Pin-Up Fireman

by Vonnie Davis

  “Graci-Ella did you measure the captain yet? Why don’t you do that while Kissy Lips thinks of a suitable apology?”

  “I’ll kill you, you big bastard,” Darryl spat.

  Boyd spared him a glare. “Yeah, you work on that.”

  The captain, dressed again after being measured, stroked and purred over by Graci-Ella, stalked toward Boyd and raised his eyebrows. “Did this mouthy kid think of a request for forgiveness yet? Oh, did I overhear you talking to your babysitter about Matt’s temperature earlier?”

  “Yeah,” He ran a hand across the back of his neck, squeezing the tight muscles. His knee was still on Darryl’s neck as he struggled to get away from Boyd. “We’ll know after the doctor visit. Aunt Jinny’s going to call as soon as his office opens. Same old asthmatic symptoms.”

  The captain leaned over. “I’ll take care of numb nuts here. Thanks for keeping him under control.” Boyd pivoted his knee off the young man’s neck and the captain jerked Darryl onto his feet.

  Graci-Ella sat on an empty chair next to Boyd. “Thanks for staying.”

  The captain had Darryl by the scruff of the neck. “State your apology, Weir.”

  His glance shot daggers at Boyd before he glanced at Graci-Ella. “I’m sorry for calling you a bitch. Can I still be in the calendar?”

  “It is my choice who does and who doesn’t go into the calendar. I’m focusing on the heroes of this unit. Neither your behavior nor your remarks strike me as especially heroic.” She exhaled a sigh. “Look, I’m doing this project on my time, for free.” She stared him down. “What hours I spend here, I have to make up for on my regular job. I’m a lawyer. Believe me, I have no problem with saying no to someone with anger management issues.”

  His face reddened with rage before he turned and ran his fist into the side of the refrigerator, cursing and throwing a tantrum. The captain ordered Wolf and Quinn to take Darryl to the equipment room to scrub down the fire trucks until he worked off some steam. They each grabbed an arm and dragged Darryl down the steps to the garage area.

  “This is what happens when you get stuck with the Fire Chief’s nephew. I’m going to have to walk through burning coals to fire his ass. But it looks like I’m going to have to call the boss this morning and explain how unsuitable the kid is. He’s plain spoiled. Zero self-control Graci-Ella, I apologize for his behavior. I really do.” The captain strode into his office.

  She smiled at Boyd, and his mind damn near went blank for a minute. Her pen tapped against her paper. “I’ve decided to use everyone’s nickname instead of their real names. I think it’ll add a bit of humor and charm to the calendar. Plus, it’ll help keep all the men more anonymous.” She placed her warm hand on his wrist. “That should also help alleviate any remaining concerns you might be harboring about the project.”

  She leaned toward him and he got a stronger whiff of her perfume. Holy hell, I want to run my nose all over her body.

  Boyd shook his head a couple times to clear out the sensual fog. “I thought I made it plain. Guess I didn’t. You’ve got my mind all mixed up. I’m in on the calendar project. I gotta admit it was a hard decision to make. As I’ve told you, by their lifestyle, I think my ex-wife’s new love is selling or running some kind of a drug operation. I’ve got a private investigator on that aspect of her life. She can live it any way she wants. My main concern is how it could affect Matty.” He winced. “Sorry, he doesn’t like for me to call him that anymore. He says it’s ‘babyfied.’”

  She laughed, low and sultry. God, can this woman get any sexier? “Sounds like he’s growing up, Dad.”

  “I still slip and fall back into old habits.”

  His cell phone rang a loud beat. “Sorry, that’s Aunt Jinny’s ring.” He slipped his cell from his pocket. “Yeah. Okay, I’m on my way.” He disconnected the call. “It’s my son.” Boyd charged out of the dining room and the tap-tap of high heels followed him as he knocked on Captain Steele’s door.

  “Yeah? Come in.”

  Boyd pushed open the door. “Captain. Aunt Jinny just called. Matt’s having such a hard time breathing, his lips are turning blue. I’m taking him to the emergency room.”

