by Cassie Cole
“Is this a regular thing?” I asked. “Taco Tuesday?”
“Hell yeah it is,” Sparks said.
We readied the food on the counter and then I handed out plates. It was a serve yourself type of situation, grabbing tortillas and then filling them with meat and toppings. Christian grabbed beers—a Bud Lite for Sparks and three IPAs for the rest of us.
We sat down and I immediately raised my bottle. “To Station 47 and the lives we’ll save,” I toasted.
“To Station 47,” Christian echoed with a grin. Angel smiled too, but Sparks only nodded. I considered making another sippy cup joke, but decided I would enjoy the peace for now.
“This is really good!” I said after my first bite of soft taco. “What spices did you put in it?”
Angel looked embarrassed. “Oh, you know. Cumin and garlic. Turmeric. A little paprika. Chili powder. And salt and pepper.”
“Shit, I’m gunna have to get the recipe,” I said, then winced. It sounded like I was trying too hard to force conversation.
“So Amy,” Christian said. “Which station were you from?”
Thank God I’m not the only one making small talk. “Station 33. Spent the last few years there, straight out of the Academy. Allapattah 33rd all the way!”
“Academy?” Angel asked.
“Yeah, the Fire Academy up in Maryland.”
Sparks snorted while focusing on his taco. “Always hated the Academy brats at our station. Think they’re better than the rest of us.”
Because we are better than you, I wanted to shoot back. There was an enormous difference between an Academy graduate and someone who began as a volunteer firefighter the same way there was a difference between a trained United States Marine and some grunt who was conscripted against his will.
“Which station was that?” I asked instead.
“12th, over in Brownsville,” Christian answered.
“I knew some guys at the 12th. Good people. Not far from here, either.”
Christian nodded. “We actually have some overlap with the 12th, according to the map the analyst showed us today. The 33rd is probably too far away though, right?”
“I saw a tiny corner of overlap,” I said. “But it’s like two blocks. Practically nothing.”
“Ahh,” Christian said.
We ate in silence while I tried to think of conversation points.
“So,” I eventually said. “Is Sparks a nickname?”
“Uh huh,” he said, and nothing else.
I turned to Angel. “You’re a driver?”
“Yep. Got certified two years ago.”
Driver techs specialized in, well, driving. Not all stations had someone certified, which just meant that everyone else took turns driving the engine when needed. I’d considered getting certified since I loved driving, and it came with a pay bump, but had never gotten around to doing it.
Now it looked like I wouldn’t be driving any time soon. A shame, with that shiny new pumper sitting in the garage.
I jumped on the dishes first, then cringed while waiting for Sparks to make another maid joke. Yet he only murmured his thanks as I took his plate and rinsed them before loading the fancy new dishwasher.
“Anyone want to play cards?” I asked. “I brought my poker chips.”
Poker was almost a nightly routine with my old unit. All of us were fiercely competitive and evenly matched at cards, which meant every night was challenging without any single person always winning. It was also a simple, mindless way to pass the time—something important while waiting around during a shift.
Sparks answered by turning on the TV and grabbing an XBox controller. “Angel, Call of Duty?”
“You’re on.”
Christian gave me an apologetic smile. “No fun with just two. Maybe tomorrow?”
“Yeah, tomorrow,” I said.
Christian joined them on the couch, leaving me standing around wondering what to do. I didn’t want to be antisocial so I took a seat on the second couch and watched them play. After a while I got bored and pulled out my phone to browse Reddit. I had a text waiting on the screen:
Vazquez: Youre a rockstar! Crush it out there!
I smiled and sent him back a smiley face.
The three of them took turns playing video games longer than I could stand. Eventually I stretched and said, “I’m heading to bed.”
“Alright,” Christian said without taking his focus from the TV. Neither of the others looked over.
Having my own bedroom and bathroom was a nice luxury, but then I crawled into bed and felt lonely. I missed listening to Vazquez snore, and I missed Dominguez waking up angry and cursing at him to sleep on his side. I missed having a place that wasn’t just mine, but was shared among other people I trusted.
I missed having a real team.
I stared at the ceiling and listened to the three other firefighters shouting at the video game in the other room.
5
Sparks
“Finally,” I muttered after I heard the door close. “I thought she’d never leave.”
“Huh,” Angel said.
Christian shook his head. “What’s your problem, dude?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been a dick all day. More than your usual self. Seriously, calling her your maid?”
“I thought she was the maid.”
“She was very clearly wearing her uniform.”
“Must’ve missed it.”
“Come on,” he insisted. “What is it?”
I wasn’t sexist. At least, no more than your typical guy. Chicks weren’t as strong as men. That’s not my opinion—that’s a fact, Jack. Some could keep up if they busted their ass. Maggie back at our old station was one. Built like a freight train, and boxed like one too. Slow but powerful.
Amy was kind of like that. She clearly put in her time underneath a barbell, though she hid it by being pretty. So no, my dislike of her had nothing to do with her being a woman.
She was an outsider.
I’d been through half a dozen units over the years. Firefighters came and went, whether on their own terms or because they were injured—or worse. I used to think I had bad luck with units because someone was always rotating out.
