by A. D. Ellis
After telling the young girl at the counter that, yes, they needed to call the boss and shut down long enough to clean the fryer and kitchen area, I helped Dre push the cot toward the rig. Once in the back, I got our patient’s burns treated for the time being, wrist and elbow immobilized, and kept track of his vitals as we headed toward the hospital.
All-in-all, it was a memorable call-out that could have turned out really bad.
The worst part of the whole thing once we knew our guy was delivered and in the care of the hospital?
Our rig smelled like a big ol’ bucket of fried chicken for the rest of the shift.
Dre and I changed our clothes and even opted for our alternate boots, leaving our smelly ones outside to air out, but the smell permeated the bus.
We had four more calls that shift and the three patients who were conscious during their transport all mentioned they smelled fried chicken. Dre and I tackled the rig with cleaning supplies about ninety-minutes before shift change and parked it outside with every door and window open in hopes of airing that funk out.
Julia promised to bring in an air-purifier and said the bus would smell fresh and clean by our next shift.
Of course, by the next shift, all the jokers on the crew decided a fried chicken dinner would be hilarious. Dre and I had been off two days, but I swore the scent of chicken was still in my nose. At least our rig no longer stunk like frying oil.
We’d been back on duty about an hour when Julia sent one of the rookies to find us.
“Julia says she needs you in her office, stat,” the kid said with wide eyes.
Fuck.
Seven
Dre
“This is getting a bit old,” I muttered to Khi as we walked toward Julia’s office. “Was she constantly calling you in like this before?”
“Nope,” Khi bit out.
“Yeah, me neither. It’s like she put together her little dream team and now she wants to play puppet master.”
Khi grunted.
I couldn’t really blame him. It seemed every time we got called into Julia’s office, we somehow ended up being required to spend even more time together. I wasn’t going to complain too much since I was hoping to eventually wear Khi down and patch up the issues between us. But I figured he was getting more and more pissed by the moment since his goal in life seemed to be to hate me and avoid me.
“King, Harris, thanks for coming in,” Julia said as we approached her office. “Sit. I’ll make this quick.”
Quick, but she said nothing about painless.
Tension radiated from Khi in waves and I had the strangest urge to stand behind him and rub out the knots I knew were pulling his shoulders tight.
“If you’ll recall, you both put your names in to represent our department at the Indianapolis First Responders Convention,” Julia started.
I wasn’t surprised that Khi had wanted to go to the convention as much as me. It was rumored to be one of the best around with training sessions, programs, and product displays and demonstrations. Plus, it was super expensive so going as department representation was the only way either of us would have been able to attend.
But Shafer and Dawson had been randomly drawn from all of the entries so I’d shrugged it off and figured they’d come back with good stories for us.
“Well, Shafer’s wife was just put on bed rest and Dawson’s son is going in for a hernia repair. They’re both going to need time off and they’ve pulled from the event.” Julia scribbled something in her notebook as she spoke almost absently. Breaking away from whatever she’d been focused on, she shook her head and raised her brows as she looked across the desk at Khi and me. “Well?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, what was the question?” Khi asked.
Julia frowned. “Damn, sorry, trying to work out these shift changes and schedules. I’m sending the two of you to the convention. You’ll finish this shift and then head to Indy on Friday. We’ll reimburse travel and meals. Everything else is completely covered. Friday through Sunday.” She slid two envelopes across the desk. “All the information is in there. Badges, schedules, all the good stuff.”
Khi cleared his throat. “Is opting out on the table?”
Julia narrowed her eyes at him and steepled her fingers under her chin. “You put your name in to go to this event. Is there a reason my top paramedic would turn down a free trip to learn from experts and see some of the newest and best products available to first responders?”
Yeah, I thought wryly, his reason is sitting right next to him.
Khi cleared his throat. “No, ma’am. I’ll be glad for the experience. Thank you.”
