The Men of CLE-FD updated Read online

“I’m almost done. All I have to do is spray it and put a bandage on it.” Her back was facing away from the street traffic as she worked on his arm.

  “Orlando, who is this woman and what in the hell is she doing to you?”

  The raspy voice of a woman stopped Regan from what she was doing. She turned her body half-way around to see who the interloper was. She looked up to meet the eyes of a very angry-looking black woman.

  Regan twisted her lips and answered before Orlando had a chance. “Who I am is none of your business and what does it look like I’m doing?” She said rolling her head in a circle.

  The dark-skinned woman with big gold hoop earrings wearing a bright yellow mini sundress did not seem pleased by Regan’s answer. Regan could tell by the way her body was poised and her icy stare; she had riled her.

  The woman was not a typical woman Regan was used to dealing with in her social circles. And, she would probably get her ass kicked in a heartbeat if she pushed her buttons. Still, she refused to relent because the woman had hoodlum written on her forehead. Hell, she wasn’t a suburbanite. She grew up on the lower east side of Cleveland. Although she had never fought or been affiliated with gangs, she had seen her share of fights and knew one or two gang members growing up.

  As Regan rose slowly to stand straight, the woman had not changed her hard attitude as air filled her jaws. Regan licked her lips and stood next to Orlando taking his hand. Seductively, she nestled her body against him. Her ample breasts pressed against the muscle of his arm. “Sweetheart, is this your lovely ex-wife you were telling me about?”

  Orlando spoke lowly from a bent corner of his mouth. “Wha’cha doing?”

  Regan ran her hand up and down his bare arm purposely irritating the woman whose glare could burn a hole through her soul. “I’m being nice. Aren’t you going to introduce me?” She sang flicking his chin with the tip of a finger.

  “I’d rather not but since you insist, sweetheart; I will,” he said with a fake but convincing look of affection on his face. “Maggie this is Regan.”

  Maggie grimaced. “Since when are you dating and where did you meet the bubbly tart—I’m sorry, I mean her?”

  Regan patted his chest feeling those defined ripples against her fingers and remembering what her eyes had feasted on previously. “Baby, please let me do the honors.”

  He frowned flipping his hand in response to Maggie’s demand. “I’m not telling her anything. She has a man to monitor; who you are is none of her business. Are you ready to eat? I’m hungry.”

  “Sure, but after breakfast we’re going shopping.” Regan’s heart raced with the ruse they were putting on. She didn’t like deceiving people, but this woman didn’t know her and jumped to conclusions about her status with Orlando.

  She wanted to melt on the spot when he removed the designer sunglasses perched atop her head and placed them over her eyes. “Baby, today I’m all yours.”

  “Mm, then maybe we should skip the minor stuff and go home,” she said making sure to cut her eyes at a seething Maggie.

  *****

  “Hold up!” Maggie yelled placing her hand in the air.

  Orlando put his arm around Regan’s bare waist waiting to escort her by a riled Maggie.

  The rainbow-colored sleeveless tank exposed a portion of her firm stomach. The denim shorts showed off her curvy legs. Instead of heels, she wore wedged strappy sandals. Her toes were painted the same color as her fingernails—a pale pink.

  If he were dating, Regan might be perfect for him since she was into physical fitness. A physically fit woman was a check-mark in his book. He was physically active and a woman would have to be in excellent physical shape to keep up with him.

  Rock-climbing, biking and swimming were activities where he excelled. Because of his athletic abilities, the fire department asked, and he agreed to participate and be the team leader in an upcoming charity event. Sponsors backing him promised to donate a large sum of money to The American Red Cross if his team competed against other teams of firefighters from around the city in the race up 42 floors or the 804 steps of Terminal Tower, also known as the Gray Lady. He pledged he could do it in full fire gear and break the record.

  Orlando let the palm of his hand linger on the warmth of Regan’s lower back. The heat of the sun kissed the exposed area of her body causing his body temperature to rise. Throngs of arousal cause his penis to push against the zipper of his jeans. “We gotta go, Maggie. Save your bitching for the next time we meet,” he said, fighting desperately to keep his mind from entering the gutter zone.

