Just One of the Guys(66)

Angela pulls into the parking lot of the firehouse. It’s hard to find a space. As is true after most fires, there are several platoons present, hanging around, dissecting the fire, talking to the guys who saw flame, picking apart the performances of their peers. We get out, grab the pictures (on loan, since Carl wants to gaze upon them some more) and go inside. Mark is in the truck bay, at the center of a knot of firefighters—Dad, Matt, Jake, Santo, George and Helen, Eaton Falls’s only female firefighter.

“Nice save, Mark,” I say as we approach.

“Hey, Sis,” Mark says with a grin. I see now that he’s holding a toy cat, a gift from one of the guys, no doubt. He waves its paw at me. “It was only a cat.” The stuffed animal meows and we all laugh.

“Well, we all know how much you love pussies,” Jake announces.

Mark’s smile drops like lead, and silence falls over the group.

“Jake, keep your mouth shut, ass**le,” Santo says.

“Go clean hose,” my father orders tersely. Jake skulks off. Dad scowls after him, then comes over to me. “Hi, Porkchop. Your brother saved a kitty-cat.”

“So I saw,” I answer. “Check it out, Mark.” Angela and I show him the pictures. His cheeks redden in pleasure.

“You’re blushing, you sexy beast,” Santo coos, and all the guys crack up.

“These pictures are on Yahoo already,” Angela says. Silence falls.

“Wow,” Helen says. “Fame for little old Eaton Falls.”

“Your mother will love these,” Dad murmurs. “I’m gonna call her right now. Yahoo, you say, Porkchop?”

“Dad, this is Angela,” I say. “Angela, my father, Captain Mike O’Neill, and my heroic brother Mark, and my other heroic brother, Matt, and Santo and Helen and the rest of the gang.”

“Hi,” Matt says, smiling.

“Hello,” she says, blushing. How cute.

“Dad,” I say, “we’re doing a feature on local heroes—” Dad rolls his eyes “—and the chief already cleared it, so don’t bother complaining. Angela is our food editor, and she’d like to talk to some of you about firehouse food.”

“This is where I go home,” Helen says.

I grin. “And I’m supposed to interview some guys about saving lives.”

“Chief okayed this?” Dad says with a pained look. I nod firmly. “Fine.” He sighs. “Let’s see, who’s the best cook around here…hm. Matt! You do it, son.”

“Sure,” Matt says. “Want to see the kitchen?” he asks Angela, whose face is bright red. “You’re Trevor’s Angela, right?”

“Um…I…we…” she stammers, and I try not to laugh. My brothers are a handsome lot, but I can’t say that I’ve ever seen a woman quite so affected before. Perhaps now I should tell her about the time Matt dressed up in my pink Easter dress and matching hat when he was six…but no, they’re already off to the kitchen.

“And what else do you need, Porkchop?” Dad asks me.

“Just to talk to some of you about being heroic, manly alpha dogs who risk their lives to save the rest of us poor slobs. Or, in Mark’s case, poor kitty-cats.”

Dad makes a face. “I don’t know, honey. We all kind of hate that crap.”

“That crap is my bread and butter, Daddy. I’m under orders from my editor.”

He sighs. “Fine. You owe me. Who do you want to talk to? Mark?”

“Well, no, since Alan already got him. Plus there’s the family connection, so no O’Neills.”

“Would Jake do?” Dad asks.

“I need someone who can speak in full sentences.”

“Right. Santo? How about you?” Dad asks. “Care to talk to Chastity for the paper?”

“Sorry, Chas. No. How about Helen?” Santo smiles apologetically.

“Helen has left the building,” George offers.

“How about you, then, George?” I ask.

“Yeah…no. Sorry, kid. I gotta go, too. Been here all day.” He pats my shoulder and heads out.

I sigh. I knew it would be like this. Firefighters are a modest bunch. They love what they do, talk about it endlessly with each other. But when it comes to public adulation, they clam up and credit everyone but themselves.

“Sorry, sweetie,” Dad says.

Just then, Trevor appears from the truck bay. “Trevor!” Dad barks. “You’re busted, son. Come over here.”

“Hey, Chastity,” he says. He still smells of smoke, and my stomach lurches at the thought of him in a burning building.

“Were you on the call?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he answers. “I was in for Dave. Mark made a real nice grab.” He grins, and I look away quickly.

“Chastity needs to interview someone for her paper, and no one wants to do it. How about it?”

Trevor makes the same face of pain my father made.

“Come on!” I say. “Please, Trev? My editor won’t believe that no one would talk to me. I’ll probably be fired.” Not true at all. “You don’t want that on your head, do you?”

“Fine.” He sighs. “Where do you want to go?”

“Somewhere quiet,” I say.