ages!" he mumbled.
"Heard from who?" Roy asked as he rinsed out his coffee cup.
"Oh...uh, Carla." Johnny responded.
"Huh. Carla. Don't think I remember a Carla. When did you go out with her?"
Johnny paused before replying. "It was uh, a couple of years ago now, I guess. I never got around to introducing her to anyone here. We were, uh, you know, pretty busy."
He grinned and Roy knew exactly what Johnny meant by "pretty busy."
Johnny continued, "She left L.A. for New York when she got a job modeling. Man, she was hot! She said she's back in town after breaking it off with her boyfriend and the modeling agency. Guess things didn't work out." He grinned again and said coyly, "She wants to meet up for dinner tomorrow night…at my place."
"Right…dinner," Roy replied with only a hint of sarcasm. "Eating in, I suppose?"
Johnny's response sputtered out with a smile and he shrugged. They'd be dining in, alright; that was for certain.
The remainder of the shift was just as busy as the morning, and Chet never had a chance to ask Johnny more about his phone call. Despite the hectic shift, nothing seemed to darken Johnny's day, as he looked forward to his reunion with Carla. The paramedics responded to one near drowning, two heart cases, an asthma attack, one call for a woman who had fallen down a flight of stairs, and one for a child choking on a marble. They also accompanied the crew to a small fire in a kitchen and yet another MVA. Still, Johnny's buoyant mood stayed constant. As the shift neared its end, he was snickering to himself running all his plans for the evening around in his mind.
Oh yes, he had plans for that night! Johnny was determined to be at his best and have plenty of energy for his and Carla's "activities" so without even showering or changing from his uniform, he yelled his goodbyes and dashed out to the Rover. Roy shook his head, suppressed a snicker of his own, and as he watched Johnny leave, thought, "This ought to make for some interesting tales when he comes back next shift!"
Roy felt a light smack on his shoulder and heard Chet snarl, "Awright, spill it, Desoto. What's up with Gage?"
Chet was peeved he had missed a prime opportunity to torment Johnny and was determined to find out why, despite the crazy shift, Gage remained upbeat. In fact, Johnny had only shaken the water from his hair and grinned like a Cheshire Cat after the most recent water bomb. There had been no "CHE-ET!", no "You'll pay for this one, Kelly!"…nothing. John had an expectant grin plastered on his face ever since that call and Chet was desperate to know why.
"He has a date tonight." Roy conceded.
"I know that, Roy, I saw him turn to mush after that call, but this is way more than just a date. This is something big. I've never seen him so…so annoyingly happy!"
Roy just smiled and said, "I'm not at liberty to divulge details, Chet. You'll just have to wait for the morning after to hear about it, I guess."
Johnny smiled and sang along with the radio for the drive home, parked his Rover and practically skipped up the stairs to his apartment. He walked in and on the way to the bathroom, stripped his clothes off and dumped the dirty uniform on the closet floor. He stepped into the shower, and began to sing a Bad Company song from the new album he had purchased.
"Feel Like Makin' Loooooove…" he warbled, not caring that he was not cut out for serenading. "Haha….better not quit my day job," he laughed to himself. "Oh well, I can't be good at everything…just the important stuff."
John stepped from the shower and wrapped a towel around his trim waist. He squeezed the water from his hair and ran his fingers through it in a typical John Gage "good enough" way of styling it. He fought with the bathroom window and finally got it to open to release some of the steam. He wiped off the foggy mirror with another towel and went out to the living room to tidy things up a bit. He hadn't been home for anything more than sleep in the past two days, so there wasn't much mess to contend with he noticed, thankfully. Still, his apartment could stand an airing out.
When he began to pick up the clutter, his eye landed on the folded papers with home listings he'd been perusing. He eyeballed the ad he'd circled and smiled. For the past two weeks, he had had his eye on a little ranch with some acreage just outside of Carson. With any luck, he'd be bringing his dates back to a real home soon instead of this dumpy one-bedroom apartment. He sighed and put the paper away in the side-table drawer. Such as it was, this was home for now, so he set about making things as nice as possible before Carla arrived.
Johnny took a dust rag to the end tables and the few knick-knacks he owned. He opened the drapes, decided the windows were filthy, and closed them again rather than take the time to wash them.
"We won't be looking out the windows tonight, anyway," he chuckled to himself.
His plan was for a nap, then wake up with enough time to go out to buy some flowers and wine for Carla. He'd have dinner delivered, light some candles and with a bit of good fortune, the rest of the evening would take care of itself.
Johnny briefly wondered why Carla had come back to L.A. after being gone for nearly two years. She said things hadn't worked out, but he'd seen her success-the magazine covers, the public appearances, the notoriety. What had happened to make her want to come back to Carson? Modeling for the Eileen Ford Agency, she made more money in one year than Johnny made as a firefighter/paramedic in three. She had kept in touch with an occasional letter, telling all about the marvelous things in New York and how much she loved being there. As time went on though, the enthusiasm in the letters seemed forced somehow...like she wanted to convince herself as much as him that she had made the right decision.
Johnny asked her once in a letter back, if she was truly happy there, but she never wrote again until the beginning of the second year and by then the question was forgotten and unanswered. By that time, she had met a man named David and he loved her very much, she said. Another letter told him they were traveling the United States and Europe together, then they were engaged and then… she wrote once more saying Johnny shouldn't send any more letters-David disapproved. Johnny wrote to her just once more, telling her to remind David that she and Johnny were just friends and not a threat to their relationship, but when months went by with no reply, he gave up and found other interests to keep himself occupied. Carla became just a fond memory that brought about an occasional wicked grin.