Vonnie Davis - Pin-Up Fireman

“Yeah? Come in.”

Boyd pushed open the door. “Captain. Aunt Jinny just called. Matt’s having such a hard time breathing, his lips are turning blue. I’m taking him to the emergency room.”

“Kid needs oxygen now, Tiny.” The captain spied Ivy Jo, part of one of the EMT teams, walking by and yelled for her and Jace to take an ambulance to pick-up Matt. Tiny jogged behind them to the apparatus storage area. Since the required equipment was always kept in the vehicles, all they had to do was open the garage door, hop in and haul ass.

Graci-Ella was impressed with how quickly an ambulance could hit the streets, siren blaring. Captain Steele walked her to the coffee pot and poured them both a cup. “He’s got his hands full with his little boy, doesn’t he? He’s been telling me bits and pieces as we talk and grow closer.”

The station chief poured some creamer into his coffee. “Yeah, the kid’s a charmer. Well behaved thanks to Tiny teaching him manners and telling him bad behavior is unacceptable.” The captain grinned and elbowed her. “But don’t let that fool you. That child has six-feet-eight of macho male wrapped around his little finger.”

She took another sip of her coffee, surprised at how good it was. “Lucky kid.” She glanced at the captain, and they both laughed.

“I’m glad to see he’s taken an interest in you. His first wife burned him pretty bad. The weekends he doesn’t have Matt, Tiny usually hangs out with some of the guys here at the squad. Basketball, beach volleyball or riding Harleys. Be nice for him to have someone special to join in the fun.”

“I’ve never ridden a Harley or any type of motorcycle for that matter.”

“I bet if you’d ask, he’d take you for a ride.” The captain smiled as he raised his cup to his lips.

She shook her open hand in an erasing manner. “No. No. If he wants me to have it, he’ll give it to me.” Oh God, tell me the heat I’m feeling on my face is not something he can see because I wouldn’t mind Tiny giving me a good ride—motorcycle not mandatory. I’m awful. Just awful!

The captain chuckled and shook his head. “Sorry to leave you, but I have to fill out paperwork on the use of the ambulance since we didn’t get a nine-one-one request for it. Call me when you want to start taking pictures of the men. I’m quite pleased with the idea. I’m proud of my group of firemen and firewomen.” He glanced at the dent in the refrigerator. “Well, except for one, who I’ve been ordered to give one more chance. I’m not in the best of moods over the Fire Chief’s orders.”

“A decision like that could prove dangerous. I think the guy’s unstable.” She glanced at the large clock on the wall. “I better head into the office. Thank you for agreeing to all this.”

“No problem. I’ve seen too many people lose everything in a fire or hurricane. The local food bank helps a lot of families.”

Hurrying down the hallway to her office, the rolled carpet draped over one arm and her new desk lamp under her other, she was surprised to see the furniture she’d picked out yesterday setting outside her door. She placed the lamp and rug on top of the desk before walking into her cheery yellow office.

“Wow, what a difference over that dreary beige!” She glanced at Jo-Jo, standing on a rung of a short ladder and installing her fan. The window was open to allow fresh air in to dispel the paint vapors. “I had no clue you could get all this done so quickly. It looks fabulous so far.”

“You picking out a darker shade for the end wall with the window gives the optical illusion of a longer room. Good choice. We’ll clean the floor and move in your furniture. Then you can start organizing stuff the way you want it. By the end of the day, no one will recognize this ole closet.”

Jo-Jo was right. While he mopped the tile floor, she hurried out to her car to bring in the pictures she wanted hung and her plants. She helped him carry in the desk furniture and place the rug before bringing in the leather club chairs.

Jo-Jo slipped the hammer from his tool belt. “Now, show Ol’ Jo-Jo where you want these pictures. On the section of wall at either end of the long, narrow window, she wanted framed prints of two of her favorite Monet paintings—Irises and Wooded Scene. On the wall beside the clients’ chairs she wanted framed copies of her diplomas from University of Connecticut, Harvard School of Law, her basketball team at UConn after winning a National Championship, and one of her jumping, making a basket.

“Think you can place them in a large square?”

“Is this you, child?” Jo-Jo stared at the one of her shooting the basket.

“I made All-American with that shot.” She elbowed him. “String music. What a night!”

He smiled wide when he looked at her. “Well, I will be! As tall as you is, I shoulda figured you for an athlete and All-American too! Well, bless my stars.” He got his tape measure out to start marking where he’d hang them.

Meanwhile, she lugged in her palm tree, remembering Boyd’s leaning over to place both the plant and the large pot in her car. She set it in the empty corner so she could look at it whenever she wanted. Dear God, he was a sexy man. Nice too. She unboxed her coat tree and screwed the sections together.

Jo-Jo hung her two plants from the ceiling strips and declared his work done. “The rest is for you to do. Set up your computer, put away your books and files and set out the doo-dads you women like to have in your offices.”

“Thank you. I really didn’t think it would all fit in here with room to move. You proved me wrong.”

“Oh, yee of little faith…” he laughed and ambled up the hallway, pushing his cart holding a ladder, painting supplies and empty paint cans.

By the time Graci-Ella left work that day, her office was up and running. Her files were neatly stored. Files for trials not yet held were stacked on the narrow unit. Shelves were filled with legal books, family pictures and basketball trophies. Everything was organized at last, just the way she liked it. In fact, she was so thrilled with the transformation of her little office, she almost hated to leave it.

Boyd’s aunt dropped him at the station about five hours later. He collapsed onto a chair at the large wooden dining room table, the heels of his hands over his eyes as he mentally shifted from scared dad to macho fireman. He took a deep shuddering breath and straightened. The crew had stopped their various chores to circle around him to ask about Matt. Someone set a cup of coffee in front of him. He gave a mock salute with it. “Thanks.”

After a couple sips, he sat the cup down and laced his fingers at the back of his head. “Matt has pneumonia. They’ve got him on oxygen and an IV of meds. He was sleeping when I left. My aunt’s going home for something to eat, to grab his favorite books and her crocheting. Do you know all the nurses in the ER know him by name? Isn’t that a damn sad state of affairs?”

Jace sat a sandwich in front of Boyd. “Thanks, Jace.”

“Sure. You gotta be emotionally beat. I go nuts when little Andy gets the sniffles and cries all night. My wife stays calm, thank God, because I fall apart. It’s gotta be doubly hard on you, playing both roles.”

This group of co-workers—sometimes pains in the asses, sometimes understanding siblings—were Boyd’s family. They understood the emotional stress he was under. “Did the EMT’s tell you how bad he looked when we got there?”

Ivy Jo rubbed her hands over his shoulders, massaging his tense muscles. “I told them, Tiny. He was weak as a puff of air. As soon as he saw you, his arms rose toward you. He adores his daddy. That much is clear.” She leaned over his shoulder to look into his eyes. “Tiny, we need to get him seen by a specialist in asthma and lung diseases. Want me to look online for some?” She spoke as if this little white boy was her son or nephew. Her genuine concern had Boyd dangling by an emotional thread.