Our last unit was different. Christian, Angel, and Brady were family. They stuck in a way other guys hadn’t, and we’d been together for over two years. We did everything together. Not just during work, but outside too. Going to the movies. Bar crawling when we were looking for action. When Christian’s dad passed from Alzheimer’s, the three of us blew some vacation days and drove home to Jacksonville to be at the funeral. That had pissed Christian off at first, but when we were all drinking at the Irish pub later that night I could tell he’d needed us there more than the rest of his family.
I couldn’t imagine doing anything without them. They were the literal ABCs of my life.
Brady should have gotten into the fucking program.
I didn’t doubt Amy specifically. She might be capable at her job. But she was surely chosen because she was a woman and the higher-ups wanted this peak hours program to look as diverse as possible.
So I figured I wouldn’t be very welcoming. Give her the cold shoulder, tease her a little. If she couldn’t handle it and quit, then hey, then we’d have an open spot for Brady. It wouldn’t be my fault if Amy didn’t have what it takes. Better to find out now than later.
If I were the odd man out, Brady would do the same for me.
“I just don’t like her,” I told Christian. “So sue me.”
He looked like he wanted to argue more, but then took the controller from Angel after he died in-game. “She’s hot though, right?”
“Very much,” Angel said.
They were right. I had to give her that—she was a bombshell with muscle. I would’ve liked her if she wasn’t taking a spot she didn’t deserve.
“If I wanted something nice to look at, I’d go down to Miami Beach.”
Christi
an shrugged and focused on his game. I glanced over at the closed door where Amy was sleeping, then I grabbed the remote and turned up the volume.
Annoying Amy until she quit might not work, but I sure as hell was going to try.
7
Amy
I wasn’t sure what time I fell asleep, but it was late thanks to the sound of gunfire and explosions from the video game. Not to mention Sparks loudly screaming whenever he was killed. I woke up tired, but I resisted the urge to hit snooze on my alarm. Today was a big day.
Firefighter fitness requirements were strict. Raw strength was obviously important since you might need to carry someone out of a building, which is why I spent a lot of time in the gym, but endurance was equally crucial. Between our heavy turn-out gear, air tanks, and any equipment we were carrying in our hands (like a high-rise pack) we were carrying around 50 pounds of shit on us the moment we set foot in a building. Just walking around for a few minutes was exhausting. You had to keep your cardio up. The CPAT test—Candidate Physical Ability Test—was required before becoming a firefighter, but it could also be requested whenever a Captain or the Fire Chief wanted.
Because of all that, I lifted weights three days a week and ran on the off days. At least three times a week, sometimes four if I was feeling especially motivated. Starting at a new station wasn’t a good enough excuse for me to skip today. I changed into running shorts and a dry-fit shirt, tied the laces to my trainers, and headed out.
The rest of the station was quiet. Nobody was up yet. I went out to the road, stretched a little bit, and picked a direction at random.
In addition to being good for me, I loved running because it was a good way to start the day. Get the blood flowing, work up a sweat. It also helped me think. I always had a clear head when I was pounding the pavement.
I thought about how yesterday had gone. I was nervous about the new station, so it made sense the other three would be too. Especially Sparks. Maybe he’d meant the maid comment as a good-natured joke and I’d overreacted, and then everything had spiraled out of control from there. Giving each other shit was part of being in a good team—even when you tested the boundaries of what was okay.
Then again, maybe it was more than that.
Sexism was something I was used to in this line of work. Honestly, most women weren’t strong enough to carry a body out of a burning building. On the surface, it made sense that men would doubt a female firefighter’s ability.
But I wasn’t most women. I’d busted my ass to get here, and I knew it showed. At the very least it would have been nice to get the benefit of the doubt from them.
I was running north, judging by the brightening sky to my right. I reached a green area and nodded at a sign: Amelia Earhart Park. Okay, I knew where I was now. That was another good thing about running. It let me explore new parts of the city.
I felt strong as I lengthened my stride. The guys would appreciate my ability once I had an opportunity to show my stuff. If I had to work twice as hard to earn it in the mean time, then so be it. As a woman, I was used to it.
Another idea came to me as I followed the park path. I’d make them breakfast when I got back. Vazquez and Dominguez loved my pancakes. Food was a great way to win a new team over.
I exited the park and headed back south along Palm Avenue. Now that I was here in Hialeah I was more excited about the job. The 7-11 on the corner, already busy despite the early hour. The Palm Residences luxury apartments on the right. The school that was starting to fill up with cars, teachers getting an early start on their day. I felt like the protector of all of it. This was my domain. It was my responsibility to ensure nothing happened to these people.
God, I loved my job.
I weaved in and out of neighbors to drag out my distance until I hit the 6.22 mile mark, the equivalent of a 10k. I put my hands on my hips and spent the final couple of blocks back to the station catching my breath.
The common room smelled like coffee, butter, and syrup. Crap, they beat me to breakfast! I’d just have to work harder to make it for everyone tomorrow.