We left the office and headed to the kitchen where we’d originally planned to cook a meal for the challenge. “Think one of the create your own challenges could include one partner throat punching the other?” I semi-joked. “Because it seems like you really want to punch something right now. Namely, me.”
Khi whirled on me and stepped in close.
Do not think about how good he smells.
“Do I want to spend the weekend with you? No. Will I if it means a free trip to a convention I’ve always wanted to attend? Yes.” He breathed slowly through his nose and his jaw bulged. “Let’s get this meal made and the damn picture posted. The less you talk, the less likely I’ll want to punch you.”
We set to work on the food.
And I didn’t shut up.
“What was your favorite food when you were little?” I asked as we prepared four pans of lasagna.
Khi shot me a look and rolled his eyes. “Pizza,” he bit out.
“I loved restaurant pizza, but my parents were always insisting we make our own. The crust was always soggy and it was never as good as the real stuff.” I layered noodles in the greased pan.
“I make a mean homemade pizza,” Khi said absently and then clamped his mouth shut as if realizing he’d spoken. Out loud. To me.
I smiled. “I bet Bev would let us make pizzas one night.” Khi’s jaw tightened and I reeled it back in. “Not like us cooking together, just the whole crew making our own pizzas. You could share your crust secret so we don’t end up with a soggy mess.”
Khi’s face softened a bit. “Yeah, maybe. Bet Hadley would like it.”
We went back to working in silence as we layered noodles, sauce, meat, and cheese in two of the pans. The third pan got just noodles, sauce, and cheese. The fourth pan was chickpea noodles, sauce, zucchini, carrots, squash, onions, and mushrooms.
As was often the way of life at the station, right as the food was coming out of the oven, we got called out. Khi pointed a finger at some of the other crew members as we headed to the rig. “There will be some of that meat and cheese lasagna left when we get back or heads are going to roll.”
That got some laughs and assurances that there was no way they’d eat four entire pans of lasagna during one call-out.
We’d been called to a residence where an elderly woman reported she was stuck on the kitchen counter. The dispatcher couldn’t get much other information from her because she’d dropped the phone.
As we arrived, our radio crackled to life. “I think she’s on the counter because of a mouse. The screaming you hear is every time the mouse runs from the pantry to under the fridge,” the voice reported with a hint of laughter. “She’s been yelling to tell me what happened and that she’s sorry she threw me away.”
Khi’s hand shot out and grabbed my arm. His gray-blue eyes, which Gabby told me he inherited from their mother, were wide with apprehension.
“What?” I asked.
“I don’t do rodents,” he gritted out.
I chuckled. I wasn’t going to make fun of a person for any type of fear, but it was kinda funny to see big, bad, grumpy Khi having to admit he was scared of a mouse.
“Well, suck it up, buttercup.” I parked the bus and radioed that we’d arrived. “I seem to remember a recent call where I communicated my extreme displeasure at having to hold the head of a fucking s
nake while you and the son unwrapped it from the mom’s leg. What was it you said? Our job doesn’t stop for fears. Yeah, I think that was the line.” I opened the door. “Come on, we have a job to do.”
Khi’s light eyes caught fire as he glared at me and climbed from the rig.
“I fucking hate you right now,” he mumbled.
“You fucking hate me all the time, what’s new?” I shot back.
A couple Remington police officers were already on the scene thanks to a call from a neighbor who reported the lady’s screams.
“It’s not even a wild mouse,” Officer Kratz said with a smile. “It looks like a damn pet store mouse that maybe escaped from a cage.”
“Maybe it’s from the snake house a while back,” I said, chuckling. “Escaped being dinner and ended up here.”
Khi and I set to work checking in on the lady who had freaked out and climbed onto her cabinet, bumped an elbow and a knee, and was too scared to get down.
“Well, once I got up here, I wasn’t so sure what to do. My joints are bad and the quick climb set me on fire. No way I was climbing back down, especially since that damn rat was running around.” She pointed a gnarled finger toward the floor.
