Chapter Text
Eddie can’t say that Felisa Valdez has been at the forefront of his mind. They’ve been in touch sporadically since that last time they saw each other in person: a selfie from a girls’ trip in the Bahamas, a request for a quick hello video to Abuela after she couldn’t keep it to herself that her grandson had met the star of What the Heart Wants and needed to prove it to the women from church, a sincere congrats on booking a lead role on a big budget movie, as seen on her Instagram. So he hasn’t lost her number or anything. But his year since that beach day has been, well, busy. A lightning strike, a coma, a bridge collapse. All good, just–a lot.
All this to say, his brain does not have the name Felisa Valdez at the ready when someone calls his name outside of a restaurant in a part of LA he would not typically frequent. But–grind to a halt, double, triple take, that’s her. She looks good. She looks happy. She doesn’t look cursed. And probably that’s enough for Eddie to be genuinely happy to see her, to earnestly pull her into a hug.
“I am good, happy,” she says. “You know, back on track. What about you? Didn’t expect to bump into you–do you, uh, live in the area?” she hesitates.
As an out of touch rich person, I don’t know how much a firefighter makes, but I don’t think it’s enough to afford this neighborhood, is what her eyes are really saying.
“Oh, absolutely not, I’m uh,” and this is the part where Eddie remembers the other reason he’s happy to bump into Felisa, “meeting someone. She picked the place.”
Felisa whoops, “hot date! Why are you out here talking to me?”
And Eddie is pretty sure he maintains control of his face, he’s pretty sure he does not wince or shudder or cringe, but somehow he can see the moment Felisa sees, and her expression changes.
“Yikes. Delaying the inevitable? You have to go in there to dump her or something?”
“Or something.” He sighs. “It’s a first date, I don’t even know her. She’s someone my tía set me up with.”
“Oh, a tía, of course,” Felisa hums sympathetically. “I bet she found you just such a nice girl, and you couldn’t possibly say no to her.”
A bitter sort of snort escapes him. “Oh, not just a nice girl,” he says, and before he knows it he’s spilling his pathetic romantic history all over the sidewalk. Or, well, not all of it. Not–just the past year or so. From not wanting to get back out there, to wanting to get back out there, to humiliating failure, to agreeing to give his aunt’s brigade of nice young women another go, to humiliating failure, again and again, to this restaurant they’re standing outside of. He probably sounds like he’s describing the horrors of war.
There’s something in the way Felisa is looking at him right now.
“This happen to you too?” he asks.
“Well.” She scrunches up her face like she’s considering it. “It’s Hollywood. I haven’t gone on a lot of dates that I actually wanted to be on. But I’m not, you know,” she waves a hand in his general direction, “a hot single dad firefighter looking for love. I’m not saying this is what’s right for you, but, you know, maybe you’re going about it the wrong way.”
“That’s not what Pepa thinks,” he laughs. “Come on, I’m holding you up too, you got a date or something?”
Felisa grins, presumably at Eddie’s swerve out of topic. “Agent, actually. Trust me, I’m not hanging around out here just for your benefit.” She huffs dejectedly. “You’re right, though, we’re late enough.”
“Oh, how dare you, I was right on time–no, early, I’m a perfect gentleman–” he halfheartedly protests as he holds the door open for her. Just like that, they’re finally inside and she’s smiling and waving goodbye with a bright, genuine smile and equally genuine well wishes. She makes her way towards the back and there’s no delaying the inevitable anymore as he searches around the room for pretty Lucía from the pictures, and there she is, pretty and perfect, so perfect she doesn’t even seem annoyed, and Eddie–
Eddie’s fine. He’s fine as she gets up to greet him, and fine as he pushes her chair back in for her, and fine as he sits down, and just fine as she leans across the table and whispers conspiratorially, “hey, am I crazy or was that Felisa Valdez?”
The next time he hears from Felisa Valdez, she is actually on his mind. Not just because it’s only been a couple of days since their run-in, but also because he’s debating whether or not he should be sending her a bouquet of flowers or a fruit basket as a show of gratitude. He’s pretty sure he can’t afford anything that would remotely impress a rich celebrity, but he’s also feeling the kind of indebtedness that can only be expressed through big cellophane wrapped items.
The thing is, Eddie’s admission that yes, that was Felisa Valdez he was talking to before he came in and yes, he knows her, sorta and yes, he’d love to tell the story of how he met her, effectively derailed the date from the usual territory into something weirdly more manageable. Lucía is a super fan, it turns out. Lucía had posters of Felisa up in her teenage bedroom. Lucía is quite possibly the only person to have listened to Felisa’s failed foray into pop music and she knows all the lyrics to her debut single by heart and the choreography from the music video. The conversation barrelled on, if not about Felisa herself then about the series of rescues Eddie had met her on, and from then on to mysticism and curses (Lucía’s a believer), never making a single pitstop in the topics of romance or marriage or any of the things that usually leave Eddie hiding in the bathroom, just for a minute or two.
So, bouquet, he’s thinking, a big one, when his phone begins to ping with notifications from none other than Felisa Valdez herself.
Hey
I’m so sorry
Really I feel so bad
You should probably set your instagram account to private
I can’t believe it got so out of hand
Can we talk? Meet somewhere
Somewhere private lol
???????
It’s fine if you don’t want to, I just wanna talk to you about smth
Did you text the right person? I have no idea what you’re talking about
Um
Have you been on instagram at all
I’m not big on social media
Oh that’s good
Well
She sends a picture. It’s a screenshot of an Instagram story from some account called DeuxMoi: a message proclaiming to have spotted Felisa Valdez with a “mystery date” at their exact location, Jesus Christ and, oh, it gets worse, a picture of them, seemingly taken from across the street, of them pulling away from their hug and smiling wide, their faces clear as day. What the fuck?
What the fuck?
Yeah
I’m sorry
It’s not like you sent that in yourself
You didn’t, right?
Haha no
I just should’ve known or been more careful
What’s this deuxmoi thing anyway
Is it like a tabloid
Not really
It’s some instagram gossip account. normal people send in tips
So you couldn’t have known
It’s not like you stuck your hand down my pants somewhere where you knew there’d be paparazzi
Well
I definitely wouldn’t have done that
So you’re in the clear
Did you see your instagram though
I don’t have notifications on
I used to tweet for a living so now that I’m not getting paid for it I don’t like to go on social media
Buck texts me the important things
Okay
I have a lot of questions like why do firefighters tweet and who is Buck but that’s not important
What I was trying to get to
Nicely
Is that I guess people online must’ve gone through my followed accounts on instagram and they know who you are
Like your name instagram handle that you’re a firefighter just about everything
So you see why I feel bad
And why you should set your insta to private
Oh
That’s bad
Yeah
If you still don’t feel like you want to kill me can we meet?
You don’t have to apologize in person or anything
No I got that
I wanna talk to you about something
Oh
Sure
Maybe nowhere public
Agreed
Nowhere public is, in the end, Eddie’s house. Not that Eddie’s too confident in that, at this point. He goes around the house drawing curtains and turning off electronics and contemplates deleting his Instagram account altogether, before considering the amount of shit he’s going to get from Buck and his extended family, in that order, and just setting it to private. He googles “how to delete instagram comments on my instagram account help” and gets to work on ridding his account of these strangers. A lot of the comments are…appreciative, at least. Some of them are definitely not something he wants his tía or primos seeing.
He's in the middle of wondering if he should Google some slang terms he’s seeing that he’s unfamiliar with or if he’ll regret it forever when Felisa knocks at the door.
He drags her inside and pokes his head through the cracked door, looking around furtively.
“Eddie,” she tells him with an amused look on her face, “relax.”
“You sure you didn't get followed by the paparazzi or something?” he asks, shutting the door and taking one last look through the peephole before closing it.
“Oh, I don't really get followed by paps unless I ask nicely.”
Eddie blinks at her.
“I’m not that famous, not anymore,” she says like that explains anything. He blinks at her again, so she adds, “on my level, if you want the attention you call the paps on yourself or you go where you know they’ll be.”
“That's insane. Why would anyone do that?”
She shrugs. “That's the ecosystem.”
“And this…” He trails off, partly trying to figure it out and partly wondering how it is that he ended up having this conversation. “How does this internet tipster business fit in that ecosystem?”
“God, I don't even know. Camera phones were barely a thing when I got started,” she laughs. “And, with the way things had been going for me for a while there, I don't think anyone cared enough to sneak pictures of me to post on social media.”
He can sense the curse of it all creeping into her voice, so he smiles, nonchalantly crosses his arms and leans back against the door. “So, bright side, that new movie raised your profile already?”
“Yeah, to be honest, I was pretty excited at first,” she cringes. “That was before I realized you were getting dragged into it.”
“Yeah. I was just going through my instagram comments, it's nuts,” he huffs with a shake of his head. “Why would anyone bother to track me down?”
She tilts her head at him like he’s being obtuse. “Because they think you’re hot? And it’s the internet.”
He scrunches up his nose at that. In an effort to not think about it, he looks around and realizes that they’ve been standing around since Felisa got here. His mother would kill him for hosting like this.
“Okay,” he concedes, both to Felisa and his mother’s voice in his head, “But how are people so…interested that they're going out of their way to say this shit to a complete stranger? To comment on pictures of a stranger's kid?” he says to the room, to the universe in general as he pulls away from the door and begins making his way to the kitchen. “It's so invasive.”