  He wondered what type of underwear Regan wore under those shorts. He favored thongs on a woman with a firm plump butt. It drove him crazy to watch her strut around teasing him in nothing but sleek high heels and a sexy thong.

  Maggie’s voice echoed as she threw a public tantrum. “What about my car?”

  “Yeah, it did sound pretty bad. You should get it seen about soon,” he said tilting his shoulder inward to avoid bumping into her as he passed by.

  His long stride through the parking lot caused Regan to double-step to keep up. “Can you slow down, please? I had my workout this morning,” she said puffing.

  He squeezed his hand tighter on her waist. “Is she following us?”

  “She’ll need roller skates as fast as you’re walking.”

  He laughed slowing to a comfortable walking pace. “Nah, she would whip out her broom and hop on that.”

  “I owe you an apology.”

  “Why are you apologizing now?”

  “You accused me of assuming you caused your divorce. I had. God as my witness, I now understand why you have anger lacing your aura.”

  “It takes two to ruin a marriage. I won’t blame it entirely on Maggie.”

  “That is only true half of the time.” Not expounding on the comment, Regan removed car keys from the pocket of her shorts. “Well, the coast is clear of your ex-wife, and my car is parked on the other side of the gym. It was nice bumping into you, Orlando. Of course, I’m not including the bump that knocked you down the steps.”

  He took hold of her elbow. “Wait, you aren’t leaving are you?”

  “Um, yes. We pissed off the ex and now I’m going on about my day,” she said figuring their scheme was over; apparently, he had other ideas.

  “What about breakfast? You’re gonna blow me off just like that?” He had a way of positioning his eyes to hold a pleading look that women found hard to resist back in the day. He hoped he still had it.

  “Orlando, I don’t expect you to take me to breakfast for fooling your ex-wife.”

  “I’m not doing that. It would be my pleasure to take you to breakfast as a friend.”

  She jingled the car keys in her hand contemplating. “Okay. I’d be delighted to have breakfast with my new friend.”

  They were standing behind his car in the smoldering heat. He hit the chirp to unlock the metallic cherry-red Mustang with the custom-made drop top. “Cool. We’ll leave your car here and take mine—if that is okay with you?”

  “Long as I get it before they lock the gates,” she said moving to the passenger’s side door.

  He opened the door letting the heat escape the car’s interior. Regan had scored mega points with him. Her ability to shut Maggie’s trap proved she could handle his ex-wife if he chose to pursue her.

  He trotted around the car throwing the gym bag in the backseat and starting the car. The muscle roar of the car’s engine rumbled beneath his feet. He loved fast cars and the mustang was his baby. He’d restored the classic car to mint condition adding a few necessities such as a cd-changer and satellite radio.

  Orlando hit the switch letting the top lift and lower before putting it in gear. He looked at Regan protecting her forehead from the rays of the sun beaming over her. “Is the sun too much for you?”

  “Well, I don’t want to sound like I’m complaining, but the sun is sorta cooking my head and I don’t have one of those big floppy hats with me.”

&nbs
p; He reversed the lever retrieving the canvas top locking it in place. He turned on the air conditioner full blast. “I’m sorry. The heat doesn’t bother me that much.”

  She adjusted the vents allowing the air to flow in her face. “I do prefer summer, as opposed to winter but I get a little testy when the temps near ninety-degrees before noon.”

  “No problem. The air should cool you and the car in a second,” he said pulling from the parking lot.

  Seated in a small-scale mom and pop diner Orlando found tucked away in a secluded corner of a strip mall, he eyed Regan. He’d psyched himself into believing he wasn’t ready for a relationship, but he had not closed off to making a new friend.

  He studied her as she scanned over the breakfast menu. He loved the natural beauty of black women. Since most people assumed he was black and not Hispanic, he didn’t bother mentioning his heritage in casual conversation. He wanted his success to come from the hard work he put into saving lives and not because affirmative action put him a position to climb the ladder.