“Rat?” Khi’s eyes were as wide as saucers and his voice a full octave higher. “Rat or mouse?”
“I saw a tail, didn’t spend any time inspecting.” The lady shivered. “I swear it gets bigger and faster every time it runs across the floor.”
“It’s a mouse,” Officer Sneed reported as he gestured toward Kratz with a wry smile. “Damn man somehow caught the little shit.” He grimaced. “Apologies for the language, ma’am.”
“No apologies needed. I was saying much worse earlier. My phone was up here, but I threw it at the damn rodent. I’ll need to apologize to the kind lady on the other end.” She winced as we slowly picked her up from the counter and moved her to the couch.
“We’ll pass along your apologies,” Khi assured her. “I would have been throwing the phone and anything I could have gotten my hands on. Now, let’s check you out a little bit more and see if you need a trip to the hospital.”
A very proud Kratz joined us with a carboard box in hand as the woman declared, “Oh no, I don’t need the hospital. I’ll take my medications and rest today. I walk a mile on the treadmill every day, so I’ll be back at it tomorrow—don’t want to get too stiff and sore. I’ve got an appointment with my doctor next week so if I’m having any issues, I’ll let her know.”
We finished up with our patient. Khi and I agreed that she didn’t need the hospital and since she wasn’t interested in going it was a quick and easy wrap up for an entertaining call. We bid her goodbye as she settled in on the couch to watch a movie.
Sneed and Kratz were waiting for us outside.
“What do we do with this?” Kratz held the mouse in the palm of his hand.
“You get it the fuck away from me,” Khi demanded.
“You’re the one who caught it like some damn mouse whisperer, it’s your responsibility.” I laughed at the look on Kratz’s face. Definitely hadn’t thought that one through. As we packed up the gear, a thought struck. “But we’re going to need a picture with it first.”
“The hell we are,” Khi grumbled.
“For the challenge. We’ll caption it Saving ALL Lives or some shit like that. It’ll be bonus points. Come on.”
The picture turned out great. Khi and I side-by-side, Kratz behind us, holding the mouse between us—with both hands so Khi would stop bitching. Sneed snapped the picture with my phone and laughed because both Khi and I were giving sidelong glances to the mouse, but our facial expressions were very different. I looked happy and pleased. Khi looked like Kratz was holding a handful of shit.
“Tag me in that,” Kratz said. “Come on, we gotta figure out what to do with this thing. Wonder if anyone has reported a missing mouse,” he muttered as they climbed into their patrol car and took off.
“Should take it to the snake house and say dinner is served,” Khi mumbled.
“That poor mouse didn’t do anything to deserve to be dinner.”
“I didn’t do anything to deserve having to save lives surrounded by rodents,” Khi shot back as I headed the rig toward the station.
“Oh, come on, that wasn’t exactly life-saving and you weren’t surrounded by rodents.”
We snapped some pictures of us with our lasagna once we got back to the station.
“Let’s post these and see if we can get a couple other ones done. I’ll print the copies at home and we can hang them on the board next week.” I started a sink of soapy water for dishes.
Khi huffed and stood beside me. “Smile. Might as well add one for doing the dishes together.” He snapped a picture.
“You actually going to help?”
“Makes my hands all wrinkly,” Khi protested as I rolled my eyes. “I’ll dry and put away.”
“Fair enough, but damn, you’re a finicky one.”
Khi glared at me and grabbed a towel.
Our shift ended several hours later after a few more call-outs and we drove home—separately, of course, even though driving together made so much more sense—and silently went about our routine. We’d get some sleep and then head toward Indy a bit later.
For the first time in forever, I had a tiny bit of hope that maybe something had shifted between Khi and me. There was possibly a tiny bit less tension, not as much animosity. I fell asleep thinking that maybe I was finally breaking through to Khi and we could bury the bad blood between us.