“Oh.” Felisa’s voice sounds small. It’s jarring enough that Eddie freezes at the doorway and turns to look at her. Any trace of lightness is gone from her face. She looks borderline horrified. “Oh God, your kid. That sucks, I'm so sorry.”
“Hey,” he says, stepping back into the living room with his hands out, hearing his own voice shift into reassurance mode. “It’s fine. Sit down, can I get you something to drink?” She shakes her head. “Alright. You said you wanted to talk about something, not apologize, so come on. Tell me.”
“Actually, it's nothing,” she says, not looking at him. Frowning, shaking her head almost to herself. “This was so stupid. I should go.”
“I’m sure it’s not, and I don’t think you should. Actually,” he says, crossing the room in quick strides and placing his hand on her shoulder, “we’re gonna go to the dining room, and you’re gonna sit down, and you’re gonna tell me, and it’s gonna be alright.”
He gently pushes her along. She gapes at him with a perplexed look on her face, like he’s a puzzle, like she’s mostly just going along out of confusion. He pretends not to notice. When they’re there, he removes his hand to pull a chair out for her, and moves to sit across the table. “Go ahead,” he tells her.
“I was just…going to ask you for a favor,” she says, looking at her clasped hands on top of the table. “But now it feels disrespectful to even ask.”
“Hey, I'm sure it's not. I won't be mad, anyway.” He searches for her eyes. “And, hey, I didn't tell you, I actually owe you one.”
“What?” She actually looks at him now, eyebrows raised. Bingo.
“My date, the other day. She saw you. Huge fan, it turns out. Spent the whole time talking about you,” he laughs reflexively, and it morphs into a real smile when he sees Felisa blush lightly and bite back a grin. “Made the whole thing way less awkward. When you texted I was just thinking I should send you flowers or something,” he says, shrugging, “maybe this favor you want’s a better deal for me.”
She laughs now, but it has an edge to it. “Oh, I don't think it is.”
“Just tell me. It's okay.”
“Okay. Here goes.” She straightens and takes a big breath, like she’s a teenager about to ask her parents for a car. “I was wondering if–this is crazy. If you would mind…playing along.”
“Playing along?” he parrots, at a loss. “With what?”
“With the thing,” she replies, like it’s a chore. She sighs. “The idea that we were on a date–are dating.”
“What…why? I don’t understand.” He thinks maybe it comes out a bit rougher than he intended. It’s just, well, he didn’t know what he expected, but he’s pretty sure it wasn’t this. This entire situation is already so beyond his comfort zone, and now–he’s hoping he doesn’t look horrified or anything, but he’s confused enough to have lost control of his face.
“I know,” Felisa groans.
Shit, he definitely came off too harsh. “No, just–” He makes an effort to soften his tone. “Just help me understand.”
“Okay.” She breathes, looks him in the eye again. “So. Once people found out who you are…” Eddie raises his eyebrows at her. “You know, hot, single dad hero firefighter.”
He laughs, genuinely, not even sure why at this point. “I thought they already thought I was hot. From my picture.”
“Right. Well, made even more irresistible by the other things,” she teases. “Which, by the way. During your little pep talk last year? Military hero, silver star, all those firefighting heroics? Could’ve come up.”
Eddie winces, but tries to play it off. “Right. I thought the cute kid was a better hook.”
“Of course. So, you’re humble, too.” He sticks his tongue out at her, like an adult. “Point is, people think I’m dating this amazing guy, straight out of a romance novel or a Hallmark movie or whatever, and it’s the best things that have been written and said about me…possibly ever.” Eddie opens his mouth and she quickly cuts him off with a wave of her hand. “No, don’t try to argue with me. Believe me, I know what I’m talking about.”
“So…it’s good publicity.”
“Yeah. And they don’t even know the backstory, right? You’re not just a firefighter, you’re the firefighter that saved me over and over. My publicist thinks it’s great.”
“Your publicist.” Eddie stiffens, feeling like suddenly there’s a third, uninvited person in the room.
“I mean–I want to, too. I’m not here with a gun to my head or anything. I trust her.” Her eyes flicker back and forth between her hands and Eddie. “It’s not an easy job, rehabbing my image. You know, between the shit I used to get up to and the kind of work I’ve been doing lately.”
“I thought–” He pauses to really look at her again. It’s there again, her past, the curse, weighing her down. “You have this big movie coming out.”
“The movie isn’t enough,” she laughs bitterly, shaking her head. “It looks like that from the outside, sure, and you want it to, but really there’s an entire team behind you, being paid a fortune to make you into someone the public likes.”
Eddie nods, but he doesn’t get it. Or, he does, but he doesn’t get why she would put herself through this. He remembers, suddenly, that Felisa’s been doing this since–well, he’s not sure, but way too long and way too young as far as Eddie’s concerned. With the memory comes a sense of crushing sadness. “It sounds like a lot,” is all he says.
“Yeah,” she replies, but she’s probably just placating him. “And that’s why I’m here, and not my publicist with a check and an NDA. You’re a real person.”
“So are you,” he says, a bit too insistent, a bit too tense.
“I’m not sure my team knows that,” she laughs it off. “But sure. I wanted to talk to you. As people. Like, this is a crazy thing to ask of anyone, and I can’t believe I actually knocked on your door ready to do it. I just really, really want to get this right.”
“Our fake relationship?”
“No,” she laughs, “this movie. This rollout, my stupid comeback. Whatever’s left of my career.” She sighs, begins worrying at her bottom lip. “I wanted to actually take the wheel for once.”
“I take it,” Eddie says, sensing the direction this is going in, “you don’t get to do that all too often.”
“I don’t know that I’ve ever had a choice,” she says, looking him straight in the eye. It’s so matter-of-fact, and yet it lands like a blow. “I guess I probably did want to act, when I was really little, but what kid doesn’t? Like, see the Spice Girls and want to be one, or watch…um, their favorite TV show and want to be the star. But then once I was in that was it. I couldn’t exactly stop. I mean, my parents…” She tries to force out a sardonic chuckle, but when she shakes her head a little some tears slip from her eyes. “I was the breadwinner. I was just a kid.”
Eddie shakes his head. “That sucks,” he says, keeping his breath and tone even, holding her gaze. Putting all his energy into being comforting. “It’s not okay that they put that on you.”
“Yeah.” She sniffles. “And then I got emancipated and it was like, well, I can’t do anything else. My high school education was a joke and I’d never been in the ‘real world’. I was just…scared. I couldn’t think if I wanted anything else because I wasn’t gonna do it anyway.” She looks at her hands again, begins playing with her bracelets. “And where I could make my own choices I made all the wrong ones. And it just adds up and you’re back to not really having a choice. There’s only one way out of a hole, I guess.” Her tone is even now, but weary, and when she looks at Eddie he can see that her tears have dried up. And Eddie–Eddie doesn’t break eye contact.
“Yeah,” he offers up, uselessly.
“And you were right. About not letting my past dictate my present. My outlook was all wrong. I was vibrating on such a low frequency, that the universe was never gonna send good things my way.”
Eddie raises an eyebrow at her. “I don’t think I said that.”
“No, I read about it in a book. Point is, things got better. I’m out.” She winces. “Of the hole, I mean,” she laughs. “So I guess I just want to make better choices. For me. Like, I’ll never know what I would’ve done if I’d gotten to be a normal kid. That’s over. But now I get to do it for myself, and I can–I can try to do it right. I just–I really want to get it right.”
They sit with it for a moment. Or, maybe Eddie is the one who’s taking that minute. He’s trying to–he’s just listening to her breathe. That’s all. It’s just that, and a moment to think of what to say.
“I’m sorry,” she finally says, and it feels louder than it should, or maybe it’s the way that she’s suddenly jittery and cagey again. Eddie should’ve said something sooner. “I didn’t mean to, like, emotionally blackmail you,” she adds with an entirely unconvincing chuckle.
“You didn’t–”
“I think I did. Actors, you know!” She grimaces, embarrassment showing through and through. “I think I’ve taken up enough of your time.” She begins to stand up, looking around helplessly for her purse, dragging her chair so loudly it makes her flinch.
“Wait.” He strips all hesitation from his voice, makes it so she stops in her tracks. “What would it entail? Pretending it’s real?”
She gapes at him.
“Because, like you said, I am a real person,” he continues, exploiting her silence. “And a firefighter. And a single dad. So I’m not really sure I’m cut out for…a lot of the things that you do.”
“Are you saying…that there is some version of this that you’d be willing to do?”
“Yeah,” he replies, like it’s obvious.
“Why?” she says, staring at him like he’s speaking in a code she can’t crack.
And that’s the question. He senses that, should he agree to do this, it’ll be the question he’ll be dodging for the foreseeable future. Why would you, Eddie Diaz, do this? Do something so–so–
It doesn’t have to be about Eddie. It isn’t about him.
“I want to help you,” he says, and it’s not a lie. He wants to help her now like he did a year ago. He sees her, gets her, now like he did a year ago. “I get it, okay? What you’ve been through, feeling the way you did. I get feeling like–like you’ve gotten everything wrong. Like you can’t get anything right, but wanting to, so bad. And, hey, this is way better than crystals or magic bracelets,” he adds with a smirk, like this conversation has been this playful all along. “Can I, please, finally get you something to drink? And you can walk me through the plan.”
“Okay,” she says, sitting back down, looking at ease. “Tea?”
“Sure.”