  “Kid needs oxygen now, Tiny.” The captain spied Ivy Jo, part of one of the EMT teams, walking by and yelled for her and Jace to take an ambulance to pick-up Matt. Tiny jogged behind them to the apparatus storage area. Since the required equipment was always kept in the vehicles, all they had to do was open the garage door, hop in and haul ass.

  Graci-Ella was impressed with how quickly an ambulance could hit the streets, siren blaring. Captain Steele walked her to the coffee pot and poured them both a cup. “He’s got his hands full with his little boy, doesn’t he? He’s been telling me bits and pieces as we talk and grow closer.”

  The station chief poured some creamer into his coffee. “Yeah, the kid’s a charmer. Well behaved thanks to Tiny teaching him manners and telling him bad behavior is unacceptable.” The captain grinned and elbowed her. “But don’t let that fool you. That child has six-feet-eight of macho male wrapped around his little finger.”

  She took another sip of her coffee, surprised at how good it was. “Lucky kid.” She glanced at the captain, and they both laughed.

  “I’m glad to see he’s taken an interest in you. His first wife burned him pretty bad. The weekends he doesn’t have Matt, Tiny usually hangs out with some of the guys here at the squad. Basketball, beach volleyball or riding Harleys. Be nice for him to have someone special to join in the fun.”

  “I’ve never ridden a Harley or any type of motorcycle for that matter.”

  “I bet if you’d ask, he’d take you for a ride.” The captain smiled as he raised his cup to his lips.

  She shook her open hand in an erasing manner. “No. No. If he wants me to have it, he’ll give it to me.” Oh God, tell me the heat I’m feeling on my face is not something he can see because I wouldn’t mind Tiny giving me a good ride—motorcycle not mandatory. I’m awful. Just awful!

  The captain chuckled and shook his head. “Sorry to leave you, but I have to fill out paperwork on the use of the ambulance since we didn’t get a nine-one-one request for it. Call me when you want to start taking pictures of the men. I’m quite pleased with the idea. I’m proud of my group of firemen and firewomen.” He glanced at the dent in the refrigerator. “Well, except for one, who I’ve been ordered to give one more chance. I’m not in the best of moods over the Fire Chief’s orders.”

  “A decision like that could prove dangerous. I think the guy’s unstable.” She glanced at the large clock on the wall. “I better head into the office. Thank you for agreeing to all this.”

  “No problem. I’ve seen too many people lose everything in a fire or hurricane. The local food bank helps a lot of families.”

  Hurrying down the hallway to her office, the rolled carpet draped over one arm and her new desk lamp under her other, she was surprised to see the furniture she’d picked out yesterday setting outside her door. She placed the lamp and rug on top of the desk before walking into her cheery yellow office.

  “Wow, what a difference over that dreary beige!” She glanced at Jo-Jo, standing on a rung of a short ladder and installing her fan. The window was open to allow fresh air in to dispel the paint vapors. “I had no clue you could get all this done so quickly. It looks fabulous so far.”

  “You picking out a darker shade for the end wall with the window gives the optical illusion of a longer room. Good choice. We’ll clean the floor and move in your furniture. Then you can start organizing stuff the way you want it. By the end of the day, no one will recognize this ole closet.”

  Jo-Jo was right. While he mopped the tile floor, she hurried out to her car to bring in the pictures she wanted hung and her plants. She helped him carry in the desk furniture and place the rug before bringing in the leather club chairs.

  Jo-Jo slipped the hammer from his tool belt. “Now, show Ol’ Jo-Jo where you want these pictures. On the section of wall a
t either end of the long, narrow window, she wanted framed prints of two of her favorite Monet paintings—Irises and Wooded Scene. On the wall beside the clients’ chairs she wanted framed copies of her diplomas from University of Connecticut, Harvard School of Law, her basketball team at UConn after winning a National Championship, and one of her jumping, making a basket.

  “Think you can place them in a large square?”

  “Is this you, child?” Jo-Jo stared at the one of her shooting the basket.

  “I made All-American with that shot.” She elbowed him. “String music. What a night!”

  He smiled wide when he looked at her. “Well, I will be! As tall as you is, I shoulda figured you for an athlete and All-American too! Well, bless my stars.” He got his tape measure out to start marking where he’d hang them.