But the kitchen was empty, and the dishes were already piled in the sink. I could hear a shower running in one of the bedrooms. It looked like someone had made French toast. And they were already done.
I bit down my disappointment and started rationalizing. It was just a misunderstanding. They might not have intentionally excluded me from the first breakfast on the first day. I was gone. They had no idea where I was.
The lie wasn’t convincing, not even to myself.
I showered and got ready, pulling my formal uniform off the coat hanger and taking care to make sure everything was in its place. If I couldn’t impress my unit mates, I at least wanted to look my best for the ceremony.
The others were already in the common room when I emerged. I felt a tingle in my gut as I saw them in their formal uniforms. Thick navy fabric and brass buttons. White dress shirt underneath and a black tie, with the Miami Fire Department badge on the arm. A single red stripe running down each pant leg. Clean white gloves.
There was something about seeing a man in a uniform. Even still, these three cut especially handsome figures in theirs.
“You clean up nice,” I said. “Even you, Sparky.”
A glower fell over his face. “It’s Sparks, not Sparky.”
I suppressed my smile. Good. I’d found a way to get under his skin. The thing about guys like him was that when the insults started flying, you had to give as good as you got. It was the only way to earn their respect. Otherwise they would walk all over you. Being a woman, I had to push extra hard in that regard to show I wasn’t too sensitive.
“You look very sharp yourself,” Christian said, dipping his head like a prom date. Even though it was an innocent compliment, coming from the dashing looking man made me blush.
“They’re already arriving,” Angel said. “Let’s go outside.”
*
A podium had been placed outside the station, with two dozen chairs facing it and several more behind the podium facing where the crowd would be. Two other fire trucks were waiting in the parking lot outside, along with a scattering of other uniformed firefighters. Three other big pumpers were sitting at the traffic light, rumbling softly and waiting to turn in.
One group of firefighters standing around caught my eye, though they were facing the engine room and had their backs turned. I approached and slapped Dominguez so hard on the back that he stumbled forward, barely catching himself before face-planting on the pavement. Vazquez turned in alarm, saw it was me, then busted out laughing.
“What the hell?” Dominguez said.
I pointed a gloved finger at him. “That’s for tripping me that time at the pool.”
“That was a year ago!”
“And after a long year, we’re finally even.” He flinched as I approached, but all I was doing was wrapping him in a hug. “How the hell are you guys?”
“It’s only been a day, you know,” Vazquez said.
“Yeah, and I miss the hell out of you guys already.”
He smiled. “We miss you too. Rogers especially.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” Dominguez said. “But only because he has to do all the paperwork for getting a replacement. Not because you were special or anything.”
“Of course.”
“How’s the new team?” Vazquez asked.
I looked over my shoulder. Christian, Angel, and Sparks were chatting with another guy by the parked trucks. They glanced over at me but kept their distance.
“They’re fine,” I said.
“Just fine?”
“They look… weird,” Dominguez said. “Are they acting weird? It’s like they’re the cool kids at the cafeteria and we’re the nerds.”
“What kind of a fireman has a beard?” Vazquez asked, squinting across the space. “Unless he thinks he’s going to sit in the engine during every call…”
I hesitated. I wanted to open up to them and tell
them everything that had happened. How they’d called me the maid when they first saw me, and were giving me the cold shoulder, and had excluded me from breakfast. But I could hear myself in my head, and I sounded whiny. I didn’t want my old teammates thinking of me like that.
Besides, I knew exactly what Vazquez would say: that it was early. That I needed to give it some more time before rushing to judgement.
“They’re alright,” I said. “They’re just intimidated by all the deadlift records I’m gunna set in the new gym.”
Dominguez brightened. “New gym?”
I gave them a tour of the place while we waited for everyone else to show up. They ooh’d and ahh’d over the individual bunks, and Dominguez joked that Vazquez should have been the one sent here to quarantine his snoring. Vazquez saw the dishes in the kitchen and asked if I’d made pancakes yet. All I said was that no, I hadn’t.
By the time we went back outside everyone had arrived and people were taking their seats. I waved goodbye to my friends and joined my new team in the seats behind the podium. Christian and Angel nodded at me while Sparks scanned the crowd.
Everyone else took their seats, staring up at us. It made me feel like I was the one on display and not the station itself. The sooner this was over, the better.
Chief Elliott was greeted with applause as he stepped up to the podium. “Welcome everybody. I’m Chief Elliott of the Miami Fire Department. I appreciate the great turnout today; it’s not often we get to commemorate not only a wetting ceremony and push-in ceremony for a new engine, but the opening of a new station altogether.”
He went on to thank the seemingly endless list of people responsible for making this possible. The mayor, the city council, the taxpayers, and a few dozen others I didn’t care about. He gave a little history about the entire program itself, who originally submitted the proposal, and the hardworking people who pushed it along every step of the way. The crowd obediently applauded when he paused.
“We’ve modeled this peak hours station after the Irving, Texas department, and we are extremely confident in the results we will see. Please join me in welcoming the first group of firefighters to this rapid response unit: Sparks Johnson, Angel Martinez, Christian Nygaard, and Amonette Pederson.”