When they’re finally settled at the table, Eddie with his coffee and Felisa with the closest thing to her usual overpriced, all-natural, all-organic herbal fare that Eddie could scrounge up from his kitchen (chamomile. It’s chamomile), it strikes him how ridiculous it really is. He’s been to Felisa’s house. He’s skimmed her Wikipedia page. He’s seen the Instagram pictures of her post-curse tropical vacation. And she’s sitting in his living room, her foot just next to the stain on the rug from when Buck took a tumble while juggling a plate of lasagna and an open bottle of wine.
And yet Eddie knows he wouldn’t really feel embarrassed if Felisa looked down and saw it. Which is good, because apparently he’s been staring at it, drawing her eyes right to the spot. She looks back up at him, eyebrows raised.
“You wouldn’t know how to get a mix of pasta sauce and red wine out of a rug, would you?” he tells her.
“You know I don’t,” she laughs.
“Eh, worth a try. Or I’ll get used to it. Probably won’t be the last. My friend Buck, he cooks for us a lot, and he’s good, but he also seems to have it out for my floors.”
“Buck’s an…adult man, then? You mentioned him in a text.”
“Yeah, we work together. You probably met him.” He never really knows how to describe Buck to strangers. “Tall white guy? Not my captain, the other one.”
She doesn’t really take a lot of time to think about it, quickly shaking her head. “Sorry.”
“S’okay, you had a lot going on.” Buck’s a pretty memorable guy, as far as Eddie’s concerned, but he gets it. Still, he has to fight back the urge to pull up a picture of Buck on his phone. “You’re not here to talk about that. So.” He gestures at her, giving her the floor.
He hasn’t signed anything yet. He’s not sure whether Felisa will ever have him sign anything; the big scary team of publicists remained nothing but a bogeyman while the two of them talked specifics in Eddie’s dining room. Either way, right now he exists in an in-between where this isn’t technically happening and he’s not gonna get sued out of everything he owns for telling people about it.
And he kinda wants to tell people. People being, mainly, his son and the 118. Christopher’s veto would’ve been enough to kill the plan before it even got started. Eddie talked it over with him after Felisa left, after picking him up for school. Chris feigned disinterest (God, Eddie knew rationally that he’d turned twelve, but when did he turn twelve?), briefly let a little of enthusiasm slip through at the idea of perks that could come from his dad “dating” a celebrity, then quickly flipped back to pre-teen mode when Eddie assured him it was really just going to be some social media posts for a month or two and it wouldn’t infringe on their actual lives in any way. His stamp of approval came in the shape of a sure, whatever.
Which leaves the 118. Whatever it is that he’s going to get out of this arrangement, which he hasn’t pinned down yet, it isn’t getting the 118 to believe he’s dating Felisa Valdez. And there is that slight creeping sensation that the whole plan’s deranged and irrational. So maybe he wants to tell them to be talked out of it. He’s not sure that he does, or can be. But maybe.
“So,” he finally addresses a patch of ceiling somewhere above Hen’s head during lunch on their next shift, “you guys remember Felisa Valdez?”
“Curse lady,” Chim’s response rises above the vague mutterings of assent of the rest of the team.
“Not,” Jesus Christ, this is already going in a direction outside of Eddie’s comfort zone and control, “cursed. Very much not cursed. We figured that much out.”
“Well, that bracelet seemed pretty cursed,” Hen unhelpfully chimes in, rejecting a high five from Chim.
“I think Eddie was trying to get to something else, guys,” Bobby says, throwing Eddie a lifeline.
“Thank you, Bobby. I ran into her the other day.”
Buck pulls a face. “Where were you that you ran into Felisa Valdez?” he says in a Buck Buckley trademark tone, a façade of teasing banter that belies something between betrayal and inquisition.
The thing is, Eddie didn’t tell Buck about this blind date. Or the one before that. Or the one before that. Pepa volunteered to watch Chris and so Eddie didn’t need to tell Buck and so he didn’t. Nothing more than that. So Buck didn’t know where he was, even though he usually knows exactly where Eddie is at all times. Eddie’s business is his business. And Eddie’s fine with that, usually. He just didn’t tell him this time, that's all.
“That doesn’t matter. The point is–”
Buck scrunches up his face further than seemed possible a second ago.
And Eddie yields at the slightest pressure from Buck, as he usually does. “Okay, fine. I was on a date. A set-up, from Pepa. I’ve gone on a couple, and I’ve tried to keep them on the down-low because it hasn’t really been working out, okay; it’s not a huge deal.”
Obviously that doesn’t really do anything to ease the frown on Buck’s face, but Eddie prefers to stay focused on that and ignore the rest of the table, which has already broken out into the expected laughing and teasing and meddling.
“I’m going to need you guys not to interrupt if I’m going to tell this story,” Eddie says, which–he knows it’s an impossible ask, but he would at least like to have it on the record. “The point is we talked for a bit, went our separate ways–” Buck raises an eyebrow at this. “I went on my date, it didn’t pan out,” Eddie corrects. “And a couple days later I get a text from Felisa saying someone posted a picture of us outside the restaurant on something called Deuxmoi and everyone thinks we’re dating.”
He’s met with a collection of blank stares. It’s at times like these that Eddie is grateful everyone he works with is over thirty and mostly just uses social media to post cute family pictures, and that the only one who doesn’t wouldn’t know a celebrity if they punched him in the face. Well, there’s Ravi, but he swapped shifts with someone from B-shift today. Lucky guy.
“It’s some celebrity gossip account, people send anonymous tips.”
Hen, reaching for her phone, says “Karen might know about this.”
“Please don’t…go looking for it. And please do not look me up on Twitter,” Eddie near begs.
One of her eyebrows rises miles above her glasses. “I don’t think anybody thought to do that until you mentioned it. What happened on Twitter, Eddie?”
Head in hands, he considers outright banging it against the table. The only thing really stopping him is the plate of food in front of him. He hasn’t even gotten to the hard part yet.
“Nevermind. So, people online think we’re dating.”
“They think Felisa is dating some random guy, you mean,” says Hen.
“Well, no. They think Felisa is dating firefighter Edmundo ‘Eddie’ Diaz,” he replies.
“Were you…wearing a sign around your neck?” she asks.
“Felisa follows me on Instagram. And you could really, really see my face in the picture.”
“Was it a good picture? Did you look hot?” Chimney asks around a mouthful of bread.
“Chimney! He–that’s not–Eddie,” Buck splutters, but he’s dead serious, like a cartoon character who just got horrible news. “You’re saying people tracked you down?”
“Yeah. Got a hold of news articles and everything. Pretty messed up.”
“A lot messed up, why are you being so cool about this? You’re the guy who threw out a perfectly good, perfectly expensive coffee maker because he was convinced it was going to turn on him.”
“I stand by that–”
“Yeah, you’re acting pretty weird,” Chim interrupts. “Is all of this to tell us you’re changing your name and fleeing the country? This your idea of a two weeks’ notice?”
“Well, I’m starting to consider it,” Eddie replies, letting the edge of exasperation show. “If you’ll let me get to the point–”
Eddie should’ve known he was courting disaster with that one. The table breaks out into chaos the likes of which is usually only seen in middle school classrooms: Chimney and Hen brainstorming possible new identities for Eddie, thoroughly unserious, although Eddie can see Hen watching him from the corner of her eye. Buck rambling on incomprehensibly about a laundry list of complaints and concerns, a good percentage of which Eddie is pretty sure is mostly just about the Hildy debacle. Bobby’s the only one not saying anything, pretending to be the adult in the room, but Eddie has reasonable suspicions that he’s enjoying it way more than he should. Traitor.
“Guys.” Eddie tries to put on his best “I’m counting to three” dad voice. But he’s a dad to one twelve year old, not a tableful of adults. He does, unfortunately, know the way to get their attention back. “Guys.” One last try. “She wants to date me!”
Chim and Hen look at him like this is the best news they’ve gotten in their lives. Buck reels back like he’s been slapped. Bobby just raises his eyebrows at him.
“Oh, now you care what I have to say?” Eddie gloats. “Well. What I was getting at is Felisa asked me to play along.”
“Dating her is playing along?” Hen asks.
“Pretending to date her is playing along.”
“You’re going to be her fake boyfriend?” Chimney is even more thrilled than he was two seconds ago.
“I might,” Eddie says.
“I had no idea that was a thing that people did outside of–well,” Hen adds cryptically.
“That’s insane,” Buck says. “So–so people were insane and creepy when they just thought you were dating and you’re gonna confirm it and what? Make it a million times worse? I thought–”
“Please do not bring up that stupid Hildy again.”
“He’s got a point, Eddie,” Hen says. “I wouldn’t have taken you for the type.”
“Is there a type of person who pretends to date celebrities?” Eddie says.
“Well, it’s not you,” Buck whines.
“I’m just–I would just be doing it as a favor,” Eddie scrambles to explain. He’s worried that he can’t.
Bobby, who’s been ominously silent this entire time, finally comes in with the steel chair.
“I thought you were ready to start dating,” he says, which. Eddie doesn’t think that’s remotely close to the point.
“Yeah, Eddie,” Buck echoes, all narrowed eyes and petulance, aggressively attempting to spear a tomato on his plate while maintaining eye contact.
“I…I don’t think the blind dates were really working out.”
“So you’re trying to get out of your aunt’s setups, again. And this is what you’re going with?” Hen says, eyebrows raised.
“I did not say that, I very much did not say that. I don’t – I hadn’t even thought about telling Pepa I’m seeing Felisa, to be honest.” But isn’t that a thought. “I just thought a break would be nice, you know? I can find someone at my own pace, organically.”
