RIYA
Sweat dripped from every part of her body onto the parking lot outside the fire station for Engine and Ladder 52, and it had nothing to do with the fact that it was June in Maryland. Well, not entirely.
Riya was in full turnout gear: jacket, pants, gloves, boots and helmet, the oxygen tank strapped to her back, finishing therequestedfifty push-ups. At least the gloves provided padding from the gravel where they were ending today’s training. The sixty pounds of gear on her body simply got heavier with each push-up. And hotter.
“What’s the matter, Desai? Too much for you?” Her lieutenant, Jeff Ambrose, stood in front of her. He was also in full gear, and he had finished his push-ups. He was calling the count for the rest of them on this shift: Bill Schultz, Ian Walsh, Marcus Evans and Alejandro Alvarez. But he only called out her name. She was the rookie. And the only woman.
“No, sir!” she shouted.
“Down!”
She went into the lowered push-up position, her body hovering a couple of inches above the ground.
Lieutenant Ambrose stood in front of her. All she could see were his boots. Riya almost wished the alarm would sound and they had to take a call. Though, Ambrose would probably make her stay in this position until they got back.
She concentrated on her breathing and not on the ache in her muscles. Or the sweat dripping off her face, pooling in various parts of her body.
“Up!”
She pushed up. One more.
“Down.” Lieutenant Ambrose knelt in front of her as she hovered again. Her abs and shoulders were screaming. “How’s it going, Desai?”
“Great, sir!”
“You feel that?” He stood as if addressing them all, but Riya knew he was talking to her. “Your whole body is screaming. Your muscles are spent. But if one of you falls, your whole team starts fifty push-ups on a count of one. That’s how it is on scene. Everything you do affects the man...” he paused significantly “...or woman, next to you. Up!”
There was general groaning, but Riya didn’t make a sound. She wasn’t about to show even the slightest amount of weakness. They’d never let her live it down.
“Down.” Lieutenant Ambrose spoke in a normal tone again. “Dismissed. Get cleaned up.”
Riya collapsed on the spot, removing her gloves, helmet and oxygen tank, not oblivious to the chatter of the other guys, who were complaining about the extra hard workout and somehow blaming her for it. Didn’t they need to be in shape regardless of whether she was there or not? She reached for her water bottle. The water was hot from sitting in the afternoon sun, but she didn’t care. She closed her eyes, lay on her back a moment and enjoyed the hydration. Cars whizzed past on the highway behind them. The firehouse had four bays, two engines and one ladder truck. There were offices in the back, along with sleeping quarters and a kitchen upstairs. This was Riya’s home away from home. She loved it.
A small tongue licked at her face, and she grinned. At least someone here liked her.
“Scout! That’s gross, licking up my sweat.” She opened up her turnout jacket, imagining a slight breeze to cool her. She brought the puppy close. She needed a shower, but with only the one locker room and that with open showers, she would have to navigate around the men who had already gone in to clean up. She wasn’t exactly a prude, but she wasn’t getting stark naked in a shower full of men she worked with.
In between calls, they maintained the truck and all the equipment on it. Riya made sure she was always busy, always doing her share, be it maintaining the equipment, cleaning the engine or cooking and cleaning the firehouse. She knew she was the probie, and as such she did the scut work. She loved firefighting in a way that was different from the way she loved being a paramedic, so this probationary period was just another rite of passage for her.
Didn’t hurt that she was a good cook.
A few of the men hadn’t bothered to hide the fact that they doubted her ability to do the job based solely on the fact that she was a woman. Those same men seemed to have no trouble eating her food, however.
There was no point in fighting them. Her work could and would speak for itself. She had excelled at the academy, and her first few shifts here had gone well. It would be a couple of weeks before she was able to do twenty-four-hour shifts.Sheknew she could do the job. The guys would just have to see for themselves.
Right now, though, Riya squeezed her eyes shut and laughed as Scout climbed onto her stomach, preventing her from standing. She was grateful for the excuse to lie still for a moment. “Hey, Scout. Hey, there.” She patted the pup’s head. “How’re you doing?”
“Took her to the vet today.” Ian approached from her periphery.
She was sitting in an instant, closing her turnout jacket over her tank top almost instinctively. “Yeah, where?” Whenever she was in Ian’s presence, her muscles tensed, and the hairs on her arms stood on end. She focused her attention on Scout and those big brown puppy eyes.
“You know that old building on the corner, opposite the bar? A new vet took over the practice.” He paused. “He seemed to know you.”
At this, Riya glanced up, the summer sun making her squint at Ian. Her heart raced as she tried to maintain the appearance of mild interest. “Oh, yeah?” She continued to pet Scout almost as if the puppy was a shield against the bomb Ian was about to drop.
Riya didn’t know many vets. In fact, she only knew one.
Before Ian could say anything, a very familiar cold nose nuzzled her hand. Riya smiled and greeted the newcomer even as her stomach bottomed out. “Lucky?” She leaned in toward the older dog so he could lick her face. She held Scout with one hand and petted Lucky with the other. She hugged him and tousled his fur, automatically assessing the older dog’s scars.