However, that thought flew out the window when we arrived in Indy Friday afternoon. The drive had been uneventful. I let Khi drive, told him I was tired of hauling his ass around…although, I’m pretty sure he would have been happier if we’d driven separately. We easily found parking and made our way to the hotel lobby where several first responders were milling about.
“Nice place,” I said as I pulled the reservation sheet from the envelope Julia had given me.
“Yeah, no wonder I can’t afford to attend on my own dime.”
Khi had reluctantly agreed to go to a couple of the Friday evening presentations with me. We were going to get settled, grab some food, and then find the conference room for the first speaker.
And that would have all gone off without a hitch if we hadn’t walked into our room on the twelfth floor and found out there was only one bed.
Because, of course, there was only one bed.
Khi had stormed out of the room and stalked back toward the elevator. I figured he was either going to demand a separate room or get in his car and drive back to Remington. Thirty minutes later, he was back and seething mad.
“There are no other rooms,” he bit out as he glared at the offending bed.
“It’s a huge bed, we can each take a side. If Shafer and Dawson were going to have to share a bed, I’m sure we can handle it.”
Khi continued to radiate anger.
“I promise I won’t jump your bones during the night as long as you can promise the same.” I tried to keep my tone light and not let on just how interested I’d actually be in jumping his bones.
“That definitely won’t be an issue,” Khi scoffed.
“Then it’s settled. We stay on our own sides, no big deal. I’m already used to dealing with your atrocious snoring, so that won’t be anything new.” I grabbed my small crossbody bag and made sure I had my phone, wallet, room key, and chapstick. “Let’s go, I’m starving.”
Khi narrowed his eyes. “I don’t snore.” He stuffed the room key in his wallet and slid it in his pocket before grabbing his phone.
“You do.” I opened the door and made my way to the elevator.
Khi grumbled something behind me that I couldn’t quite make out and I smiled. He’d probably shut down and retreat to the silent treatment very soon, but I’d enjoy whatever conversation I could get for the time being.
We took an Uber to the Salty Lizard since we’d recently been there and knew the fo
od and drinks were good. The atmosphere had been warm and welcoming during Logan’s birthday party and that was always a plus, especially when in a city you didn’t know all that well.
The waiter, Chase, took our drink orders and quickly returned with water and our beers. “You two look so familiar to me, have you been in before?”
Khi smiled warmly—and it did something to my stomach that Chase got that smile but it was never directed my way. “We were in a while back for a friend’s twenty-first.”
“Right, I knew I recognized you. What brings you back?”
“First responders convention,” I said.
Chase glanced at our logo shirts. “Ah, yeah, I should’ve guessed. We’ve been packed with attendees. Wouldn’t mind being a fly on the wall at the convention center this weekend; I bet the place is overflowing with eye candy.”
Khi snorted. “It’s definitely got some perks. Nothing like some logo shirts and fine-fitting jeans or the ever-popular grey sweatpants.”
My gut clenched at the thought of Khi checking out other guys. Which was ridiculous because he didn’t belong to me and he was gay, so of course, he’d check out other guys. At least with a shared room, I didn’t have to worry about him bringing someone back.
Chase went to put our order in.
“Speaking of jeans and sweats,” Khi started after taking a long swallow of his beer, “and don’t think this is the start of a long, bonding session,” he warned. “For someone so into creating fashion, you don’t seem to be all dolled up very often.”
I shrugged. “I’m a bit of an oddball, I guess. Obviously, I love color and will include splashes of that wherever I can.” I stuck out my foot from under the table and pulled up my pants to reveal a brightly colored sock. “I adore imagining and creating a look, bringing it to life, seeing it on a person. But a lot of my love for fashion is here,” I tapped my head, “and here,” I put a hand over my heart, “it doesn’t always transfer to what I wear on a day-to-day basis. I guess my comfy, practical side wins out in that aspect.”