A chorus of protests and objections, to the tune of “how are you going to meet someone organically when everybody thinks you’re dating someone else”, breaks out across the table.
“Oh, he’s gonna find someone organically, alright,” Chimney interrupts. “Obviously, he’s gonna fall in love with Felisa.”
Buck promptly begins to choke on his salad.
Chimney looks towards the rest for approval. “Come on, guys! The Buckley boy, well, the bar is pretty low there,” Chimney continues, pointedly ignoring Buck’s predicament. “But I expected the rest of you to have watched a rom-com or two in your lifetime.”
Bobby, nodding solemnly, says, “The Proposal.”
“Thank you!” Chimney exclaims triumphantly, then begins to expound on the apparently highly culturally relevant trope of the pretend relationship.
Sensing that his presence in the conversation isn’t truly required anymore, Eddie leans to the side to hit Buck on the back. He’s pretty sure he’s not actually choking but–anyway. Buck just frowns at him, which is pretty funny for someone who seconds ago was looking like he was going to get to punch his tracheotomy card for the second time. Like an ungrateful feral cat. It steals a smile from Eddie, which only slightly softens Buck’s resolve. Eddie’s hand lingers.
“Oooh, or one of those sexy romance novels.” Hen’s contribution brings Eddie’s attention back to the rest of the table. “What? Karen’s in a book club. There’s a lot about firefighters, you know.”
Eddie’s reminded of the books Linda and some other dispatchers would sometimes discuss in the breakroom, that he’d pretend to only be politely interested in while secretly reveling in the drama, like it was one of his abuela’s telenovelas. He removes his hand from Buck’s back. He remembers how Felisa described their imaginary relationship as being straight out of a Hallmark movie. He is certain that none of that is going to happen between the two of them, because–well–because, but now that the conversation has veered off into this more lighthearted path Eddie thinks he should let it. He tunes it out as he focuses on making his hand feel at home on his own thigh and ignoring Buck’s eyes on the side of his head.
He always knows where Buck’s eyes are, is the thing. Which is why, later, after the meal is over and after an emergency has come and gone and Eddie’s keeping busy polishing the engine, he knows there’s no postponing the conversation. He knows Buck’s near and he knows Buck’s upset before he can see or hear him. The latter he, of course, already figured, but he can feel it, feel Buck’s feelings in the air like static.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I did tell you,” Eddie replies, only sparing a glance towards Buck at his side while he keeps working.
“You didn’t tell me, you told everyone, at the same time and, by the sound of it, you’d already made up your mind.” Buck picks up a rag, as if to help, but Eddie keeps his expectations low. He steals a glance at Buck, when he brings the rag up to the truck only to stare at it, and he can see the way his brain is running in a thousand different directions written all over his face. “And you–when was this?–you knew. For a while. I just thought–that’s the kind of thing you’d tell me–we’d tell each other about.”
“You didn’t tell me about–“ he begins to say matter-of-factly, because he’s not mad about it, not anymore, not after–after, but he stops himself, realizing how accusatory it might sound to Buck. The kind of accusation that would get Buck spinning out even more.
What he wants to say is it’s fine if we don’t tell each other some things, but he knows that would be a lie. He knows that that abyss that seemed to be growing between Buck and Eddie last year, the abyss Buck could have fallen into never to return, was anything but fine. Buck must know that too and, even if he didn’t, he can usually tell when Eddie’s lying.
Eddie’s spent the last few months trying to close that gap in what he hopes has been a quiet sort of desperation, and yet. And yet he didn’t tell Buck about the increasingly panic-inducing blind dates, and he didn’t tell him about Felisa, and he doesn’t want to tell him why he didn’t, and he doesn’t want to tell him why he doesn’t want to.
He’s here, though, and he did begin to address one of those things they never talk about. Eddie takes one look at Buck and wishes he’d gone with the lie rather than the nuclear weapon.
“You’re right,” Buck says. He sounds hurt and that’s–that’s not something Eddie ever wants to be the cause of. “I didn’t tell you about the–the donation.” He frowns at the truck. Eddie’s not sure what’s worse for Buck right now: Eddie’s regrettable accusation or, well. That. The baby, all of it. Eddie had gotten the impression that Buck had come to peace with it, although, of course, it had all come to a head around Natalia. He’d talked about it with Natalia, not Eddie, so–
So that’s something else that Eddie needs to keep to himself.
“I think…I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d tell me not to do it,” Buck continues, only now he’s looking straight at Eddie. Firing back. This is the closest any conversation between the two of them has felt to arguing since a grocery store a long time ago.
So Eddie says, “you think it’s a bad idea.” Eddie deflects, Eddie defuses. Eddie’s a good dancer and he’s a master at stepping around the issue, whatever the issue may be.
And Buck, Buck who sees everything reflected on him, Buck who’s got feelings coming out of his ears–he bites. “I just don’t get why you would do this.”
“Would you do it?” Eddie says, giving it the shape of a joke, hoping to change the expression on Buck’s face.
“Exactly,” he replies, breaking out into a grin. Bingo. “I’d do it–and do it well, I think–and you would tell me it was stupid.” Just like that, his body language’s all changed, any pretense of buffing the truck gone, already gesticulating wildly, putting on a show. Eddie’s hands do stay on the job, but his eyes are all Buck’s.
“Well, it would be stupid if you did it. Not catastrophic, just funny,” he adds over Buck’s protests. “Probably like watching one of Chim’s movies.” Buck frowns at that. Noted. “Hey, I haven’t watched The Proposal either. I’m sure it’s just–you fall stupid in love, you embarrass yourself, you get the girl. Sound like anyone you know?”
“Very funny,” Buck replies, frown not totally gone and sounding a little stilted. Eddie’s not even really sure how he fucked it up this time. “So you’re not gonna do that? What’re you gonna do?”
“I’m gonna be normal, Buck. I’m gonna take some pictures with her for her social media, let her write whatever love story she wants, and eventually get fake dumped. It’s not a big deal.”
“But why?” Buck whines. It’s so ridiculous that it’s borderline adorable.
“It’s a favor. She’s had a rough go of it and, through some insane circumstance, I can help her out.”
“And you’re not getting anything out of it?” Buck raises that eyebrow at Eddie again.
“Wow, it’s starting to sound like you don’t think I could be doing this out of the goodness of my heart.” Eddie brings the rag up to his chest, playfully pretending to be wounded.
“I dunno, you seemed awfully excited at the prospect of not having to go on those dates you didn’t even tell me you were going on,” Buck teases, and there he is again, bold and brazen and messing with Eddie just like he likes it.
“Okay, that’s–I didn’t even say that,” Eddie half-heartedly protests. “That’s not something that’s definitely going to happen. But if it did, well, it’s just a fun bonus.”
“Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night,” Buck says, then pauses to think for just a little longer than Eddie would like. “I just can’t believe that you’re going to let yourself be paraded in front of, how many instagram followers? It’s so…public.”
“And I’m?”
“Private?”
Eddie thinks he’s starting to get an idea of what’s freaking Buck out. And he gets it, because it’s probably number one on his own con list. As much as he appreciates the balance that they’ve struck here–after worrying for a second that he was gonna blow up their relationship mid-shift–and as much as he would like to just shoot the shit with Buck for as long as possible, he can tell when it’s time to be serious and deploy some patented Buck Buckley reassurance tactics.
“Hey, I meant it,” Eddie says now, flipping back to firm and serious. “It’s just gonna be, like, a handful of social media posts. An exclusive ‘source’ on an article or two. My own accounts are locked down, and I’ve blocked a lot of people in the past couple of days. And Chris is gonna stay completely out of it.”
“How can you be sure? I mean, you don’t even know her,” Buck blusters.
“I know her well enough. She’s a good person. We talked a lot when she came over and she doesn’t take it lightly, she gets it. We–we actually really get each other, I think.” Eddie doesn’t say she sees me, doesn’t spill that little bundle of hurt he’s been carrying around for the past few months all over the clean firehouse floor. A part of him wants to, but it’s not–it’s fine. It’s not even the same, anyway.
“Are you, like, friends now?” Buck asks, sounding unhinged to a degree that makes Eddie think he may as well have said–that.
“Maybe? I don’t know. We could be, but–I told you, Buck, I don’t think we’re gonna be hanging out, okay?” Eddie says, desperate to bury the issue. “She’s not taking me to red carpets or whatever.”
And Eddie very much does not believe in God, or the universe, or karma or whatever, but the bell choosing that exact moment to go off does feel a little like divine intervention.
“But you want to hang out with her?” Buck yells over the noise, but Eddie’s already on his way out.
Buck’s worried. And, there’s nothing wrong with that. He’s Eddie’s best friend. It’s in the job description to worry about him if he’s doing something stupid or acting out of character, which he is. It’s his business. It’s normal. He’s entitled to feel this way.
Which is why he’s still feeling that way about the Felisa thing hours later, days later, when he wakes up in the morning, late at night when he’s trying to fall asleep. At date night with his girlfriend.
He thinks Natalia might get it.
“So, they’re gonna pretend to date?” she asks with a furrowed brow over a slice of Buck’s latest baking project.
“Yes.”
“That’s so weird,” she says, then seems to mull it over as she eats. See, she gets it. “I didn’t realize that was a thing that people did outside of movies.”
Buck’s stomach does something weird. Why does everyone keep bringing up movies? He pushes his own plate away.