  The waitress came to the table removing a pencil from the pocket of her apron. “Good morning, Orlando, are you having the usual?”

  He folded the menu and slid it to the side of the table. He always ordered the same thing when he ate at this establishment. “Yes, Cathy; I’ll have my usual,” he said smiling at the cheerful young woman. “Regan, do you know what you want or do you need a few minutes?”

  Regan looked over the top of the menu at him. “It all looks so good. May I have another minute to decide?”

  “Sure, take your time.” He turned his attention to Cathy. “So how is school, Cathy?”

  “Summer classes are a bummer. I might not be able to lifeguard this summer at the pool.”

  “That sucks. This summer has been a scorcher bringing many people to the pool. You were one of the best lifeguards there.”

  Cathy’s cute giggle drew Regan away from the menu and to their conversation. He and Cathy were obviously friendly enough to chat about their personal lives. She sat the menu on top of Orlando’s waiting for the woman to stop talking and take her order.

  Cathy rested her hip against the table talking to Orlando. “I learned to swim from the best.”

  “I’m flattered,” he said catching a glimpse of Regan from his peripheral vision. “I think my friend is ready to order now.”

  Cathy put her pencil on the pad waiting to write. “What can I get you?”

  Regan forced a smile. “I’ll have the seasonal fruit platter, a plain toasted wheat bagel, and a glass of water.”

  Cathy finished taking the orders and walked away. Orlando groaned. “Please don’t tell me you are one of those women that won’t eat in front of men.”

  Regan shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not one of those women.”

  “All you eat for breakfast is fruit and dry bread?”

  “When it’s this hot I eat light. Anyhow, I just peddled a billion calories away at the gym. I don’t want to that work to go to waste.”

  Orlando lowered his head rubbing his brows grumbling to himself, “Like you have to worry about getting fat.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing worth repeating,” he said regaining composure. “So, tell me about Regan….what is your last name?”

  “Richards. I haven’t decided if I’m going to revert to using my maiden name.”

  “Why go through the hassle when a hyphen will remedy the problem.”

  “That is a possibility but if he marries his mistress, I don’t want to share the same last name as her.”

  He chuckled. “Isn’t that being a tad petty? I mean why go through the trouble of changing your life over the last name.”

  “It’s a woman thing, Orlando. Anyhow I have a reason for holding onto it for now”

  “Well that explains it. What did your husband do to lose you?”

  She took off her sunglasses laying them on the table. “You dive right in don’cha?” She leaned over the table to whisper. “I’ll tell you if you tell me how you and the bubbly waitress came to be chums?”

  “I taught swimming classes at the rec center. Cathy was a student and no we have never dated.”

  “I didn’t ask you that.”

  “You were thinking it.”

  She batted her long black lashes. “You think you know me after an hour of playing your girlfriend?”

  He leaned back in the booth casting Regan another look. He could see himself falling hard for her. “I’m not one to pull the wool over people’s eyes, but that was funny. Maggie has never been caught speechless a day in her life. You have a gift, Regan.”

  Regan burst out laughing. “Is my debt paid in full?”

  Orlando beamed at her. “Yup, it is. My bluntness is about to come forth—your husband had to be crazy to let you go.”

  She tapped the straw on the table extricating the straw from the paper. Sticking it inside the glass, she took a sip before saying, “My husband defiled our love by having sex with another woman.”

  He saw the bright sparks of her eyes dim. “Regan, I’m sorry to hear that. We don’t have to talk about it.”

  “I’m okay. I’ve cried too many tears and blamed myself enough for my failed marriage.”

  “Why did you take the blame for him sleeping with another woman?”

  “I got tired of our lifestyle, Orlando. I left the door open for another woman to walk in and take my place,” she said with tremors of hurt surrounding her words.

  Orlando looked around the restaurant hoping Cathy was coming with their food. He needed a diversion to cut the tension that pushed the humor they’d shared to the wayside. He wasn’t used to comforting women suffering from broken hearts.

