Iwas in a blind rage as I pushed the cafeteria door open with so much force that it smacked against the wall with a loud thud. It was so loud that all eyes turned to me.
“Who ate my damn leftovers?” I asked as I exited the kitchen with the empty container in hand. It was five in the morning, and we’d had a busy night. Too damn busy. The kind of shift where you survive on Hot Cheetos and whatever you can grab between calls. Mid-November on a Friday was like that in Silverrun, especially now that the Colorado Pinnacles were on fire. No pun intended. The whole city was going crazy over our basketball team.
That included me. I was a basketball superfan, compliments of my father, Huey Grant. So, I understand the excitement, but for some reason, setting fires had become the way to celebrate every win. And that I didn’t understand.
Basically, I was starving, exhausted, and forty-five minutes from freedom. I didn’t appreciate the level of disrespect. Everyone in the common room was looking at me like I had two heads, and I was staring right back, waiting. The fluorescent lights hummed above us, washing everybody out except me. My brown skin held its glow even under the harsh firehouse lights.
“Not only did you eat my damn food, but you also left the evidence right there in the sink.”
Snickers came from the back near the lockers, and I followed the sound, my boots heavy against the concrete floor. I’d wrapped my hair up in a quick bun, edges still laid despite the twelve-hour shift because my mama didn’t raise me to look rough just cause work was rough.
“Is something funny, Keith?”
One thing I hated was a childish ass man, and Tyler Allen Keith was exactly that. Another nigga with three first names who’d been on the jobtwo years but thought making my life difficult counted as flirting. Ever since I made Lieutenant over him three months ago, he’d been testing me. Little comments about female lieutenants, accidentally forgetting to follow my orders, and that stupid smirk whenever I had to correct him. Like my pretty face meant I couldn’t run a scene. Like my nails being done meant I couldn’t drag his ass from here to Arizona. At five in the morning, after a twelve-hour shift, it seemed he was hellbent on making me cuss his weak ass out, and he was about to get his wish.
“No, Lieutenant.” He hissed out my title like it tasted sour in his mouth, and I crossed my arms. Then, under his breath, but loud enough for the others to hear, “Wasn’t even that serious.”
“What was that?” I turned fully toward him, giving him one chance to walk it back.
Keith shrugged, that smirk tugging at his mouth. “I said it’s not that serious. It’s leftovers. You actin’ like the world ended because somebody ate your food. Maybe if you weren’t so worried about cameras catching your good side, you’d remember to label your shit. That’s y’all females’ problem, too emotional.”
The temperature dropped a notch. Even the rookies knew he was pushing it. Every woman in the world knew what that word meant, coming from a man who couldn’t handle taking orders from her.
“Say what you really mean, Keith. Go ahead. Since you got so much mouth this morning.” I laughed, but it wasn’t funny. He didn’t know shit about me. I never asked for the fame or attention I received.
“If we’re being real,” he added, leaning back comfortably, “This is a man’s job.”
He scoffed, waiting for people to join in with him. I was shocked when no one did. That let me know at least I had earned some respect from most of my team members.
He looked at me dead in my face, but I could see the bitch in him. He was doing all this because he had an audience and out of pure jealousy. I was used to it. I’d grown up in a firehouse all my life. I knew and understood the culture. He said like the guys back home. He sounded like the reason I left to chart my own path.
The room went quiet. Somebody whispered, “Oh shit.”
Shoulders shifted, boots scraped. Everybody knew this was about to go left.
“Look, you Hotep niggadactyl.” I stepped into his space, my nametag catching the light as I moved. I was close enough that he had to look down at me, close enough that everyone watching knew this was about to be over. “I’msick of your games, and I’m even more sick of your mouth. I go out there just like you and risk mylife. Idon’t need a dick to do that. Don’t let the hoe in you get you benched. I still outrank you, emotional or not. Are we clear?”
Keith sucked his teeth, that little sound of defiance that Black mamas worldwide would’ve slapped out of his mouth. My own mama would’ve had him picking his teeth up off the floor. I stepped even closer, my five-foot-five frame carrying all the authority of my eight years on this job, my grandmother’s stubbornness, and my daddy’s temper.
“Dress out. I can’t trust someone I don’t respect, and that for damn sure don’t respect me.”
“That’s bullshit,” Keith groaned and tried to protest, but I’d spoken. As ranking officer on shift, what I said went. We stood toe to toe until he stepped back.
“Don’t ever get funny with me because I can get hilarious. Let that be a lesson to everyone.”
I waved bye as I swayed out of the locker room, letting my hips remind him, and everybody else watching, that being fine and being in charge weren’t mutually exclusive. A Black woman could be both. Always had been both.
Back in the kitchen, I leaned against the counter and breathed through it. This job took enough out of me without grown men adding their insecurities on top. I wasn’t carrying that energy into the next call.
I was starving, exhausted, and forty-five minutes from freedom. And on top of all that? I was sick of the damn spotlight. Folks stayed worried about my face, my body, my nails, my hair — everything but the work I put in. Sametra told me this would come with the promotion, and she wasn’t lying. Men felt entitled to test me. Women hyped me. White folks stayed weird. It was all noise.
I just wanted to do my damn job.
The alarm blared before I could even finish the exhale. My whole body sagged. Of course. Of fucking course.
“Structure fire, 4521 Millbrook Drive. Multiple units responding. Possible arson.”
So much for getting my favorite breakfast bagel from Bruegger’s and heading home to sleep for the rest of the weekend, I was pulling doubles and covering until we got a new replacement. That was the job, and another reason why I wouldn’t stand for disrespect.
