The moment her purse hit the coffee table, her cat came ambling out from the bedroom. Weasley was an orange huge beast of a cat, and no matter how hard work had been, he always managed to bring a smile to Charlotte’s face. Her mother was found of saying Weasley looked like he ate small children in his spare time, but Charlotte just rolled her eyes and ignored her. He was just big boned. And true, his face was scrunched up in a way that made those not accustomed to his unique personality take a step or two back. But really, he was a sweetheart, if only with his human.
“Hey Weezey, how was your night honey?” She leaned over, scratching behind his ears to see if he would willingly allow her to pick him up this morning. Apparently in a good mood, he tilted his head into her palm and purred a low rumble. “That good, huh?”
She circled her hands under his pleasantly plump stomach and hoisted him up into her arms, rubbing her cheek against the soft fur at the back of his neck, sighing in relief at finally being in her comfort zone.
“You hungry?”
Weasley let out a baleful meow in response, perfectly communicating his displeasure with having to wait an extra few hours for his meal.
As Charlotte toed off her flats and made her way to the kitchen, she once again thanked her ex-therapist for the suggestion of getting a pet to help with her shyness. She was fairly certain the older woman meant a dog, and meant it to get Charlotte out of the apartment more. But when she went to the pound to look at puppies, Weasley caught her eye first. The staff had let him wander around in the office, and as she sat filling out the paperwork for a background check, the cat trudged up and plopped himself right on her foot, looking at her as if she needed to do his bidding immediately or suffer the consequences. Charlotte never looked back.
Weasley sat patiently as Charlotte emptied two cans of wet food into his bowl and topped it with a little shredded cheese. Okay, he might be slightly spoiled.
Once the cat was content eating his meal, Charlotte made her way into the bedroom. Despite the exhaustion weighing down her limbs, she couldn’t resist checking in on the message board she had been frequenting for years. She curled up in the large club chair she’d found at a garage sale after first moving to the area and fired up her laptop. A yawn crept out of her before she could stop it.
The moment she logged onto “The Young and The Anxious,” she smiled at seeing all the messages from her fellow anxiety riddled twenty somethings. She’d discovered the website a few years before when trolling the internet for tips on how to date while dealing with several shyness. Instead of tips, she found a community of her people. They were all fairly young, mostly single, and all dealt with anxiety in one form or another. Her issues were mild compared to the others on the boards, but she still grappled with them each day.
She clicked in and out of conversation threads, lending support where needed, weighing in with opinions, and updating everyone on her life. Though there wasn’t much to update. Soon a private message box popped on her screen, and her smile widened when she saw her best friend’s screen name.
TattedFreak: Hey there, girlie. How you doing?
Kym, otherwise known as TattedFreak, had been the first person Charlotte ever really felt comfortable with. They bonded online over their mutual love for Harry Potter and Charlotte’s fascination with tattoos.
Weasley’sBitch: Doing ok, tired after working 14 hours. How are you?
TattedFreak: Awesome, I get to ink my favorite girl this weekend.
The smile on Charlotte’s face inched up, nearly making her cheeks hurt. She’d been an ink virgin when she first talked to Kym, but soon the woman had convinced Charlotte to come to her tattoo shop and get inked for the first time. Kym dealt with a combination of agoraphobia, anxiety attacks, and PTSD after her time as a too young bride being beaten by her husband. She’d escaped his clutches at the age of twenty, and after being homeless for a time, got taken in by a tattoo artist who taught her the trade. Now Kym was one of the most sought out tattoo artists in Pittsburgh. She got booked months in advance and brought in well over six figures each year.
But she never charged Charlotte, and always shut the shop down so that they would be alone during their sessions. No one knew about Charlotte’s tattoo addiction, not even her parents. She had one large back piece that they had been working on for a year, and another smaller tattoo on her hip. All places she could easily cover up.
Something about the combination of the sting of the needle, the buzz of the machine, and the calming influence of her best friend made the whole experience almost zen like for Charlotte. She went to another place while being tattooed, someplace where no one judged her and she didn’t second guess everything she felt. It was a place just for her. Plus, she got a beautiful piece of artwork permanently etched on her body after.
Weasley’sBitch: I can’t wait. I can’t believe my back will be done after this.
TattedFreak: Believe it. Then we get to start on your arms. I’m already brainstorming ideas. You’re my favorite canvas. All that perfect pale skin.
Charlotte blushed, even though the compliment was something she’d heard from Kym often enough it shouldn’t have that effect on her anymore.
Weasley’sBitch: Well, I’m glad my pasty skin makes someone happy ;) I’ll see you Saturday. I’m going to catch some sleep before I need to be back at work.
TattedFreak: Ok, sounds good. TTYL
Just as Charlotte was about to close the internet browser, the memory of Trey’s deep voice echoed through her mind. Never had she been so instantly turned on by something as innocent as a voice. Just thinking about it sent a punch of intense arousal straight through her core.
She glared at the computer screen and the blinking cursor in the Google search bar. If there was one skill she had perfected as the WQUZ overnight assignment editor, it was her superior cyber stalking skills. A full name wasn’t even needed to be able to track down her unknowing victims. Usually, she reserved the odd skill to tracking down photos of the scumbags getting arrested for crimes in the city when their mug shot wasn’t available yet.
But maybe an exception could be made just this once. Curiosity about what the man that could match that bass voice and intoxicating chuckle ate at her. What harm would it be?
Only knowing his first name was no problem. In fact, she decided to not even bother starting with him per se. Typing in a search for the Pittsburgh Fire Department zone 7, Charlotte held her breath waiting for the results to pop up. Thankfully there were only three fire stations in zone seven, which would make her job much easier. Two of the stations had their own Facebook pages. She clicked on both the links, opening them in new tabs.
The first didn’t have much content. Their location, phone number and a couple generic photos for the profile and cover photos were about it. But the other one held much more promise. Someone at Station 12 knew a little something about social media. The page was updated almost every day with a mix of fire safety tips, community events, and behind the scenes glimpses in the fire house.
Charlotte scrolled through the fire station’s timeline, looking at each picture featuring firefighters, checking out the tags to see if any included a man by the name of Trey. It didn’t take long until she found him, not a picture, though, a video. She stared at the screen, her finger hovering over the touchpad mouse. Should she watch it?
So many emotions warred through her system. Apprehension at what she might find, that the man she had pictured in her mind would be tainted by whatever was on the video. Excitement that he might be even better than she had pictured. Shame for so blatantly invading a man’s privacy. A man she had only talked to for a few minutes.
But curiosity won in the end, and she clicked the play icon. The shaky cellphone video seemed to have been shot in a toy store around Christmas time. Several firefighters and police officers wandered through the aisles with children of all ages excitedly tagging along beside them.