“Well, I guess it could be cute,” she resolves, smiling brightly at Buck. Okay, so she very much does not get it. “You know, like in a movie.”
“No!” Buck snaps before he can even think about it. And then Natalia’s face falls, and he has the time to think about it, and he feels like shit. He tries to collect himself. Tries to find ways to explain, comes up short. “Not like in a movie. Eddie’s not…this isn’t like him.”
“Okay…” she says, making time, studying his face. “Babe, I get that you’re worried. But, I don’t know, is it so bad that he’s doing something a little out there?”
That’s not–it’s just not–she doesn’t know Eddie like he does. She just doesn’t. “But Eddie–you don’t know–”
“You’re right, I don’t know him,” she interrupts, and he can tell from her face that it came off a little terser than she intended. “I mean–I think maybe you’re getting in your own head because you know him so well. And you’re making a bigger deal out of it than you need to.” She places her hand on his cheek, tracing lines along his jaw with her thumb. “Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s great that you care so much. That you’re such a good friend. But maybe you have to give this time. Don’t make it a problem if it isn’t one.”
Buck leans into her touch, tries to sink into her gaze, her beautiful eyes, her–
“And, you know,” she adds with a twinkle in her eye, “if it is out of character, isn’t that kind of the whole thing? I’m not much of a romcom person, but I thought it’s usually like, one of the main characters is so not the type for romantic hijinks and by the end they're totally into it and in love.”
Buck suddenly thinks he might be sick. He wonders if the eggs he used for the cake were off.
“Are you done?” Natalia says, eying his abandoned dessert. “You wanna watch a movie?”
He really, really doesn’t want to watch a movie. He shakes his head as evenly as he can muster.
“Okay,” she says, taking his hands and pulling him up and towards the loft stairs. “Maybe we can do something else to take your mind off things.”
They try. It doesn’t work.
Natalia seemed pretty annoyed with him after the other night. Buck wonders if it was just their conversation over dinner or if she could tell that his heart wasn’t really in it when they had sex afterwards, that he was still thinking about Eddie. Not about Eddie, about the Eddie situation, because Buck’s worried, which is normal. A normal thing to be, as Eddie’s best friend. Not that he feels great about how his night with Natalia went down. He wants things to go well. He likes her. He wants to put his best foot forward and, well, usually sex is one of his best feet. So to speak. He’s enthusiastic. He’s not one to just lie back and think of England. And if maybe this time he was thinking of England, or someone else, no, no, something else, he doesn’t want Natalia to know, or to think that it’s anything to do with her.
So he really needs to figure this out. Talk it out with someone who isn’t Natalia, someone who gets Buck. Well, not that Natalia doesn’t get Buck. Obviously she does. That’s why he’s dating her. Because he feels like she sees him, and she does. But there’s Buck, and there’s Eddie, and then there’s BuckandEddie, and maybe understanding the last two is something that requires something more than an instinctive special connection. Like experience, which Natalia, through no fault of her own, does not have. Maybe he should get the three of them together more often or, even better, the four of them–Buck and Eddie and Christopher and Natalia–so Natalia can really be a part of his life, not that she's not, but so she can get to know his people better, except it's gonna be hard to arrange that now, isn't it, now that Eddie’s probably busy with this stupid Felisa business and Buck just–
Yeah, so he really needs to work through this with someone.
Buck usually prefers to ambush Maddie with his personal problems at work, during her lunch break. Show up bearing an offer she cannot refuse (takeout) and at a time when even Buck’s tragic, annoying and/or frustrating dilemmas are a welcome distraction from, like, people dying on the line. Or calling 911 because their neighbours planted a tree over the property line. He is, however, worried about what Eddie would do if Josh got wind of this, of any part of Eddie’s personal life. Buck’s not entirely sure what went down between them at dispatch, but Eddie’s barely contained snarl whenever he comes up tells Buck everything he needs to know. It’s cute, like an angry baby lion or something, but Buck doesn’t want to know how far the feeling can get.
So, disturbing Maddie during her precious time off it is.
He texts Eddie to find out what he’s up to before heading out to the Buckley-Han house. Buck’s busy, obviously, but he likes to know what Eddie does with his forty-eight off even when things are normal and now, well, now his skin itches for the confirmation that Eddie’s doing something without Buck, something out of the ordinary, something–
Hey Buck! I just dropped Chris off at school and I’m headed to Felisa’s to take pics for the hard launch? Idk what that is but she’s gonna buy me breakfast so
What are you up to? Maybe we can hang out after
For lunch
Or whatever you want
I’m free
Buck’s head might explode. He looks around at his stupid loft and his stupid bowl of stupid cereal and he remembers Felisa’s ridiculously nice house and he imagines the ridiculously nice breakfast that’s waiting for Eddie there, probably mostly French pastries that Buck can’t even pronounce, or juice pressed from fruits he’s never heard of, and he pictures Eddie and Felisa laughing and having a good time and he texts back:
awesome! 😁👍👍🥞👏
im headed to maddies ill let you know later
He stops by a bakery on the way and buys a perfectly good and yummy and affordable on a firefighter’s salary breakfast as a sort of preemptive apology to Maddie. Donuts. They’re cute. Glazed in pastel colors. He could snap a pic and put it on his Instagram story, where Eddie might see it.
Anyway, Maddie. Maddie will love these, and Maddie will listen to him, and he loves Maddie.
Maddie can see right through his bullshit the moment she sees the box in his hands, or maybe even the moment he knocks on her door at nine a.m. on their day off. But Maddie’s a saint, and she smiles anyway as she takes the box off his hands and directs him to pour himself some coffee in the kitchen, apologetically announcing that Jee is at daycare. Which sucks. He could use some Jee time. Maybe Uncle Buck could be normal and think about something other than Eddie for five minutes. Or not. Probably not.
Buck hasn’t even had a chance to pick a donut when Maddie says, “did something happen with Natalia?”
“No, Maddie, things with Natalia are perfect, they’re–it’s just–Jesus, why would you think that?”
She raises her hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean that I expected something to have happened. I just, as your sister, can tell that you want to talk about something. And, I figured, if something had happened at work I would’ve heard about it from Chimney, that’s all.” She sighs. “I wasn’t implying anything, Buck.”
“Well, it’s not Natalia. Or work. It’s Eddie.”
Maddie pauses with her hand hovering over the donuts, frozen staring into the box like her brain is running through various Buck-handling protocols. “Okay,” she says, suddenly jolting back to life and piling two donuts onto her plate. “What’s going on with Eddie?”
“Do you remember last year we went on a bunch of calls with this, like, failed actress?”
Maddie just stares blankly at him. “No.”
“Well, neither do I.”
“Okay?”
“I was preoccupied. With, well.” He gestures downwards in the general direction of his crotch. “I had to do my donation and I wasn’t–I hadn’t–”
“Oh! Ew!” Maddie nearly shrieks. “How is this relevant to whatever is going on with Eddie?”
“It’s not! Well, it is–apparently while I wasn’t paying attention, he and this Felisa person really bonded and–”
“Wait,” she cuts him off, waving a donut around in the air in excitement. “This is about the fake boyfriend thing. Howie told me!”
“Well, why didn’t you lead with that?” Buck says.
“Why didn’t you lead with that?” Maddie retorts. “Do you think I wanted the conversation to get anywhere near my baby brother’s…personal habits?”
“I–gross! Maddie!” Buck whisper-yells, scrunching up his nose.
“How is any of this my fault?” she squeals, expression mirroring Buck’s.
“I –you–whatever. So you see why I’m…worried.”
“Uh.” Maddie blinks at him. Once, twice, three times. “Why don’t you tell me? In your own words?”
“You don’t think this is crazy?” Buck asks, eyes frantic and wide, desperately trying to make her see it.
“Well, I don’t think it’s normal, obviously,” Maddie says. “I just…would like your help in understanding why it has you so worked up that you showed up at my house on my day off with a bribe.”
“I mean–don’t you think I should be worried about my best friend here? You don’t think doing something so insanely out of character is cause for concern?”
“Buck, I don’t know Eddie nearly well enough to say that this is ‘insanely out of character’.” She pauses, frowns. “Actually, I’m not sure I’ve ever exchanged more than small talk with him.” She contemplates it for a second, then shrugs it off. Buck thinks that’s criminal. “Point is, I need you to actually tell me what you’re thinking if I’m going to help.”
“Well, Eddie–Eddie’s great. And you should talk to him more,” Buck says, because now that it’s been brought to his attention it seems like a pressing issue. “I think you guys would get along.”
“Buck.”
“Right–well–it’s just like you said, it’s not normal. And Eddie–Eddie is–”
“Normal?” Maddie interjects with a half smile.
Buck groans. He can find plenty of words to describe Eddie on a normal day. He’s got a reservoir of adjectives and amateurish metaphors and similes that describe who Eddie is and who he is to Buck. But right now his brain is a tangled mess of–of stuff he just doesn’t understand, and everything is off-kilter.
“Well, yeah, but not, like, in a bad way, in a good way, a great way, I’m not saying he’s regular, of course he’s not, he’s special but he’s not…” He’s distracted from his rambling when he notices Maddie’s eyes growing slightly wider by the second. “Hollywood?”
“Okay…what’s Hollywood about this? I mean, he’s not actually going to date her, and if he was…”
Buck exploits Maddie’s moment of hesitation to put his foot on the gas again. “I know that. But as far as the world, or Felisa’s Instagram followers, or whatever, is concerned, he is. Not to mention – maybe even his family, did Chim tell you that? It’s crazy. Eddie’s private. He’s down to earth. And he’s gonna let a stranger plaster his face all over social media, maybe even magazines, for other strangers to see? For what? And he says it’s mostly just social media but what if it’s not?”
