Free When the Smoke Clears (Interracial Firefighter Romance) by Kenya Wright

I said. “We had a job on Siesta Key today. You remember the Grooving Alligator night club?”
    “Yeah.” Rockstar grimaced. “People still go there?”
    “Yep. The place was packed too, but no one was too badly injured.” I slung my bag on my back.
    Rockstar looked behind me. “Hey, Merck. What’s up?”
    “Tough night and a bullshit shift.” Frowning, Merck passed me as he headed to his car strolling by like a goddamn model. Although a cowboy at heart, he kept his red hair in a Mohawk. Like the rest of us, he spent his free days on the beach, but he never got a tan, just a lot of sunburn. Merck glared at us. “I hate when it’s tourist season. Tonight was a rough one.”
    “What are you talking about, Merck?” I held my hands out. “This was a good shift.”
    “A woman almost died over that idiot bartender’s mistake,” he said.
    Not jumping into our conversation, Rockstar remained nosy, set his guitar case on the ground, and glanced at me.
    I shook my head. “She could’ve died, but she didn’t. So, that’s what we focus on.”
    “There you go with that positive manifestation bullshit.” Merck put his hand in front of him and mimicked masturbation. “I swear; I think you’re smoking weed on your off days.”
    “No, but I am meditating. It keeps me from drinking.”
    Rockstar and Merck laughed, doubling over and clapping their hands.
    “That’s right. Laugh at my healing process,” I said.
    Merck waved me away. “All I need is a warm woman and a large bottle of Dowzan rum.”
    I raised my hands in mock defeat. “Hey, if that’s what you need to deal, then go for it. Just don’t sit around focusing on the negativity.”
    “Look.” Merck dug his hands in his pockets. “Tourist season is starting. I can feel the stupidity rising in the air. They’ll be some dumb asses starting a fire on the beach or getting into a drunken accident and killing everyone.”
    Rockstar interrupted. “Got to be more positive, man.”
    Merck gestured at him. “Not you, too?”
    Rockstar slung his bag on his other shoulder and picked up his case. “I’m dating this chick that’s into yoga. She’s the happiest girl that I’ve met. And let me tell you, happy sex is fucking fantastic. I’m probably going to check out some of those books Lou be reading.”
    Merck didn’t appear convinced. “Forget that positive manifestation bullshit.”
    I stopped Merck before he could say more. “Listen. I’ve been at this for ten years. I started at twenty-five. You have some years to go. Get your head right, now, before things get really hot.”
    “Yeah. I’ll probably get some sleep first.” Merck rubbed his face and smiled. “And then, I’ll get some head later.”
    “Head from a yoga chick is also amazing,” Rockstar added.
    “Well, I’m done with chicks,” Merck admitted.
    “Done?” I widened my eyes. “You’re into men now, Merck?”
    “Sure, Lou. The day I get into guys, I’ll be sure to run your way, you big hunk of love.” Merck attempted to hug me.
    I blocked him, before he could come closer. “What’s up with you and women?”
    “They’re giving me problems. All of them.”
    “That’s your problem right there.” I laughed. “You’ve got more than one. Never have more than one woman. You see why I have no hair anymore. I learned that lesson the hard way. One woman at a time, my friend. One at a time.”
    “But how could I not date more than one?” Merck opened his jacket and displayed his slim body. “Look at me.”
    I almost punched him in his gut. “You young cats with your baby dicks ready to stick them in anything that wears heels.”
    “You weren’t like that at my age?” Merck asked.
    “Shiiit,” Rockstar jumped in. “Lou was worse. Still is at times. Years ago, he had a thing for twins and I swear he banged every set of identical sisters on the west side of Florida. Then, the next year, he spent the whole twelve months dating women in pairs. Two women. On one date. I