Soaring (Magdalene #2)(157)
“I’m a citizen of Magdalene and I’m doing just that,” Boston returned.
“I would assume you’re in the minority,” she retorted.
“Please don’t assume, Louise,” Boston replied condescendingly, shifting some papers. “To that end, I’ll present you with a requested action, voted approved by the members of the Magdalene Club, that this referendum be deferred until further research into the need of fire services and the funds allocated to that need are thoroughly researched. After which we call for a report to be offered to the citizens prior to an open public vote on this issue.”
Bobby twisted his neck, gave Mickey a dour look, mouthed, “Asshole,” and turned back.
Councilman Whitfield held up his hand resignedly and invited, “I’ll have a look at that if you don’t mind, Boston.”
“Not at all,” Boston murmured into the microphone in front of him, moved from the podium, presented the papers to Whitfield and returned to the podium. “As you’ll see in the addendum attached to that paper that a goodly number of businessmen and women in this community, who voted that action, are concerned about this issue.”
“In other words, the rich folk, thinkin’ they’re high and mighty and their money should get them attention, wanna throw a fit about somethin’ none of us get but if they get their way, could put us in danger,” a man called from the gallery.
Whitfield looked from his study of the papers over the reading specs he’d slid on in the direction of the voice. “Tom, if you have something to say, we ask you say it during your turn at the podium.”
“And make me listen to this crap in the meantime?” Tom, who I saw was the Tom who ran The Shack on the wharf, returned.
“Everyone has a voice in this meeting and if a citizen takes their time to share their thoughts with this council, as servants to this town, it’s our duty to listen,” another council member replied.
“Not if their thoughts are full of it and it isn’t worth your time,” Tom shot back.
There was a titter and I caught Mickey grinning at his lap.
“Tom—” the council member started but was interrupted when someone else spoke up.
“This is crazy. The boys at the MFD volunteer. And just last week, they put their asses on the line, makin’ sure the entire jetty didn’t go up in flames like it could have.”
“I’d ask you to refrain from using coarse language, Jeff,” the council woman named Louise requested firmly.
“What else would you call it?” Jeff asked. “Straight up fire or fire damage closed down that whole shopping area and if the worst happened, those same things coulda took out the folks fightin’ it. I call that puttin’ your ass on the line. Now, no disrespect, Louise, but I didn’t hear about you in your gear fightin’ that blaze. I sure as hell didn’t hear about Stone doin’ it.”
That got another titter.
“They aren’t all asking for salaries,” someone else called loudly. “They want one salary for one guy. Town’s over two hundred years old and we never paid a single firefighter. Only pay a chief and he acts for the whole county so we don’t even pay his full salary. Think it’s about time we did that. Shoot, if it was up to me, they’d all get paid.”
“Yeah,” Jeff said.
“I agree,” a woman piped up.
“How about that,” Tom put in, standing. He looked around. “Who’s for a deferral of the vote so the council can take a look at this referendum and find some blasted money to pay all our boys who wear a fire helmet?”
“Me!” Jeff shouted.
“That’s got my vote,” the woman yelled.
“Me too!” a new man called, standing up to do it.
“I’m in too!” a woman added, also standing up and doing it continuing to speak. “We don’t do this, what’s next? We ask all the sheriff’s officers to do their jobs volunteer too? That’s crazy!”
A gavel banged and Councilman Whitfield called, “Quiet!”
Tom wasn’t quiet.
He looked to Boston and remarked, “You know, Stone, just because a pretty girl prefers a firefighter to you doesn’t mean all the boys at that firehouse need to suffer for you bein’ jilted. Far’s I know, you got served this lesson at least once before. Learn, son. You may actually land a girl one day if you stop actin’ like an ass.”
Oh God, he was referring to Mickey and me.
Small town.
Someone kill me.
I felt my cheeks flush as I sunk in my seat because several eyes turned Mickey and my way.
Yes.
Somehow they all knew.
Someone…kill me.
“Cool, Dad,” Cillian stated under his breath but under it for a boy his age, which meant he did it loudly. “You beat out Boston Stone for Amy? Awesome!”
“Right! Quiet! Order!” Whitfield commanded on another bang of his gavel.
Before anyone could disobey, he trained his eyes again over his specs on Boston and continued speaking.
“I’ve had a quick read of this, Boston, and I’m sorry to say that the current referendum we’re discussing was communicated to the citizens of Magdalene for their examination four months ago via our usual procedures, which means anyone could access and study it thoroughly. That time allowed plenty of opportunity for any resident of this town to share with the members of this council their concerns or to be present at this meeting to have their voice. The names on this document represent a negligible percentage of the inhabitants of our town and thus, I must say, it really carries no sway during these proceedings.”