Maddie, who has at various points during this verbal rampage opened her mouth only to close it at a total loss, finally cuts in. “You don’t think Eddie can handle himself, if that happens?”
“Of course he could handle himself. Have you met Eddie?”
“Yeah?” Maddie says with a confused raise of her eyebrows.
Buck barrels on. “So you know, obviously, that he could probably fit right in. He has the looks.” Maddie tilts her head sideways like Buck’s not making any sense. Buck’s making perfect sense. “And he could charm their pants off if he wanted to. Hell, he’s already befriended one celebrity, evidently.” His grip on his coffee mug tightens dangerously. “It’s not his crowd, I know it’s not, but oh, they’d probably love him.” His head is so loud that he can’t really hear his own voice but, if Maddie’s dealing-with-a-cranky-toddler face is anything to go by, his tone is probably getting more and more petulant by the second. He can’t really bring himself to care, especially as he is struck by an especially harrowing thought. “What if they do love him? What if he loves them?”
“You haven’t had a donut,” Maddie blurts out. “You should have a donut.”
“Maddie! I’m serious. What if it’s just so much better in that world that–”
Maddie tries to shove a donut in his mouth. “You just said that that’s not his scene,” she says, taking advantage of the silence brought on by Buck frantically trying to dodge her attack.
“Yeah, but what do I know?” Buck takes the donut from her and starts waving it around as he talks rather than eating it. “I said that because I thought I knew him, because I’m supposed to be his best friend, but maybe I’m not. Maybe I don’t know him. Did you know he goes to these super secret super fancy poker nights with higher ups from the LAFD?”
Maddie actually pauses at this. “That is a pretty weird thing for firefighters to do,” she says.
“Yeah a-and he goes to this weekly basketball game for first responders that I don’t go to –”
“You hate basketball.”
“I know, that’s why I don’t go, but my point is he probably has all these friends I don’t –”
“How fancy are we talking?” Maddie interrupts.
“I–what –basketball?”
“Poker. Black tie?”
“Poker isn’t the point, Maddie.”
“Also, how top secret? And how would you know about it if it’s top secret?” Maddie’s staring off into the distance now, like she’s trying to mentally paint a picture.
“He invited me once, a couple of months ago.”
Maddie looks at him again now, and she doesn’t say Jesus Christ, Buck, but her eyes definitely do. “Okay, so he’s not systematically keeping a part of his life secret from you. And the reason you don’t go to those games is that you hate basketball, so it’s not that you haven’t been invited before.”
“Well, maybe not, but it’s there!” he maybe yells. “And I’m not a part of it, and I don’t really know anything about it–who knows how long those poker games have been going on, who knows if he doesn’t have some basketball best buddy he’d rather hang out with, and who knows if he hasn’t secretly been longing to be some male model or movie star and this Felisa business gives him the chance!”
Buck finally takes a bite of the donut Maddie had shoved at him earlier. Maddie takes a long sip of her coffee.
She sighs. “Are you really worried that Eddie’s gonna go to one Hollywood party and quit firefighting to become a…” She scrunches up her face. “Male model?”
“I don’t know.” He can hear himself now, and he knows he sounds whiny and petulant and he doesn’t care. “There’s also what Chimney said.”
“Oh, God.” She preemptively brings a hand to her temple. “What did he say?”
“That they’re going to fall in love. Like, that’s what happens in movies when people pretend to date or whatever.”
Some sort of realization seems to wash over Maddie, which, what? “I’m going to kill Howie. Don’t listen to him, okay? This isn’t a rom-com.”
“But what if it is?”
“Okay. What if it is? If this plays out like a rom-com, and they fall in love, what’s the problem with that?” There’s a defiant undertone to her voice, like she’s about to–very gently, in a loving, sisterly manner–push Buck off a cliff. It sends him spiraling once more.
He’s trying to answer but it’s like whatever the hell is going on in his mind is coming out of his mouth one syllable at a time and entirely out of order. “I–he–well–the–she–”
Maddie’s expression softens and she takes his hand, the one holding the donut, and directs it to his mouth. Buck takes a bite and chews with an unrelenting frown. Maddie watches him the way she watches videos of cute animals on her phone.
“It just wouldn’t work out,” he finally manages through a mouthful of donut.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she chides him, but she smiles anyway. “Are you worried that the big mean movie star is going to break poor Eddie’s heart?”
“What do you mean?” he replies, confused, still not quite done with the donut.
“You could at least cover your mouth with your hand, Jesus. I mean, are you worried about him getting hurt if he falls for her and she rejects him?”
That’s hilarious. Buck has to laugh. “Um, I don’t think the problem is someone not falling in love with Eddie, Maddie. Seriously,” he says, because it’s obvious. Maddie gives him a look like it’s not. “The problem isn’t Eddie, okay? It’s all of it. It’s–they’re so different. Their lifestyles, their schedules. He’s a firefighter a–and a single dad, how would that work with–well, however it is that an actor lives? She’s probably traveling all the time a–and going to parties and–and it couldn’t last. It’ll blow up in their faces. All of it, it’s just not right for Eddie, he would hate it.”
Maddie laughs with one of those oh, Buck looks on her face. “Just a minute ago you were freaking out that he would actually looove it and ditch you to become a movie star.”
Buck feels the blood drain out of his face. “Oh my god, you’re right.”
“Buck, no, I wasn’t being–”
“It could work out. He likes her, he told me he likes her, that they get each other?” At this, Maddie raises her eyebrows and nods her head. Huh? “What does that even mean? What if he’s so in love with her that he’ll do anything for it to work a–and he quits the 118, quits firefighting–hell, quits working altogether–and just becomes a full-time Hollywood househusband?”
Maddie’s got both her hands on her temples now, like she’s the one having a hard time here. “Oh, come on, Buck,” she says. “I don’t think you have to worry about that. From what you told me, Eddie couldn’t even stand working a desk job.”
“Exactly! He’ll be miserable! What’s he gonna do at home all day, garden? He hates gardening!”
“Buck!” Maddie practically yells, standing up and almost slamming the kitchen island with both hands, like a teacher trying to control a roomful of pre-teens. “If he falls in love with Felisa,” she continues, voice softer but firmly holding Buck’s gaze. “Which, just so we are absolutely clear, we have no reason to believe has happened–”
“Yet.”
“It is not currently true and that’s that.” She’s pointing her finger at him like he’s five again. “And Felisa is also in love with him. Which–do not interrupt me–we have no reason to believe is or will be the case. If they are so in love that they do what it takes to make it work, whatever that will be, you’re not gonna lose Eddie, okay?” She walks around the island to sit on a stool next to him and takes his hand, like he’s five again, but in a good way. “What you two have is stronger than that. And Eddie’s a big boy and you have to trust that he’ll do what’s right for himself, and be there for him if it goes wrong, if he gets his heart broken, okay?”
Buck nods, looking at their hands, probably pouting a little.
“I think…maybe it's not just Eddie you're worrying about,” she adds.
This makes his head snap up. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I think maybe you're feeling a bit…” She pretends to think about it, to search for the right words. “Threatened by a new person in Eddie's life.”
“Threa–you think I'm jealous.” Buck gapes at her. “Of Eddie's girlfriend. He's had a girlfriend before, Maddie.”
“Buck, she is literally not his girlfriend. That's the whole point of this…scheme. It sounds like maybe he and Felisa have a lot in common and are spending time together, as friends. Like he likes her. Which, from what you've told me, wasn't even the case with his ex-girlfriend.” She squeezes his hand. “You and Eddie are so close. You don't really have other friends like that. It wouldn't be weird if you felt a little left out. But you have to be a grown up about it. Eddie's allowed to have other friends. It doesn't mean that you're not his best friend anymore, or that because his new friend moves in different circles he's gonna ditch you to hang with her…much cooler friends.”
“Hey! I'm cool.”
“The coolest.” She pats him on the face and gets up, moving to clear her coffee mug.
“I think you’re right,” he says slowly, pensively. “I might be jealous.” Maddie nods at him reassuringly. “Jealous that he has other friends.”
Maddie breaks eye contact to look at the ceiling. “Uh-huh, yeah,” she says, quickly turning around and taking off towards the counter.
Buck keeps going, like the dominoes are falling into place. “I guess–even before I knew that she ‘got him’–,” he says mockingly, complete with sarcastic air quotes, and then remembers that part of Maddie’s advice was to be a grown up about it. That’s not gonna be easy. “Sorry. Even before that, I think I was mad that he didn’t tell me.”
“He did tell you,” Maddie says over the kitchen sink.
“He didn’t tell me first,” Buck whines, and Maddie turns around and looks at him like he’s a video of a baby seal again. “I-I guess it scares me that we could lose each other again.”
Maddie walks back to the kitchen island. “Again?” she says softly.
“Last year–for months, before the lightning strike, we were just–I don’t know. Nothing happened. But we were sorta drifting apart. I didn’t tell him about the sperm donation thing.”
“You didn’t tell me about it either,” she says. “I, your own sister, had to find out from Howie, who found out by accident.”
