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Garrett glanced from
his pathetic hand to the slowly growing pot
in the center of the table. The opening ante of two chocolate-covered pretzels
and a white chocolate peppermint Hershey kiss was joined by a variety of
Tootsie Rolls, Dum-Dums, and a Blow Pop. Not a healthy snack in the bunch, not
that Garrett minded. The two eights, five,
Jack and King he had weren’t going to win it
for him. Still, he’d try for some better cards, tapping the tabletop so Donald
could hit him with three.
Six, ten, and alright, there was a third eight. Three-of-a-kind was something at least.
“I call,” Jackson declared after everyone had tossed in another candy.
Garrett spread his
cards on the table in front of him, only to groan in frustration along with
Jackson, Donald, and Jake, when for the
fifth time in a row Andy won the pot, this time with a Jack high straight.
“Son of a bitch,
seriously, how’d you get all the luck for
the night?” Jake remarked as he collected the cards so he could deal.
“You get lucky every
time you go home,” Andy shot back, referring
to Jake’s hot-blooded, red-headed wife. The man showed up to his shifts looking like a teenager after a wild
Saturday night, rumpled, bleary-eyed, and
sporting hickeys on more than just his neck.
“You’re god-damned
right I do.”
They shared a laugh at
that while Jake shuffled, Garrett cut, and Jake was just about to deal when their station’s newest rookie came
bounding up the steps like an over-eager golden retriever.
“Kitchens clean,” he
announced. “I even got the caked-on grease off the
pan the roast was in. That took forever. I cannot believe how quiet it
is tonight, it’s deader than…”
“NO!” Donald barked.
“Oh man,” Garrett
groaned.
“Tell me he did not
just say that,” Andy said, setting the cards down on the table with a sigh.
“What?” The rookie,
Brian, said as he stood behind Andy’s seat,
staring down at the table. “Can you deal me in?”
“I’m not going to bother dealing to anyone since you just said the Q-word,” Andy
declared.
“Q-word? What do you mean!”
“He means you jinxed
the whole shift!” Garrett said.
“Oh come on. You can’t
seriously believe that saying quiet is going
to suddenly make the bells go….”
“Off,” Jackson
deadpanned as they did just that.
“Son of a bitch!” Donald groaned.
“Told you!” Andy said
as he shoved his chair back, nearly wiping the rookie out. Brian barely got out
of the way in time, sputtering apologies as they rushed for their gear. Was too late for all that now. They’d had less than an hour left before Garrett
could get home to Mouse and arrange an afternoon with him and Cas. Now the best he could hope for was to be a couple of hours
late.
They were in their
turnout gear and on the truck in no time, the rookie still mumbling apologies
loud enough that everyone now knew what he had done. They’d make him pay for it
too, with cleanup jobs around the stationhouse. For now, they rushed down the
street, lights and sirens wailing.
Structural fire.
Apartment complex.
These were some of the worst. No clue how many people would have gotten out by the time they arrived, and no telling how many might be trapped. Garrett shot a quick text off to Mouse, letting him know that he’d be late and that he loved him and would see him soon, then he tucked the phone back under the seat of the fire truck.
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