Shit, not again. Hudgens and her yoga clothes visited his dreams far too often. Particularly since in those dreams, he had sex with her on the conference room table. Or on the yoga mats. Or in the studio closet. Or on his desk.
No, he couldn’t send Hudgens either. Firehouse 15 needed a stable A-shift. He always came back to that. Too many stations and not enough staff. Not enough staff to even transfer out two officers who had been dating.
“Knock knock.” Abby waved at the screen. “That’s ‘Chief face,’ which means you’ve gone somewhere else.”
“Sorry,” he said. “The work never ends.”
“Sounds like you need to get back to it. I love you, little brother.”
“Love you, big sis.”
The screen went dark, but he was already back to the problems in the department. Being fire chief was often uncharted territory in a job that was dominated by protocols and chain of command.
At the lower levels, lieutenants commanded an engine or a ladder. Captains commanded a firehouse. His battalion chiefs commanded 5-8 firehouses each. His two section chiefs oversaw the battalions split into ‘East’ and ‘West.’ He had four division chiefs and two assistant chiefs directly under him. He typically attended large incidents but only took calls once or twice a month personally, as he was generally the last resort.
Small trash fires got handled by one engine and ladder typically. A first-alarm fire, also called a ‘working fire,’ called for two engines, a ladder, and one of the battalion chiefs. Second alarms called for more units with a second battalion chief, and a third alarm brought a more senior chief. The larger the fire, the more delegation. The highest ranked chief at the scene became the incident commander who then delegated responsibilities to the other chiefs. The goal was to keep the incident command’s eye on the big picture and let the other chiefs and staff handle the details, the most important of which was keeping every firefighter safe.
Even though his attendance wasn’t mandatory at anything but a high-rise or something similar, Noah hated to be unavailable. He could sleep or have a drink. While he enjoyed a dark beer, drinking alone seemed pathetic, and he couldn’t drink with anyone from the department. He was past the age of getting shit-faced and picking up women in bars.
Noah closed up his computer and placed his paperwork back in his messenger bag. His office at HQ was rather spartan, containing a desk, cabinets, and chairs for the miscreants. The home office was much nicer with his wall of books and a guest duvet. Three bedrooms might have been more house than a single guy needed, but he needed a refuge. He also might have splurged on the hot tub, his finished basement gym, and wholly unnecessary man-cave after the divorce.
Since he’d already eaten a microwaved dinner, he decided it was worthwhile to work out. Boxing was his surefire method of blowing off steam. Originally, it had been the hobby of himself and his best friend, Captain Jacen Williams.
Yet now he boxed alone, rarely having time to make it to his favorite gym. Still, boxing had a certain poetry to it. Right jab, left cross, right jab, left uppercut, left hook, right hook. It didn’t require thought or even much planning. It was only him and a bag that could take as much punishment as he could dish out.
When the workout was finished, he tossed his clothes in the hamper and took a fast shower. He eventually dozed off on his living room couch watching a Star Trek Next Generation rerun. Alone and slightly jealous of Commander Riker’s effortless ability to get laid.
Maybe suicidal gasoline guy wanted to be Riker too.
Everything changed when his cell phone’s alarm went off.
Chapter 4
“You’d have thought someone died,” Theo said at group dinner. The A-shift’s month-long wait for an official ruling was over. The department dropped off their repaired engine and two official letters from Chief Baker.
Erin didn’t need psychic powers to know it was bad news based on Luna’s pout. Luna hated to be the fiery Latina stereotype, except it was exactly who she was. She could hold a grudge like nobody’s business, she made snap judgments, and always believed she was right. Fortunately, she generally had very reliable firefighting instincts and adhered to protocol. Erin hated people who couldn’t follow protocol.
The probie, for example.
Luna set down the fork she had been using to toy with her spaghetti. “We didn’t get fired.”
“Not fired is good,” Kevin said. He’d volunteered to cook again. Shift dinner was spaghetti with tofu meatballs.
“Neither of us are going to be captain,” Aiden said. It had to sting for him since he had been a lieutenant for five years as opposed to Luna’s two. A firefighter could apply for lieutenant after four years as a firefighter and captain after two years as a lieutenant. Luna had applied the moment she was eligible.
“What did he say?” Vanessa spoke with her mouth full of garlic bread. The former beauty queen often deliberately ate as messily as possible to ignore every single etiquette lesson she’d ever had.
“He appreciated our application for captain at Firehouse 15, but, in the light of our July shift, the department would explore ‘alternate leadership options.’” Luna was glum.
“‘Sincerely, Fire Chief Noah Baker,’” Aiden said. “We got what we deserved, so we need to suck it up. While we didn’t officially get disciplined, my letter mentioned Luna is interim captain because we can’t punch victims.”
“It doesn’t seem fair if he was trying to set himself on fire,” Theo said. “That man had a death wish.”
“He’s dead now,” Aiden said with all the graveyard humor. “Maybe I’d be interim captain if he hadn’t died.”
“Where’s our probie?” Luna asked.
Kevin laughed. “Folding shirts.” Laundry was on the second floor with their kitchen (the cafe), their bunkrooms, and the personal lockers. The first floor was the captain’s office, gym, reception, and equipment rooms for hoses, SCBA, and turnouts.