“I know, I know, I’m never gonna live it down, I get it. I didn’t tell anyone who could’ve talked me out of it. But Eddie–he brought it up today. When I asked him why he didn’t tell me. And it got me thinking–spiraling–about all the other things we didn’t talk about back then. I don’t want that to happen again. I’ll get struck by lightning again if it’s what it takes but–”
“Jesus Christ,” Maddie interrupts. “I don’t know that we’re all at the making jokes about it stage yet.” What jokes? Who made a joke? “But, that aside,” she continues, “you’re talking about it now, aren’t you?”
“To you.”
“So what’s stopping you from telling Eddie? Just be honest and open,” she tells him, and Buck thinks there’s a nonzero chance she’s using her dispatcher voice on him. “And nobody needs to get struck by lightning. God.”
“You’re right. As usual, I know,” he quickly adds at the sight of Maddie’s Big Sister face. “I’m just gonna clear the air. He said he could get lunch after he was done with some Felisa thing,” he says in what he hopes is a very mature and grown up and not resentful tone. “So I’ll do that, I’ll talk to him, right now.”
“Buck, it’s like, ten in the morning,” Maddie tells him as he’s patting around his pocket looking for his car keys. “You wanna hang out with me until then? Help me around the house? I feel like you owe me.”
“Hey, I bought you breakfast.”
“Still cheaper than therapy. We can go get Jee from daycare after? Maybe some Jee time will give you the courage to go have your big scary talk with your friend,” she says, and it’s honestly probably true, but she also says it in a baby voice, like he’s the one getting picked up from daycare. He should resent it on principle.
“Fine. But only if you stop making fun of me.”
“Never.” She pinches his cheek. “Hey, you know they teach a lot about expressing your feelings in pre-school these days. Maybe when Jee gets that far she can share her notes with you.”
Eddie did know it was ridiculous, in the abstract. But now he’s standing in Felisa’s foyer with a duffel bag containing several changes of clothes so he can take a series of photos that will convince strangers on the internet that he’s been dating someone he doesn’t know all that well for–shit, he doesn’t actually know how long they’re supposed to have been together for. He wonders if he should get his story straight with Felisa, and then he remembers that he’s just taking pictures and not sitting for an interrogation. This isn’t about him. He’s not going to lie to anyone he knows. For sure.
The point is, it’s finally sinking in.
Alexis, Felisa’s assistant, is the one who showed Eddie in. Alexis, who Felisa trusted the most in the world. Alexis, who betrayed that trust and stole from her. She’s still around. Eddie’s suddenly in a much bitchier mood than he was when he got out of bed in the morning.
“Can I see what you brought?” she says shortly, motioning for Eddie to hand over the bag.
He does, making sure he doesn’t look happy about it. Everything about Alexis tells him she’s not crazy about him either.
She rummages through it under Eddie’s glare. “You didn’t bring anything with the LAFD logo?”
“Logo?” he bites out with a sneer.
“Shield, badge, logo, whatever. I don’t care–we’re supposed to be exploiting the firefighter angle.”
“Wouldn’t have killed you to be clearer about that,” he mutters.
“So you didn’t.”
“No.” He can hear footsteps approaching, Felisa’s, he assumes. It feels a little bit like arguing with his sisters with a parent in the next room, with the knowledge that one of them could win the argument by decree very soon.
It is, indeed, her nearing the stairs. She greets him warmly and loudly from the top, like she’s making her big entrance in a telenovela or a Disney movie.
“He didn’t bring anything LAFD branded,” Alexis tattles immediately.
“I might have something in the car, if you really need it,” he tells Felisa, and only Felisa, and he only makes a move for it once he gets the okay from her, and not from any suspect, known embezzler assistants.
He says he might have something with an LAFD patch, but he actually knows for sure that he does. It’s just not–well, it’s not his. Buck left it there on one of those rare occasions when they didn’t use the Jeep to get around, Eddie behind the wheel of his truck instead. Buck changed out of his sweaty LAFD t-shirt and he left it in Eddie’s car and Eddie said he would wash it and get it back to him and then he just didn’t. He didn’t even forget, he just–well, he knew it was there, is all.
He gives it a sniff. It’s not too bad.
When he returns to the house, triumphantly wielding the mildly disgusting yet indisputably LAFD branded t-shirt, he finds Felisa and Alexis talking in the kitchen, elbow-to-elbow, shoulder-to-shoulder. They jump apart when Eddie makes his presence clear, clearing his throat and holding up the shirt.
“Great!” Felisa exclaims, clapping her hands and doing an only half-decent job of playing it cool. Eddie’s not made nervous by this, exactly, he’s just reminded of Felisa’s anxious demeanor as she laid out her reasoning the other day at his house. He knows–well, he knows there’s a lot beyond the surface. That’s it. It’s not really any of his business. He just wants to help her be better, feel better, whatever.
“I went through your bag, hope that’s okay,” she keeps going. “Laid out your outfits that go with the outfits I had planned, I think we’ve got a good carousel’s worth of stuff.”
He just nods, because he’s pretty sure it doesn’t even matter if he pretends to know what the hell she’s talking about.
“Help yourself to whatever,” she says, gesturing to a basket of pastries on the island. “And we’ve got coffee pods, or juice in the fridge. In the meantime, Lex and I are just gonna hash out some details.” They stand close together again, staring at Eddie like he’s a puzzle.
“Are we thinking highlighter?” Alexis stage whispers.
“Yeah, I know the one,” Felisa replies. “What about the hair?”
Eddie gets to work on some massive buttery pastry before it’s too late.
He can admit that he underestimated this whole Instagram business. They’ve been doing this for hours, and he doesn’t think they’re going to get more than six pictures out of it. Some of it he expected. Different outfits, different spots across the house to obscure the fact that they were all taken in the same morning. Nearly everything else he did not. Like Alexis attacking him with makeup brushes loaded with products worth more than his mortgage and that he’d never heard of before. Or Felisa performing some high-level engineering on his hair, making sure a strand fell across his forehead just right, but also that it looked slightly different in every single picture. He’s no stranger to hair gel, but, after this, he’s pretty sure he'll still have hairspray in his lungs when he dies. He thought he knew how to take a half-decent selfie, but now he’s taken pictures from angles he didn’t know existed, and he’s found out that he has a good side and a better side and a no, Eddie, are you insane side. He kind of gave up on learning anything very early on, and settled on letting himself be posed like a doll.
All in all, by the time they’re done, Eddie’s been thoroughly reminded of the fact that he really loves his job.
Felisa and Alexis are huddled over one of their phones, involved in what appears to be a deadly serious discussion over what photos should make it and why. Eddie’s sprawled across a very nice but not very comfortable couch, feeling like he just ran a marathon, messing around on his phone, waiting to be summoned again. Text notifications start coming in. It’s Buck, and Eddie feels a little bit more alive than he did a minute ago.
hey i’m free for lunch if you wanna hang
or if you don’t that’s also fine
but it would be cool
if we could have lunch
together
👍👍👍
I think I’m almost done here
Anywhere you wanna go is fine by me
awesome
tacos?
👍👍👍
When he straightens himself up to try and catch Felisa’s eye, figure out if he can head out, he realizes he could probably walk straight out of this house and nobody would miss him. Felisa and Alexis aren’t standing close like they were earlier, they’re standing closer. They’re close enough to share breath. Eddie freezes looking at it for a moment. It’s just–well. It’s none of his business. And whichever way he feels right now, it’s probably just that it’s lunchtime.
“You guys need me for anything else? I’m supposed to have lunch with Buck.” Alexis raises her eyebrows at this. None of her damn business. “And then I have to pick up my kid from school.”
“Yeah, we’re probably good for today,” Felisa says with a smile towards Eddie and looks towards Alexis for confirmation.
“Did you ask him about–” Alexis begins.
“We’ll talk while I walk you out, right, Eddie?” Felisa quickly cuts her off and begins walking towards the front door.
“Sure,” he says, but he’s mostly just scrambling to grab his shit and follow her.
“So, we were wondering if you’d given any thought to, you know, compensation,” Felisa says over her shoulder as Eddie trails behind her. “I got an estimate–”
“I told you I didn’t want money,” he interrupts with a mildly exasperated sigh.
“But you know I don’t care about money,” she says, turning to face him when they’ve reached the doorway. “If you want more or you need something–”
“Felisa,” he says in a sing-songy warning tone.
“I know,” she whines. “I just feel like I can’t let you do this without getting something in return.”
“I really don’t need anything,” he says. “Maybe you just owe me one, okay? Does that make you feel better?”
“Fine,” she huffs, opening the door for him.
“Fine,” he parrots with a smile. “Okay, I’m gonna go. You just text me if you need–well, if you want anything, okay?”
He doesn’t really know what he and Felisa are to each other now. What they really are to each other, that is. It could end here, he knows that much. Felisa uploads some of the pictures now and banks some to periodically remind her followers of his existence, her publicists send out information about their beautiful love story to any magazine that’ll have them and, when they’ve gotten all that they need out of it, Felisa posts a heartfelt instagram story announcing their amicable breakup. And they never have to see each other again. But–there’s that feeling. That they get each other on some unspoken level. That they could be of help to each other.
So he leaves the door open.
“Yeah,” she says softly as Eddie’s turning away. “Hey, Eddie, you’ve got–”
“Oh, Buck dropped me a pin,” he says, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I really gotta go if I’m gonna make it. Thanks for breakfast!” he calls out as he gets in the truck.
By the time Eddie’s made it to the taquería, Buck’s already placed both their orders.
“Hey, man,” he says when Eddie sits across from him at the table. ”How was–” Buck squints at him. “Did you stop by the gym or something?”
