Revved

by Naomi Niles

  Then I grabbed my keys and headed to my pick-up. I had traded in my old vehicle for the pick up a few weeks ago and found it suited me well. It was bigger and more impressive, and the backseat was spacious enough for a good comfortable fuck with the right hot stranger.

  I pulled up outside the fire station to see Jackson walking in with a young guy in uniform. The young guy’s face and stance suggested he was a rookie. I parked quickly and walked into the station, tailing Jackson and eavesdropping on the conversation.

  “How old are you, Hamish?” Jackson asked, with brotherly concern.

  I smirked at the name, already thinking up a hundred different jokes to throw at the kid.

  “I’m twenty,” he replied, as though he wasn’t really sure himself. “Just about.”

  “Just about?” Jackson asked, with one raised eyebrow.

  “I will be,” he replied quickly. “Next week.”

  “Well, then…this is your birthday week,” Jackson said, in complete seriousness.

  Hamish looked as though he wasn’t sure if Jackson were joking or not. I suppressed the laugh in my gut, knowing Jackson was building up to something. This was protocol, at least for Jackson and I. This was how we welcomed in the new recruits. Hazing was just part and parcel of joining the academy. And in my opinion, you weren’t really a fire fighter until you’d been initiated.

  “I… Yes… I suppose so,” Hamish nodded.

  Jackson clapped him on the back. “Well in that case, let me give you some advice.”

  “Sure,” Hamish nodded emphatically. “I’d really appreciate any advice you’re willing to give me.”

  I smiled at his enthusiasm, but hung back a little, waiting to see what Jackson had thought up.

  “What’s that scent I smell on you?” he asked.

  Hamish’s eyebrows wrinkled together in confusion. “Umm…what?”

  “I can smell something on you… Is that scented soap?” Jackson asked seriously.

  “I… Well…”

  “I’m going to be straight with you,” he said, and his expression was Oscar-worthy. “The chief has a real problem with scented soap. It’s kind of a pet peeve of his. I don’t know if he’s allergic or just fussy, but he hates when any of us guys use any kind of scented soap. He can smell it on us a mile away.”

  “Uh…really?” Hamish asked, sounding surprised but terrified.

  “Oh yeah,” he nodded. “Now you look really snazzy in your uniform, but I’m afraid that you’re not going to impress the chief, smelling like you do.”

  “I… Maybe I can walk off the smell?” Hamish suggested. “I don’t think it’s that prominent a smell, in any case.”

  I popped around the corner and waved to Jackson as though I’d just walked in. “Hi, man,” I greeted. “Any news?”

  “Nothing yet,” he replied, his eyes twinkling. “Just giving the new kid a little pep talk.”

  I turned to Hamish and stretched my hand out to him. “Welcome to the force… Oh…”

  “What’s wrong?” Hamish asked immediately.

  “Is that scented soap I smell?” I asked.

  Jackson kept his face straight. “That was just what I was trying to tell our new friend here… The chief hates the smell of scented soap. And if you can smell it on him-”

  “The chief definitely will,” I nodded. “That’s for sure.”

  “What do I do?” Hamish asked, finally convinced. “I really want to make a good first impression.”

  “Don’t worry, kid,” I said, clapping him on the back. “We’ll sort you out.”

  “You will? How?”

  “The showers are just around back,” Jackson stepped in. “The soap on hand is completely unscented. Just take another shower, wash that scent off of you, and you’ll be good to go.”

  “Oh,” Hamish said, sounding relieved. “Okay, let’s do that, then.”

  “Great,” Jackson nodded. “Follow me.”

  We led him to the locker rooms where the showers were located and gestured for him to strip down and get “clean.” The moment he stepped into the shower and pulled the curtain across, Jackson and I grabbed his clothes and headed back into the locker rooms. Mitch and Sean were there, and they shook their heads as we walked in.

  “Don’t tell me…we have a new fire fighter?” Sean asked.

  Jackson and I burst out laughing. “You should have seen his face when we told him…him…about the…scented…soap.”

