Playing with Fire

Playing with Fire

The 2nd of July

         "Have a safe and happy July 4th," Bob Carter said as he ushered the last of the employees from the eighteenth floor offices of the twenty-five story building owned and named after his father-in-law, J.C. (Jug) Shiner.

         Jug Shiner's name and wealth were associated with a consortium of various businesses, not the least of which was his major league football franchise, the San Antonio Texans. It was his interest in football, be it high school, college or professional, that led to his becoming Bob Carter's father-in-law.

         He followed Carter's outstanding quarterback career through high school, a career that virtually assured Carter a full athletic scholarship at the college of his choice, and, when the time came, Shiner approached the young man to attend his old Alma Mater, the Texas College of Agriculture and Business.

         Although Carter's dream was to attend and play ball for U.S.C., he found Shiner to be most persuasive. Money, something Carter was unaccustomed to, was no object. A guaranteed starting position as quarterback with Shiner's pro team if his college performance matched his high school stats was the carrot that convinced Carter to put his future in Shiner's hands.

         And he didn't let Shiner down, setting records for pass completions and yardage gained in the air and, due to his unusual size for a quarterback, on the ground, as well. Carter's size and speed was always commented upon by the media, as were his movie star good looks.

         Standing nearly six inches over six foot tall, and weighing a muscular two hundred and seventy-five pounds, many a defensive lineman found their butts firmly planted on the artificial turf after attempting a half-hearted tackle on the bulldozing Carter.

         Big, but possessed of a generous, gentle nature, Carter was one of those rare men who other men admitted was a damned good-looking sonovabitch -- and women worshiped him.

         But Shiner made certain the host of females passing through Carter's bedroom were of the paid variety, and not the sort with whom Carter would form any lasting or serious relationships. Indeed, Shiner had other plans for Bob Carter's future.

         Melissa Shiner was an unfortunate girl, having inherited the bulk of her genes from her father. Short, stout, with a wide chin and close-set, vaguely blue eyes, the only male attention she attracted came as a result of her father's wealth.

         But that changed when Shiner introduced his daughter to Bob Carter. No one knew the promises Shiner made to the young athlete, or the dollar amount he placed on his daughter's happiness but, before long, Bob and Melissa became an item, attending all the "right" social functions arm-in-arm. Melissa found herself with a "trophy" escort.

         Their engagement was announced at the end of Carter's senior year, with the wedding date set two weeks preceding the beginning of The San Antonio Texan's training camp.

         The wedding was a masterpiece of over-indulgence, costing Jug Shiner in excess of fifty-thousand dollars. It was worth every cent to him, to see the radiant smile on his daughter's otherwise plain face. As a bonus, it seemed that Bob Carter really returned Melissa's love.

         Fate, however, still had cards to deal. After an excellent showing in training camp, legitimately winning the starting quarterback position over his two rivals, Bob Carter went down in the third quarter of the first pre-season game. One of his own teammates stumbled and plowed into the outside of Carter's right knee, crumpling it inward, tearing ligaments, cartilage, and displacing the kneecap. Carter's football career ended in a split second of wrenching, blinding pain. Otherwise, he was still a trophy husband.

         With his football days behind him, it was fortunate that Carter had also excelled academically in his college years. Armed with a degree in Business Administration and the savvy of a quarterback, along with an outgoing personality, the legend of his unbroken college football records and an imposing, honest handshake, Carter took up the reins of Jug Shiner's nationwide transportation business. Within three years the company was showing previously unheard of profits.

         Melissa and Bob also gave Shiner two adorable grandsons so, despite his disappointment with Carter's injury, Shiner was a happy man.

The 3rd of July

         People with wealth can pick strange hobbies and hire the best teachers. For two decades Jug Shiner put on the biggest July 4th fireworks display for hundreds of miles around his San Antonio mansion. Intrigued at how the fireworks were made, how the different designs and colors were made to happen, Shiner hired experts to teach him the art. He made his own fireworks until Bob Carter came along, then passed down the techniques and tradition to his son-in-law.

         A large workshop on the mansion grounds housed the equipment: black powder, various propellants and the chemicals, aluminum, magnesium, titanium, barium chloride, copper chloride, charcoal and stabilizing agents necessary to produce colors with the volatile, sometimes unstable, ingredients. It was there that Bob Carter toiled on the day before Independence Day, carefully preparing the hundreds of fireworks for the big extravaganza.

         He carefully measured chemicals, and packed them inside metal cylinders with the proper amount of propellant for height, spread, shape, and colors desired. Almost finished, and looking forward to a cold drink and a dip in the olympic-sized pool before dinner, Carter heard the door open behind him.

