Page 70 of Inferno
Jake sobered at once.“Yes, sir.I’m sorry. I was way out of line. I know you’re a happily married man and you would never cheat on your wife.”
“Damn right I wouldn’t.” Stan swept an impatient glance around the kitchen. “Now where the hell is the newspaper?”
“I’ll get it for you.” Jake shot up from his chair and beat a hasty retreat.
Moments later, some of the other firefighters began filing into the kitchen, and breakfast was soon under way.
As the senior officer on the shift, Stan sat at the head of the large table as the men scarfed down their food while laughing and exchanging rowdy banter. Their language was profane, and more than a few of their jokes were vulgar.
At one point someone demanded with mock indignation, “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
“No, I kissyours,”camethe retort, which set off another round of raucous laughter that included Stan’s.
There was nothing like the camaraderie between agroupof men who lived together on a twenty-four-hour shift. The ritual of trading insults was as innate to them as sharing meals, swapping stories, sliding down poles and racing off to put out fires.
When the alarm sounded halfway through breakfast, no one took another sip of coffee or forked up another bite of eggs. No one bemoaned the unfairness of having to respond to another emergency right before their shift was supposed to end.
The men sprang into action, rushing out to the large garage where the fire engine and rescue and ladder trucks were parked. With practiced speed and efficiency, they donned their turnout gear, snapped suspenders into place, shoved feet into boots and grabbed their heavy coats and helmets.
When the nature of the emergency was announced—a house fire on South Yosemite Street—Stan’s heart rate kicked into overdrive.
A small, ominous voice whispered,Is today the day?
He allowed himself a moment—no more than a few seconds—to kiss the miniature photo of his wife and children that he’d begun wearing in a locket around his neck. And then he stuffed the chain back inside his gear, hopped into the rig beside the driver and shouted above the wailing siren, “Let’s haul ass!”
Several hours later, he was in his own truck and headed home. He was weary to the bone but grateful, as always, to be alive.
His unit had arrived at the scene to discover thick black smoke and flames shooting from the roof of a large two-story house situated on a quiet, tree-lined street. The fire had started when lightning from an early-morning thunderstorm struck the home, igniting a fiery blaze that had taken over two hours to extinguish. When all was said and done, the roof and the upper level of the house were destroyed. But thankfully the homeowners, along with their beloved Golden Retriever, had gotten out safely as soon as the fire began.
By the time Stan returned to the station and completed his incident report, then called the hospital for an update on the status of last night’s accident victims, it was late afternoon.
After checking in with Prissy, he left the station and swung by the high school to pick up Manning, who’d surprised Stan and Prissy when he announced that he would be staying after school three days a week to help with math tutoring.
On the way home, father and son caught each other up on the other’s day. Once Manning heard about the fire, he was full of questions, reminding Stan of those halcyon days back in Atlanta when he’d taken his sons to work, delighting them with tours of the firehouse and rides on the rescue truck. With the engine roaring, lights flashing and siren blaring, the boys had been in seventh heaven.
As they neared their neighborhood, Stan asked conversationally, “So how’s Taylor doing?”
A shadow crossed Manning’s face before he turned to stare out the window. “She’s okay,” he mumbled.
Puzzled by the sudden change in Manning’s demeanor, Stan prodded, “She’s tutoring math too, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
Stan studied the boy’s brooding profile.“Everything all right?”
Heavy pause.“Yeah.”
“Doesn’t sound like it.”
After another pause, Manning blew out a harsh breath and blurted, “She has a boyfriend.”
“Really?”Stan was surprised. “When did that happen?”
“This week,” Manning grumbled, his thick brows furrowed with displeasure. “He’s in the band. They have two classes together.”
“Is that so? Well, good for Taylor…right?”
Manning’s scowl deepened. “She doesn’t even like him.”