  Fiddling with the worn silverware, he forged through, saying something and not changing the subject abruptly. “If it’s not too personal, what kind of lifestyle did you live with him?”

  Regan tucked loose strands of hair behind her ears. “We lived very well. One day we would be in Paris and the next in Cancun. Mark is an entertainment lawyer so his clients are popular celebrities. When one of them called, he went running.”

  “Ah, Mark Richards; I’ve heard of him.”

  “There aren’t many who haven’t. I was sick of living my life from a suitcase. We had to vacation with these people, eat with them. I wasn’t cut out for that life once Mark became famous himself.”

  “Not everyone is cut out for that, Regan. That doesn’t mean you are at fault for his cheating.”

  She nodded not making face contact with him. “When you grow up poor you dream of living the life of the rich and famous. I was good with it the first couple of years, but I missed my family. I missed spending holidays with my sisters and eating real food. The simple task of decorating a Christmas tree by myself and not some esteemed interior decorator doing it, I missed.”

  Her weak smile made him feel a little better. “Well, that explains the fruit and dry bread for breakfast. You adapted to the lifestyle of those surrounding you.”

  “There was no way I could pig out on cheeseburgers and fries while the anorexic wife or girlfriend of my husband’s clients ate celery sticks and carrots. But boy could they throw back the martinis—no calories in those.”

  Cathy returned to the table placing the water in dingy ginger-colored plastic glasses on the table first. Then a plate of steak and eggs with a side of crispy hash browns in front of Orlando and slid Regan’s fruit platter and dry bagel in front of her. “There you go. If you need anything else, just whistle,” Cathy said disappearing from the table.

  Orlando saw Regan inhale the aroma of his sizzling rib eye steak cooked medium rare. He cut a small slice off the end, holding it on the tip of his fork. “There is nothing like a perfectly cooked steak to get the stomach growling.”

  Regan licked her lips. “You’re eating a heavy meal after a workout?”

  “I’m in training so I need the protein,” he said teasing her as he stuck the food in his mouth.


  Regan swallowed hard as he chewed the meat that looked flavorful, tender, and juicy on his plate. She pushed around a grape on her plate stabbing it with a fork. “What are you training for?”

  “An event for the Red Cross; I’m running the stairs of Terminal Tower in full gear.”

  “Oh geez, that sounds grueling. Is Anthony doing it with you?”

  “Yes he is the three of us were chosen by Cleveland Fire to do it. My guys will be standing on the sidelines cheering us on; I hope,” he said scooping a forkful of hash brown potatoes in his mouth.

  Regan dropped her fork and pulled her checkbook from her purse. “I want to make a donation.”

  He slowed his chew. “You don’t have to do that. I’m not asking for donations, I have sponsors.”

  “I want to be one of your sponsors,” she said scribbling on the check and tearing it off handing it to him.

  He wiped his hands before taking the check. His eyes widened. “This is for one thousand dollars. Regan, are you sure you want to donate this much?”

  “Yes and for a bite of your steak. I’m freaking starving and sick of eating twigs and fruit.”

  “Eat up,” he said sliding his plate in her direction and calling for Cathy so he could place another breakfast order.

  *****

  They left the restaurant with full bellies and better acquainted. Regan fought the urge to release the button holding her shorts together. She had not eaten that much in eons and her guts were having a hard time digesting the heavy, greasy food. She didn’t eat the whole steak, but a good portion of it and some of the eggs and potatoes.

  She held the seatbelt with her thumb away from her stomach. Having it press against her belly moved things about painfully. The gassy pressure building inside her was looking to escape. To pass gas in the presence of Orlando or any man was not lady like, but holding it in was painful to the point she wanted to scream for him to pull over the car.

  Once Mark became successful she began to eat like a supermodel to keep her figure tight and Mark happy showing her off. Now that he was gone, she no longer needed to eat as a supermodel but wanted to keep her petite size two figure. So she continued to eat nearly nothing, and rarely had any meat with her meals.