Page 75 of The Guy Who Became My Grumpy Boss

“A fire blanket,” Jessica explained.

“Do you always have one of those with you?” another person said.

“I have one in my car,” someone else added helpfully.

Jessica’s gaze stayed on me for a few seconds, as if she were making certain that I was alright, before she took a breath and turned to the others. “My old roommate is a glass blower and sets things on fire on a regular basis. She gave it to me for Christmas.”

I knew Ashley had participated in a televised competition for her glass blowing and had done well. A fire blanket wouldn’t be a present I would normally think of, but I mentally added it to my list of practical gifts.

“It’s still burning!” Marissa’s shrill voice cut through the conversation that now revolved around Jessica.

We all looked at where the flames had been moments before. One side of the blanket had a wrinkle in it, like a tunnel a cat would make while burrowing underneath. A thick ribbon of gray smoke curled out from the gap, snaking its way into the air.

Jessica moved and stomped on the opening. As she did so, a huge belch of smoke emerged, slowly moving upward like a helium balloon that was almost out of rising agent.

I looked at Jessica, who glared at the blanket.

Everyone else had their eyes on the smoke, which was headed to the ceiling.

The ceiling where the smoke detectors were.

I followed their gazes, and my eyes landed on the sprinklers hanging from above.

The detector would go off as soon as the gray cloud arrived and then we’d get drenched in a shower of who knew what.

How much smoke did it take to trigger the system? Was it sensitive, like the one in Aunt Mei’s kitchen? Or was it more like mine which required a severe amount of exhaust before it would go off?

There was no way to tell.

Jessica muttered a single word as the smoke drifted ever closer to the ceiling. “Crap.”

At the same moment, a woman screamed, “The sprinklers will ruin the boxes of food!”

The mood turned on a dime. Wide-eyed panic replaced the morbid curiosity, and pandemonium broke out.

“Cover the boxes!” someone cried.

“Do we have any tarps?”

“Why would I have a tarp?”

“Use your shirts!”

“For the children!”

The people around me scattered, leaving Jessica, Marissa, and me near the smothered fire.

Jessica glared up at the nearest sprinkler. “Do you think it will go off?”

“Unknown,” I said.

A frightened scream filled the air, and I jerked my head to the left where I found a woman sprawled out on the floor as if she’d been pushed by someone.

“Sorry,” another woman said a she ran past with a disposable poncho fluttering behind her.

“Peter!” Marissa cried. “We should evacuate!”

Marissa had never been good at lying, and the fake tone andthe fact that she put her hands on her cheeks as if in mock panic told me that she didn’t believe what she was saying.

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