“Then I expect a very interesting report from you.”
“Of course.”
“I expect a report from you.” Hastings repeated with emphasis on the last word. “The fun part about being Operations Chief is every single piece of paper, schedule, and report eventually winds up on my desk.”
“I see.”
“Yes, though lately, I have seen no reports from you. It seems the firehouse’s senior lieutenant has been on Medic often.”
“Must be luck of the draw,” Mateo lied through his teeth. Cordova might have thought he was pulling a fast one on the brass, but clearly not.
“I know. A statistical anomaly. However, in the interests of avoiding any unfortunate anomalies, I’d like your report delivered directly to me.”
“Yes, sir.” Mateo nodded, seeing the request exactly for what it was. The Chief wanted a real assessment of Leslie’s skills and the incident without the filter of Cordova. Cordova would still receive a copy of the report, and he’d know what Mateo wrote.
Mateo knew what Cordova hoped he’d do—bury Leslie with a negative eval.
Hastings slapped Mateo on the back. “Excellent. Can’t wait to read it. Oh, and I’d be careful about calling McClunis by her first name. Don’t want any appearances of impropriety. I suggest you stick with a good ol’ southern ‘ma’am.’”
Mateo watched him leave. Nothing escaped Hastings, no matter what a good ol’ boy he acted like. Fortunately, no one wanted to challenge him. Rumor was he’d told Fire Chief Layne he’d rather eat a live lobster than get promoted beyond Operations.
A man with no allegiance and no ambition could be a friend or a foe. And not a man to cross.
And Mateo wasn’t sure if he was ready to accept his thirty pieces of silver quite yet.
Late July 1995
Cleveland, Ohio
The Diary of the Almost Chaplain at MetroGen
Thatwasaninterestinginterview. I didn’t expect them to ask how I would minister to the family of someone who had recently died from wounds from their pet bear. Oh well, I’m sure I impressed them with my Wiccan Spiral Dance to show I’m an inclusive Oberlin boy through and through.
Note to self, research bear attacks in urban areas. Is that a thing? Or is it a Browns Dawg Pound versus Chicago Bears rivalry code I missed since I was in school?
Chapter 6
Thefollowingevening,whilehe was post-shift, someone knocked on his door. He left his living room and opened the door to his kitchen and dining room.
“Hey there.” Isadora was wearing a cute little sundress that showed a generous amount of cleavage and no shoes. “Feel like company?”
“Well…” Mateo started, but she was already through the door, kissing him.
“I couldn’t talk to you yesterday.” She kissed his mouth and the side of his neck. “You faced down a bear and came out in one piece.”
Her hands were untucking his shirt, and he forgot whatever he’d meant to say. There had been a lot of tension in the air by the ambulance, but why care about that? Instead, he kissed her back; she wasn’t the only who was quite happy he was alive.
He remembered now. There were other issues beyond the scene. “It’s good to see you, Isadora, but…”
Those hands were inside his pants, stroking him into readiness. “You face a bear armed with nothing but a Tee-ball bat. God, firefighters are sexy.”
“Isadora, you can’t—" Mateo twisted a hand in her hair, letting her get on her knees and unzip his jeans.
“Why not? I should reward you. I didn’t wear any panties either.” Her breath was warm on his crotch. That was enough to make him moan and allow her to have her way with him.
Until reality intruded.
“What are you doing?” a small child’s voice asked.
