“Layton said you’re from a small mountain town in North Carolina.”
“Well, I went to high school here. But I visited Sycamore Mountain with my parents years ago and fell in love with the place. It’s definitely God’s country. No resorts or fancy stuff. Just clean air, lots of trees and lakes, hunting and fishing. It’s a great community. You should come for a visit once you get staffing straight here.”
“You seeing anyone back there?” Layton asks.
“Nah. I’m pretty focused on my career. Keep it under wraps, but I’m applying for captain. The assistant Fire Chief is retiring, so I need to get back in six weeks to be available for training.”
“Wow. That’s amazing. You’ve moved up the ladder quickly,” Layton commends.
“Yeah. I don’t think I’d have the same opportunities anywhere else. But I’ve kept all of my attention on the job. A relationship isn’t in the cards for me, anyway.”
Layton and Jenson look at each other, and I immediately know they’re aware of my sordid history. Unease starts to crawl up my spine, but neither pushes me to talk about it.
“I haven’t even been tempted beyond a girl that was a better match to my best friend, Trevor. He’s one of my brothers at station 12.” Thinking of Addison, I can’t help but mentally compare her physical attributes to Quinn’s. They’re both tall, dark-haired beauties with mesmerizing eyes. Both savvy businesswomen. Yet there’s one big difference.
Addison isn’t ten years younger than I am with a backstabbing brother.
We eat our sandwiches, shooting the shit with one another, and I have to admit it’s nice to have some friends in Magnolia Point after all. I didn’t know Layton growing up, but he’s good people.
“Hey, so I didn’t want to ask before. You seemed like you were dealing with enough, just keeping the department afloat. But what happened to cause the station to have such a bad reputation?”
Layton and Jenson look at each other, notable distress marring both of their faces.God, this has to be bad. “Well, it wasn’t just one thing. It was like being hit with a tropical depression, only to be struck by a hurricane before you’ve recovered.” Jenson sighs.
“You know how they say bad things come in threes?” Layton pushes his hand through his hair before leaning back in his chair. “First, the department hired a few temps to man the ambulance after the volunteers became scarce. Let’s just say one of them was a lot better at patient care than driving large vehicles. She’d passed the EVOC exam, allowing her to drive, but…”
Jenson starts to shake his head in embarrassment as Layton tells the story.
“She basically had to get money from the ATM, but instead of parking the ambulance, she drove through the drive through. Literally.”
“Noooo,” I abruptly respond, exaggerating the O. “One with an overhang?”
“Yep,” Jenson answers, popping the P.
“Tore the whole thing right off,” Layton adds flatly.
“Holy shit.” I can imagine in a town this size, that had to be the talk for some time. I try to put a positive spin on it. “But she was temporary staff hired from outside the department, right? That shouldn’t reflect on you as much as them.”
“All the town sees is a Magnolia Point ambulance, which responds from station 803,” Jenson replies.
“Didn’t help that the local news reporter, trying to make a name for herself, did a follow-up piece on how greedy fire departments were putting volunteer squads out of business. She tried to spin it that we’d rather have paid medics we can control versus talented volunteers,” Layton practically spits.
“Fuck.”
“Yeah, it gets better. About six months later, we respond to a call at Magnolia Point Resort where a socialite has activated 911 for a headache.”
Shifting in my seat, I find this odd. “Why was that so bad? We get those types of calls all the time.” It’s not uncommon to have to transport a patient for pain relief or to rule out a stroke.
“Well, this chick had an agenda. I’m certain of it. She’d heard people get Botox injections for migraines and was incensed that we weren’t able to provide her with that in her hotel suite.”
“Are you for real? What happened? Did she complain?”
“Uh, yeah. To her 1.2 million followers on social media,” Layton barks.
“One of her cronies had been videotaping them on scene without their knowledge,” Jenson adds. “I still think she wanted the Botox for cosmetic reasons and was mad we wouldn’t accommodate her request.”
“Jesus.” I slump back in my chair before remembering the adage about things coming in threes. “I’m almost afraid to ask…”
Again, my two lunch companions peer uncomfortably at one another.