Why–oh. Eddie’s still wearing the stale LAFD workout t-shirt. Buck’s sweaty, stale LAFD workout t-shirt.
“Shit,” he says, and he’s not blushing. “I forgot to change. Can you smell it all the way from there?”
“I mean, it's not that bad?” Buck says, tone entirely unconvincing, twisted up face not helping. “I just–you said you were at Felisa's.”
“I was,” Eddie says. “But I forgot to pack anything LAFD, and apparently it was crucial to have pictures where I'm wearing LAFD stuff–”
“Well, I guess being a firefighter is your whole appeal…” Buck teases.
“Oh, really?” Eddie laughs. “Just that? My devastating good looks have nothing to do with it?”
“I mean, I don’t know why they needed to take pictures with your face in it at all,” Buck says with that swaggering smirk. “Are you sure they’re not gonna crop it out? Just leave in the badge and your muscles?”
“Oh, so you admit my body’s part of it,” Eddie says, leaning forward and pointing an accusatory finger at him.
“I–well–it’s a firefighter’s body–” Buck splutters, looking pinker and less confident than a second ago.
“Uh-huh, sure, sure that’s all.” Eddie nods, and trying to get them back on track, says, “anyway, point is, all I had was this shirt that’s been baking in my car for who knows how long.” He waves his hand, no big deal. “Hence the stink.”
And that’s that on the telltale shirt, and Buck’s drifted into a detailed list of every cute thing Jee did when he saw her last when he’s interrupted by an employee at the counter calling out his name. Eddie volunteers to get their order. When he comes back, Buck is on the verge of giggles.
“Okay,” he chokes out. “Maybe they are using you for your body.”
“Oh?” Eddie says, stopping in front of their table to set down their food and carefully measure out his tone before he teases, “why, were you checking me out, Buck?” It sounds playful enough, enough like a joke, that he provokes Buck further. “Watching me walk away?”
Buck turns that great shade of pink again, and loses control of his mouth again. “I–no, well, yes, in the sense that–don’t turn this around on me man, you’re the one walking around with clips on your clothes. With your shirt clipped back tight,” he adds, a grin back on his face.
“Oh, fuck.” Eddie’s laugh peters out and his hand reflexively goes to the back of his neck. “How did I miss that?”
“They really wanted you bursting out of that shirt, huh?”
“No–well, kind of? It was too big, it looked bad, or something.” He reaches behind himself to try to remove them. “You’re not gonna help me out?”
Buck’s still laughing, but he gets up anyway, spins Eddie with hands on his shoulders like he can’t do it himself, and gets to work. “Man, this could’ve waited, our food’s gonna get cold. Since when do you order your shirts a size too big?”
“I don’t,” Eddie replies. He sits back down once Buck’s gotten the last of the clips, hoping that the lunch waiting for them will end the t-shirt debacle, but Buck’s still looking at him expectantly over his tacos. “Uh. It’s not mine.”
“What do you mean it’s not–Eddie.” Realization washes over Buck’s face. He lets out a disbelieving huff. “You said you were gonna give it back to me. It’s been in your truck this whole time?”
“I forgot, man, it got wedged between the cushions or something.”
“Yeah, right, ‘or something’,” Buck laughs. “And you just happened to remember that you had it between the cushions when you needed it for your little photoshoot.”
“I did!”
“Just admit you were too lazy to wash it, man,” Buck says. “Were you just gonna let it decompose in there?”
“I am not–you know I clean my truck,” Eddie protests.
“And yet.” Buck gives him a once-over while he eats. “Hey, it doesn’t look too bad on you.”
“Yeah, well,” Eddie says, straightening slightly. “You buy your shirts too small.”
“Oh, so you admit that it didn’t look baggy and you just wanted your muscles to pop?”
“That was not my idea. I mean, you know even if I wanted to I would never come up with–I mean look at these, they’re not even clothespins,” he says, gesturing towards the clips on the table. “Apparently Felisa uses this stuff when she gets sent samples or whatever to post on her page but they’re not the right size.”
“Sure,” Buck says, expression melting into something too close to a frown for comfort. “I guess you got a taste of the influencer lifestyle. Speaking of, I wanted to talk to you about that,” he segues, and it doesn’t sound nearly as casual as Eddie imagines he wanted it to.
“About influencing?” Eddie replies, pretending that it did.
“About the whole…Felisa business,” he says, staring at the table with a hangdog look on his face. “I wanted to apologize.”
“Apologize for what?” Eddie asks, bewildered, putting down his food and focusing on Buck, trying to beckon his eyes back towards him.
“For being weird the other day,” Buck says. “Accusing you of being–I don’t know–”
“Hey, hey, you didn’t accuse me of anything,” Eddie cuts him off, a confused half-smile trying to soften the wrinkle of concern between his eyebrows.
“No, I did.” Buck’s desperate gaze finally meet his, and now Eddie’s really worried. “I basically said you were doing something stupid a-and being reckless–”
“Okay, stop,” Eddie says firmly. “You didn’t really say any of that, and if you did–well, I don’t blame you. You were concerned–”
“I wasn’t though, I was just acting out because I felt jea–threatened.”
“Threatened?” Eddie says, tone rising, because for a second he’s so baffled he’s almost outraged. Outraged that anyone could think that this Buck-shaped space Eddie’s carved out in his life could be filled by anyone else. But quickly he remembers–
“Yeah,” Buck continues, voice shaky. “I was upset that you didn’t tell me first a-and then–I didn’t even realize at the time, but I was freaking out that you met someone new that–that you liked, that you were gonna spend a lot of time with, that could become a–your friend and I know it’s so–”
It’s not anyone. It’s Buck. Eddie knows him, knows the things that gnaw at him. “No, it’s fine.”
“Huh?”
“You were about to say it’s stupid or whatever, I don’t wanna hear it,” he says, leaning forwards, getting as close as the table between them will allow. “You’re forgiven, even though I was never mad.” He leans back now, arms crossed, taking on as casual a pose as can for the next part. “And I’m sorry too.”
Buck frowns. “What are you sorry for?”
“Okay, well, first of all, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Eddie says, ticking it off on his fingers. “And then I’m sorry for getting defensive about not telling you, and I’m definitely sorry for bringing up–”
“Okay, that’s–” Buck’s hand flies out, like he can physically stop Eddie from saying it.
Eddie doesn’t say it. He settles on, “no, really, that was out of line. And you were right–I should’ve told you. I just, you know, the dating thing is getting to be kind of a touchy subject.” He grimaces, looks away for a second to pick up a napkin. He’s still tearing at it when he renews eye contact. “It’s freaking me out, okay? But I don’t want you to feel like I’m hiding things from you. I mean, I was, but–you get it.”
Buck nods slowly.“Okay. Apology a–”
“No, I’m not done,” Eddie cuts in, again. “I’m also sorry about how the whole fake dating talk went down at the firehouse. With the team, I mean.”
Buck, trying to finally get a taco into his mouth and probably running out of ways to express confusion at how this conversation is going, just tilts his head at him. Eddie doesn’t bother biting back a smile at the sight.
“It got out of hand–you know, Chimney with his movie talk, blowing it way out of proportion,” Eddie says. “They just–I could see everyone making a bigger deal out of it than it needed to be. And I could tell you were–” He scrunches up his face, wondering if the specifics even matter. “I don’t know, just not happy with it. I should’ve–”
“Eddie, come on, that wasn’t your fault,” Buck says, half-laughing, half-gaping at him.
“I should’ve been clear, okay? Especially with you. I’m not running off to act out some stupid rom-com with Felisa. And, so we’re absolutely clear, whatever it is that I am doing, there’s no replacing you, alright?” He leans across the table again, holding Buck’s gaze like a vise. “Even if Felisa does end up taking me to do Hollywood shit–as arm candy or as a friend or anything–this is still where I want to be.” He slaps the table, like he would Buck’s shoulder if they were standing close. “I mean–not necessarily here-here, but–got it?”
“Yeah,” Buck says, a small smile beginning to grow on his face. That’s it. That’s what Eddie wanted.
“I mean, for starters, I’ve already had enough of all that and all I did was spend one morning taking selfies,” Eddie jokes.
“Okay, good,” Buck says, “you know–I was spiraling so hard that I was actually starting to freak out that you were gonna leave the 118 to become a male model or something.”
“Jesus. Okay.” Eddie takes a moment to try and map out Buck’s train of thought. It’s probably not worth rehashing. "So you agree I have the looks for that?”
“Okay, you know perfectly well–actually, you know what, I don’t think someone wearing my old sweaty workout gear should be that cocky about their appearance,” Buck says, with that roguish grin back on and a mocking nod towards Eddie’s attire.
“It’s mostly a smell problem, you said it yourself–hey, now that we’re done, you wanna follow me to my house?” If Buck notices that Eddie’s food has mostly gone untouched throughout their conversation, he doesn’t say anything. He does, however, attempt to hold back a laugh as Eddie shovels as much of his lunch in his mouth as he can in one go. “And we can go pick up Christopher?”
“Definitely,” Buck says. “Mostly so you can change–”
“Enough about this,” Eddie says as he rises from the table, and they make their way out.
“Are you actually gonna give it back now?” Buck asks while Eddie walks him to his Jeep.
“I dunno,” Eddie teases with a lazy shrug. “I’m attached.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Buck bumps his shoulder into his. “I ordered a new one, anyway–assumed you threw it away.”