         Melissa stood in the doorway, Bob Junior held riding high on her hip, his left thumb securely inserted into his mouth. The child's eyes brightened when he saw his father. "Are you going to be much longer, hon?" Melissa asked. "Dinner will be served in about forty-five minutes."

         Carter dusted his hands together and wiped sweat from his forehead with a hairy forearm. "Twenty minutes or so, Mel. I'd sure like to have a quick swim before I shower and dress for dinner."

         "I'll stall if I have to. You know how my mom is about punctuality," Melissa sighed. "You be careful, OK? I don't know why we have to do this ourselves every year. I always worried about Dad, and now he's passed the torch to you."

         Bob laughed. "Passing the torch isn't a comforting mental image while surrounded with explosives and unstable chemicals!"

         "Oops! Guess not," Melissa said, smiling, and shifting Bob Junior to a more comfortable position. "I'll see you at the house."

         Bob nodded, and turned back to the long workbench as the door closed. Although infrequent, sometimes Bob's injured knee gave out, causing him to grab for something to hold on to to keep from falling. The knee picked that moment to snap and fold, and Bob lurched forward.

         His large hands slipped across the top of the workbench, scattering canisters and bottles of chemicals. Several chemicals came together on the bench top and, before Bob could do more than wince, the chemicals reacted together. First only a wisp of smoke rose above the mixture. Then a flash of fire burst upward, followed by an ear-splitting, ground-shaking explosion.

         Thirty yards away, Melissa and Bob Junior were flung to the manicured grass by the force of the blast. Unharmed, Melissa cradled her child to her breast as the evening sky lit up with blooms and blossoms of fireworks whistling and zipping in every direction. The workshop, she saw, was gone -- the walls thrown outward by the explosion. Only a roaring fire and the burst of fireworks remained to mark its place. "Bob," she sobbed quietly. "Bob."

The 4th of July

         Bob Carter lay in a hospital bed, swathed in bandages, unconscious. Only the machines beeping and buzzing beside the bed were proof he still lived. Found ten feet from the foundation of the workshop, barely alive, Bob was helicoptered to a world famous Houston hospital specializing in burn cases.

         Although badly burned on his face and arms, the burns were only the tip of his injury iceberg. His right eye was gone, pierced by shards of glass and splinters of wood. His strong hands no longer resembled hands. The right one was blown away just above his wrist; the left was missing the thumb and all but a portion of his ring finger and pinkie.

         Melissa Shiner-Carter sat slumped in an uncomfortable, straight-backed chair, her arms folded on the bed at Bob's side, her head resting upon them. A slight motion yanked her from a horrible dream and she opened her eyes wide. Something brushed her temple. Sitting up, she saw that Bob's disfigured left hand must have been caressing her face.

         His uninjured left eye peered at her from the bandages. His burn swollen lips moved and a ragged sound hissed from his throat. Melissa reached for the buzzer, to summon a nurse, but Bob's head rocked from side to side. "Not yet," he mumbled. "Want to tell . . ." He cringed with pain, but continued, " . . . tell you I love you."

         Tears sprung from Melissa's eyes and traced watery paths through her make-up. "Shhh. Let me call the nurse."

         "I'm not a trophy anymore, Mel," Bob breathed, his chest heaving as a single tear moistened the bandages beneath his eye.

         Melissa placed her fingertip to his dry lips. "Like I'm anything to write home about?" she said, trying to smile. "Do you think I don't know my father bought you for me? His poor homely daughter, who couldn't catch a man with her beauty, suddenly being wooed by the Adonis football star? I'm not stupid, Bob."

         "Do you know how much he offered?" Bob asked, then named the figure.

         "Oh, God! That much? No wonder you couldn't refuse!" Melissa said, shaking her head in disgust at her father's manipulations.

         Bob licked his cracked lips and coughed. "I told him . . ." A series of phlegmy coughs shook his body. " . . . told him to shove it up his fat, rich butt. I didn't take a cent from him. I -- I wanted you to know that, Mel, in case I . . ."

         Melissa hugged her husband gingerly, her heart filled with love for him, more so than ever before. "You're going to be fine, Honey. You have a wife and kids who need you, and a father-in-law with enough money to provide you with the best treatment and rehabilitation anyone can buy."

         Finally pushing the buzzer for a nurse, Melissa leaned forward and kissed Bob's quivering lips. "You may be a little dented, Bob Carter -- but you'll always be my trophy."

The End