In the end, though it made no difference. Our neighbors were dying of the scourge, and we hadn’t found an effective way of dealing with the problem or the victims.
“I’m hungry.” Giancarlo offered a measured smile. Likely uncertain of what to say.
“Yeah.” Miriam offered a smile. “All good.” Then, as if shaking off her mood, she strode over to the breakroom.
Giancarlo gave methatlook.
“You fucking asshole!” Miriam’s cry rang through the fire hall.
I sprinted over—Giancarlo fast on my heels.
We arrived to find Miriam pointing to her pot of pasta and Marlon digging into a mountain of pasta on his plate.
Jesus. Not just incredibly rude…but with no sense of self-preservation.Everyone knew spaghetti was Miriam’s favorite meal, and we never took any unless she offered—which she often did. Just not to Marlon.
None of us shared with Marlon.
One might think he’d take the hint.
He never did.
“What?” He actually said the word with his mouth full of food.
“Dude, that’s so gross.” I tossed him a cloth napkin. “Cover your mouth if you speak with your mouth full.”
“Or better, don’t speak at all.” Giancarlo’s glare matched Miriam’s.
Marlon swallowed. “I didn’t see a name on it.”
I rolled my eyes. He’d have been better off keeping his fucking mouth shut.
“Because we were out on a call. A call you were late to. You should get written up.” She had her hands on her hips and was spitting mad.
I didn’t blame her. We also knew he’d never be written up—what with his daddy being the fire chief and all.
Glad to see nepotism is still alive and well. I walked over to the pot of spaghetti on the stove. “Plenty for you, Miriam. Since you made it.”
“I made enough to share.”
“See? So why’s everyone upset I’m having some?” Marlon said with a shit-eating grin.
“Because I made enough for Giancarlo and Finn.” Miriam gazed into the pot. “There’s barely enough for me—let alone the guys.”
“I was thinking a burger anyway.” Giancarlo rubbed his belly. “Isn’t it great we can get anything we want delivered?” He grabbed the fast-food menus we’d accumulated. “I’m thinking A&W. Gotta love the onion rings. You with me, Finn? I’ll pay.”
Ever the peacemaker.
Now I could smell the tomato sauce, however, I really wanted pasta. I could get some from Boston Pizza—but A&W would be faster. And my stomach was growling. “Sure. Sounds great. I’ll pay the next time.”
“Fantastic.” Giancarlo went in search of his cell phone.
I eyed Marlon. “Dick move. Maybe clear out so Miriam can eat her food in peace?”
“Nothing wrong with me hanging around here.” He gestured expansively “The room’s for everyone. The bitch—” He pretended to wince. “—sorry, the lady, is welcome here. Even though she shouldn’t be.” He scowled. “In fact, I’m outta here.”
He took his plate with him—which meant we’d find it abandoned somewhere later with a crusty layer of red sauce on it.
“Gross.” Miriam poked the wooden spoon into the pot. “Do you suppose he spit in it?”