  Meanwhile, she lugged in her palm tree, remembering Boyd’s leaning over to place both the plant and the large pot in her car. She set it in the empty corner so she could look at it whenever she wanted. Dear God, he was a sexy man. Nice too. She unboxed her coat tree and screwed the sections together.

  Jo-Jo hung her two plants from the ceiling strips and declared his work done. “The rest is for you to do. Set up your computer, put away your books and files and set out the doo-dads you women like to have in your offices.”

  “Thank you. I really didn’t think it would all fit in here with room to move. You proved me wrong.”

  “Oh, yee of little faith…” he laughed and ambled up the hallway, pushing his cart holding a ladder, painting supplies and empty paint cans.

  By the time Graci-Ella left work that day, her office was up and running. Her files were neatly stored. Files for trials not yet held were stacked on the narrow unit. Shelves were filled with legal books, family pictures and basketball trophies. Everything was organized at last, just the way she liked it. In fact, she was so thrilled with the transformation of her little office, she almost hated to leave it.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Boyd’s aunt dropped him at the station about five hours later. He collapsed onto a chair at the large wooden dining room table, the heels of his hands over his eyes as he mentally shifted from scared dad to macho fireman. He took a deep shuddering breath and straightened. The crew had stopped their various chores to circle around him to ask about Matt. Someone set a cup of coffee in front of him. He gave a mock salute with it. “Thanks.”

  After a couple sips, he sat the cup down and laced his fingers at the back of his head. “Matt has pneumonia. They’ve got him on oxygen and an IV of meds. He was sleeping when I left. My aunt’s going home for something to eat, to grab his favorite books and her crocheting. Do you know all the nurses in the ER know him by name? Isn’t that a damn sad state of affairs?”

  Jace sat a sandwich in front of Boyd. “Thanks, Jace.”

  “Sure. You gotta be emotionally beat. I go nuts when little Andy gets the sniffles and cries all night. My wife stays calm, thank God, because I fall apart. It’s gotta be doubly hard on you, playing both roles.”

  This group of co-workers—sometimes pains in the asses, sometimes understanding siblings—were Boyd’s family. They understood the emotional stress he was under. “Did the EMT’s tell you how bad he looked when we got there?”

  Ivy Jo rubbed her hands over his shoulders, massaging his tense muscles. “I told them, Tiny. He was weak as a puff of air. As soon as he saw you, his arms rose toward you. He adores his daddy. That much is clear.” She leaned over his shoulder to look into his eyes. “Tiny, we need to get him seen by a specialist in asthma and lung diseases. Want me to look online for some?” She spoke as if this little white boy was her son or nephew. Her genuine concern had Boyd dangling by an emotional thread.

  He patted her brown hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss. “If you have the time, I’d really appreciate it. You sure Ryder won’t mind?”

  “Ryder? You still dating that ugly, old, reprobate?” Quinn winked at her. “He’s not getting too frisky, is he?”

  She planted a fist on her hip. “Do I ask you questions about your sex life? Don’t be prying into mine, which is just fine and double-dandy, by the way.”

  Captain Steele exited his office and asked about Matt. The siren went off and the location of the fire announced. Half-eaten sandwiches in hand, fire personnel raced to the uniform rooms. How Quinn was able to get in his uniform and gear before anyone else, no one knew. As driver of the largest and newest fire truck, Quinn expected the men assigned to his apparatus to be onboard seconds after he was settled in the seat and revving the diesel engine. Heaven help you if he had to blow the horn and holler your name, because he would ride your ass until the next slow-moving fireman rose to the top of his shit list. His truck always had to be the first one out of the station.

  Smoke rolled skyward as they turned onto an older residential street. The houses were so close together, the blaze had spread to the homes on either side of the building of the fire’s origin.

  Boyd dragged the main hose to the fire hydrant farther up the street and, using a large wrench with a pentagon-shaped socket, opened the hydrant and made the connection. He opened the valve and ran to attach the hose to the fire engine, which used a powerful pump to boost the water presser and split it into multiple streams for numerous hoses.

  Ivy Jo handed one off to Wolf who slung the hose over his shoulder and practically ran up the rungs of the ladder to reach the roof of the middle house. Boyd co-joined other hoses so more firemen could try their best to extinguish the fires on the nearby homes. Jace took a section and followed his brother Wolf up the ladder, too, in an effort to contain the blaze from the top down.