  “That excuse was fucking insane,” I laughed.

  “He bought it, though,” Jackson crowed.

  “I’m the one who sold it,” I said.

  “I’m all for hazing,” Sean laughed. “But this one’s unoriginal. Stealing his clothes? Come on, boys, you can do better than that.”

  “Say what you want,” Jackson said, “There are some pranks that are too classic to retire. And in this case, it’s downright genius.”

  “Why?” Sean asked.

  “Because the chief is coming in today,” Jackson laughed. “By my count, he should be heading over here as we speak. Which means-”

  “Hamish is going to make one hell of a first impression,” I finished for Jackson.

  “Exactly,” he choked on his own laugh. “He’s going balls in.”

  “You little shitters are evil – but effective,” Sean said.

  We were still laughing as the rest of the team filtered in slowly. We had barely got our explanation out when the chief walked in and everyone descended into a respectful silence.

  Chief Shelby wasn’t a particularly large man, but he had an intimidating presence. Perhaps it was the strange intensity of his blue eyes or the impressive width of his shoulders, but he just exuded power.

  He had just finished his briefing when a voice from the shower rooms interrupted him.

  “Hello?” Hamish’s voice was uncertain and nervous. “Anyone?”

  Jackson suppressed a laugh, but didn’t reply. A moment later, Hamish stepped into the locker room. He was butt naked, dripping wet and completely pale. His hands cupped his balls to hide them from view, and he looked positively petrified as he took in the full locker room he was faced with.

  His eyes went to Jackson first and then, as if by instinct, they landed on the chief. “I… I…”

  “You are Hamish Anderson?” Chief Shelby asked.

  “Yes,” Hamish nodded.

  Chief narrowed his eyes and took a step forward. “What the hell are you doing, boy?” he asked, in his usual gruff voice.

  Hamish looked as though he wanted to throw up, but never once mentioned my name or Jackson’s. “I… I just…took a shower, sir,” he stammered.

  “I can see that,” the chief replied. “I want to know why.”

  “I…needed to…get rid of the soap smell.”

  Chief Shelby’s eyebrows hit the roof of his head, and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. “You needed to get rid of the soap smell?” he repeated.

  “I mean, the scented soap smell,” Hamish said quickly, as though that explained everything.

  I glanced over at Jackson and I could tell from his face that he was doing his best to keep a straight face.

  “What the hell are you on about, boy?” Chief barked.

  “I… I was told that you hated the smell of scented soap, and that I would benefit from…a shower,” Hamish stuttered through his explanation. It was clear, that as he was saying the words he was starting to realize how ridiculous it all sounded.

  The chief’s expression seemed to smooth out with understanding, but his face remained stern and forceful. “I see… Well, in the future, it would serve you well to remember not to believe everything you’re told. Now I have a briefing to continue, and I’m going to get on with it.”

  “I… Sir?” Hamish’s voice was small.

  “Yes?”

  “May I put on some clothes first?”

  “No, you may not,” Chief Shelby replied sharply. “You will stand there naked until I have finished with my brief
ing. Consider this your official initiation into the force.”

  To his credit, Hamish stood there for the remaining ten minutes of the chief’s briefing and suffered through the suppressed smiles and pointed looks from every fire fighter on the team. When it was done, Jackson and I were about ready to gloat when Chief doubled back and looked directly at the two of us.

  “Neilson,” he said. “Burbank. My office – now.”

  We exchanged a glance and followed him to his office on the opposite end of the station. We walked inside and shut the door behind us. Chief Shelby walked to his desk, sat down behind it and then stared at us for a full five seconds before he spoke.

  “I wanted to let you two know that you’ve done a good job lately,” he said, much to my surprise. “I don’t know how, but someone you’ve managed to become one of the best search and rescue teams on staff.”

  “Thank you so much, sir-”

  “Cut the choir boy act, Neilson,” Chief interrupted. “You two may be my best fire fighters, but you’re also my biggest jokers. And that can lead to trouble. So stop the high school crap and get serious. You understand me?”