  More fire trucks rolled in and hoses hooked up to distinguish the flames. Captain Steele ordered all the occupants of the houses and onlookers to stand across the street. He inquired until he found out who lived in each house. Had they gotten out safely? Did they have their kids and pets? One mother suddenly went ballistic and could be heard screaming above the din of machinery. Her son was missing. He was with her just a few minutes ago.

  The captain spoke into his mouthpiece. “Boyd, got a missing boy. Ten years old. Lives in the middle house, his bedroom is upstairs, middle door on left. His mother thinks he went back inside for a ball glove.”

  “On it. What’s his name?” Boyd grabbed a hose.

  “Dustin. It’s his dad’s glove. He gave it to the boy to keep until he got back from Afghanistan.”

  “Oh hell, of course he’d risk his life to retrieve it.” His Matt would do the same. Boyd flipped down his mask, turned on his oxygen and charged inside to the smoky pandemonium. The blast of heat hit him like a motherfucker. What was it doing to Dustin? Would he know enough to stay close to the floor?

  Boyd raced up the steps, going as light on his feet as a giant like him could. He rounded the corner and there lay the boy on the floor. Boyd ran water over the walls and carpet surrounding the kid, not wanting to hit him full force with the hose, lest it take off any of his skin. This way it would soak into him. He reached into the bathroom and hosed down some towels and laid them over Dustin’s back before he scooped him off the floor. Sure enough, the boy clutched his dad’s baseball glove.

  Speaking into his mouthpiece, he told the Captain he had the boy and he was still breathing, although unconscious. “On our way out. Have a stretcher and oxygen ready.”

  About three steps down, Boyd’s boot broke through a step. On a twist and a roll, he maneuvered the kid on top of him when he landed. He jerked his boot out of the hole, but most of the old wood of the step came with it. Holding the kid and the hose took some finesse as he turned around so he could stand. Trouble was he was facing going up instead of going down and the soul of his foot hurt. His mood was going to hell in a hurry.

  He backed down a few steps until he passed the solid wall and reached the banisters. At the next step, the board broke, forcing him onto the step he’d just vacated. The stairway was weakening. He kicked the banister free with his good foot a
nd jumped to the floor with the kid, hoping like hell the fire hadn’t deteriorated the floor. The last thing he needed was for them to end up in the basement.

  The floorboards cracked when his boots hit, splintered, broke and through the dust of a century or more of life. Boyd and the child he held close to his chest fell to the top of the washer and dryer in the basement. The jagged edges of the old lumber tore off part of his face gear. Pain shot through Boyd’s head, back and that damn step still clung to his boot. Fuck!

  He rolled off the dented appliances and, limping, searched for an outside door. On the other side of the basement, concrete steps lead to locked double doors. Laying the kid aside, he checked his pulse and respiratory rate. Both were fair. Boyd snatched his ax from his utility belt and hacked his way out of the wooden portal. Once he had a hole big enough to pass Dustin through, he gave his position and handed the boy off to another firefighter. He made the hole bigger and pushed himself and his step buddy nailed to the bottom of his boot through the ragged hole he’d made.

  Once he’d hobbled his way to the ambulance, he could hear Dustin’s mother giving the kid holy hell. Boyd stood beside her. “Ma’am, I know you’re upset because your son risked his life and is lucky to have survived. But your husband put him in charge of something.” He tipped his head toward the glove Dustin clutched to his chest. “He took the lessons of being responsible you’ve probably been drilling into him and knew he had to get that glove for his dad. Kids think differently than adults. They haven’t mentally matured the capacity to reason things through, they just react.”

  She nodded and started to cry. “Yes, I know.”

  “You’ve got a fine son, ma’am. He’s one to be proud of. He truly is.”

  He hobbled away to the other ambulance and asked someone to remove the board from his boot. It was all he could do to keep from yelling a string of cuss words when the EMT pulled out the nail for it had gone through his boot into his foot.

  “Take your boot off. Let me look at that hole. You up to date on your tetanus shots?” The older, barrel chested man gave him the stink eye which galled him even more.