  “We just thought we’d…welcome him properly to the academy, sir,” I said sheepishly.

  I could see the chief suppress his smile right on time. “Save that for your personal time,” he replied. “When you’re at the station, you are always on duty. Got it?”

  “Got it, sir,” I nodded immediately.

  “Excellent,” Chief Shelby nodded. “Now get the hell out of my office, both of you. Oh, and boys?”

  “Yes, sir?” Jackson turned back to ask.

  “Give the kid his clothes back.”

  “Yes, sir,” he nodded with a smile.

  We headed back to the locker room in fits of laughter. Hamish was darting around trying to find his clothes. Someone had lent him a towel, but he didn’t seem overly comforted by that.

  “Hamish, my boy,” Jackson said. “What a great start to your birthday week!”

  He turned to us and shook his head. “I was an idiot to have believed that nonsense.”

  “You were,” I nodded. “But in your defence, it’s easy to manipulate someone who’s so nervous. But you know the good news, right?”

  HE looked at me suspiciously. “What?”

  “You are officially initiated,” I said. “Welcome to the team.”

  Jackson got out Hamish’s clothes and handed them over. “You are now a true fire fighter,” he said.

  Hamish hesitated a moment and then smiled. “The hazing is over?”

  Jackson and I exchanged a glance and laughed. “The hazing’s over,” I confirmed.

  Hamish’s face smoothed out into relief and a moment later, the alarm sounded through the building, alerting us to a new emergency in some part of town.

  “That’s us,” I said immediately, springing into action. I turned to Hamish and clapped him on the back. “Suit up, rookie, this is going to be the true initiation. We’re going in.”

  Chapter Two

  Mia

  “Renni?” I called, looking back over my shoulder.

  There was no answer. I decided to finish making the pancakes before I went in to check on her. A large square window had been placed directly over my sink, and I glanced outside with a sense of nostalgic wistfulness. I remembered when we had first bought this house. It was a tiny two-bedroom that we could barely afford, but with hard work and determination, Clint and I had managed to pay off the loan.

  I popped the finished pancakes onto a flat plate and placed it on the table, next to the maple syrup and butter. Then I got the strawberries and orange juice out from the fridge and set them on the table, too. I was just about to wash the frying pan when Renni walked into the kitchen with her backpack.

  I turned to her and surveyed her chosen outfit for the day. I rarely had to help her get dressed anymore. She was a self-sufficient child who liked being independent. Half the time, though, I suspected she did it because she felt it gave me a little free time here and there.

  “There you are, pumpkin,” I said. “I like your outfit.”

  Renni was a carbon copy of myself, which was what my mom had said ever since Renni was a year old and her features had become more definitive. She had lush hair that was a deep and uninterrupted brown, and her eyes were a pale shade of green that reflected mine exactly. She had a small button nose and ears that stuck out a bit. The only thing she had really inherited from her father was the shape of her face, which was slightly long compared to the oval-shaped face I had inherited from my own father.

  This morning, Renni had chosen to wear a white t-shirt stamped all over with little pink hearts. She had paired it with denim overalls and her favorite blue sneakers. She had also attempted to do her hair, but her attempts had obviously been only semi successful. I smiled at the knots I could see, but didn’t comment immediately.

  “Thank you,” she said solemnly.

  She had always been an old soul. She was a small-made child, but when you spoke to her, people always assumed she was older. She just had that kind of air about her.

  “Can I help with breakfast?” she asked.

  I smiled. “I would have loved the help,” I replied. “But I just finished breakfast.”

  “You did?”

  “Uh huh,” I nodded. “Chocolate pancakes with maple syrup and strawberries. What do you think?”

  Renni gave me a heartfelt smile. “Yummy,” she said.

  “I agree,” I nodded. “Yummy. Shall we eat?”

  “We should wash up first,” she said, eyeing the dirty frying pan in my hand.

  “We could always wash up after?” I suggested.

  Renni contemplated that for a moment. “Better to do it before,” she said.

  I smiled at her adult-like manner as she stepped towards the kitchen table and dragged a chair to the sink so that she could get up on top of it to wash her hands.

  “I can wash the frying pan, too,” she said, reaching out for it.

  I thought about turning her down, but I knew how much she liked to help. She had always been a caring girl, and that attribute had only heightened after Clint’s accident.

  “Alright,” I agreed, handing her the pan.

  I stood by the sink and watched as she scrubbed it clean. She had observed me over the years and mimicked my movements exactly. Once the pan was clean, she handed it to me to set on the drying rack.

  “Is there anything else?” she asked.

  “I think that’s it for now,” I told her. “Time to eat.”

  Renni nodded, and I helped her down from the chair before she dragged it back to the table. I sat down opposite her and gave her a small wink. “You all ready for school?” I asked.

  “Yup,” she replied. “I put my notebook and my colored pencils in my backpack, and I brushed my teeth real good.”

  “That’s my girl,” I smiled. “I see you did your hair, too.”

  Instinctively, Renni’s hand went up to her head. She glanced at me. “It’s a little bumpy up there,” she said sheepishly.

  I suppressed the urge to giggle. “Would you like me to help you with it?” I asked, leaving the choice up to her.

  She smiled. “Yes, please.”

  I nodded and headed to my bathroom for a comb to run through Renni’s hair. When I got back to the kitchen, she was breaking up a pancake into little pieces with her hands. That was how she ate her pancakes. First she tore it up, then she added the maple syrup over the pieces, and then she picked up her fork.

  I moved my chair a little, so that it was placed right behind her, and unwound her hair from the knot she had made with her rubber band. Her long brown hair came loose and cascaded down her back. I had kept her hair short as a baby, but after Renni had turned two, she had decided that she wanted long hair like mine. I was proud of the fact that she had a mind of her own.

  I gave her a little kiss on the top of her head before I started combing out the knots in her hair. It was amazing h
ow she had managed to do all of them in one sitting. I smoothed out her hair as painlessly as possible and when it was silky straight again, I leaned in and looked down at Renni.

  “Would you like a simple ponytail?” I asked. “Or maybe some braids?”

  She was craning her head upwards to look at me. I resisted the urge to bite her little button nose. “Braids, please,” she replied excitedly.

  “You got it,” I nodded, turning my attention back to her hair.

  Renni was halfway done with her pancake when I finished her hair. Now it hung in two neat little braids over both her shoulders. She looked so darn cute that I was forced to give her another little kiss before I turned to my own breakfast. I served myself some yogurt and then ate it with the strawberries. By the time I was finished, Renni was, too.

  “I can wash your bowl, too, Mommy,” she said, reaching for my dish.

  “No, darling, you don’t have to.”

  “I don’t mind,” she said generously.

  “How did I get so lucky?” I smiled, handing her my dish.

  I watched as she dragged over the chair, got up onto it, and started washing our plates. I took a moment to appreciate the sight. I rarely had the time to just stare at her lately. The firm kept me so busy that I found myself losing out on time. It seemed like just yesterday that Renni was a chubby little infant with tufts of uneven hair growing in patches around her head. Now, she was a fully functioning little person with thoughts and opinions of her own. It floored me every time I thought about it.

  We spent the ten-minute drive to Renni’s kindergarten talking about the leaf project her teacher had assigned the class for that week. I pulled up outside the quaint little school and helped Renni out of the backseat.

  “It’s okay, Mommy,” she said gently, without taking my hand. “I can manage by myself.”

  “Yes, of course,” I nodded, suppressing a smile.

  It was just like Renni to speak like that. She often parroted phrases that adults used, or more specifically, phrases that she heard Vanessa and I using. She unbuckled her seat and got out of the car without a problem. Then she grabbed her backpack and checked to make sure her shoelaces were tied. She had learnt to tie them over a year ago, and she did a better job than I could have.