Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 46257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
CHAPTER TWO
Ash
A day off or several days off is what the chief wants from me. He actually orders me.
Springing it on me first thing on a Monday morning too.
“A week?” I groan, noticing the red marker that he uses to update the roster.
He draws a long, thick line through the squares filled with my name.
“You’ve ignored my warning about the need for downtime. And you’ve ignored the department’s recommendations for retirement too long, Ash,” he frowns, looking hard as granite before softening his features.
“If you weren’t the best damned Captain this station’s ever seen, I’d insist on your retirement,” he says, eyeing the roster and winking at me. Clicking his tongue as he notes all the extra shifts I’ve already agreed to cover for some of the other guys in advance.
His bulldog face and bushy gray mustache pucker up behind the empty cherry wood pipe he has stuck in his mouth whenever he’s on duty.
Off-duty, Stack’s pipe is always full and blowing so much smoke it’s a no-brainer where he got his nickname.
Stack. As in chimney stack.
“…and no bumming around the station either. I wanna see you on a proper vacation or something,” he cautions me, finally relaxing and shaking his head with a faint smile.
I quiz him with my eyes, not sure if the man’s starting to slip in his old age. I mean, if we’re talking retirement, Stack should’ve hung up his helmet and suspenders long ago. But he’s not pressuring me to retire. No.
Just some time off.
“I guess you can’t keep a man from doing his duty. But Christ, Ash. Thirty-seven days straight?” he reflects thoughtfully, picking up on my feelings about my own self-imposed and relentless work schedule.
His small, pale eyes blink up at me as I tower over his short desk. His office is no more than a broom closet which always makes me self-conscious on account of my size whenever he hauls me in for a grilling.
“And what about you, Chief?” I ask, “When was the last time you…?” I try to ask, but he won’t have any of it.
“It’s an order, Ash. Not up for discussion, capeesh?” he barks, reaching for a match and checking the empty bowl of his pipe before growling to himself once he remembers where he is.
No smoking in or around the station. That’s a rule even the chief can’t bend, let alone break.
Kind of a custom, I guess. The pipe lights up when he gets on the scene of a blaze. He's a different man from a different time, but he’s got the respect of more than just the whole station and crew.
More than just mine too.
Stack is more like a father figure than my boss, I guess. But I always cringe internally at the ‘F’ word.
Fatherhood’s something I’ve always dreamed of, just never found the right girl who could put up with a guy married to the department.
Or maybe I just haven’t found the one yet.
Plus, I never had a great example of what a father should be like growing up myself, either.
“Alright. Alright,” I chuckle, holding both hands up in surrender.
“I just don’t wanna see you doing more than you have to if I’m not around, Chief. Maybe you could take some time off when I get back?” I suggest diffusing his nicotine-craved tension and making him give another little smile.
Holding up a pink slip, Stack informs me that’s already taken care of.
“Already done,” he remarks, beaming with pride as he stands up, eyeing the door to signal the pow-wow’s over.
“You’ll be sitting’ here soon enough, Chief of the District, let alone this station if you’d stop ignoring all those god damned promotions and commendations,” he reminds me.
I look up at the ceiling, rolling my eyes. The memory of me standing up the chief and half the battalion at the Mayor’s office still makes him shake his head years later.
Skip one stupid medal ceremony, and everybody loses their minds.
“I was pulling a guy from a burning oil refinery, Stack. Kinda got held up on the way,” I remind him, and he slams his hand down loudly on the desk.
“On your day off!” he barks, “I mean it, Ash, take some time off and stop trying to save the whole fucking world every time you go out your door. We can manage without you just fine.”
Stack’s face softens as soon as he says it.
“You know what I mean. We can manage a few days without you,” he murmurs, practically wringing his hands as he eyes me, then the door again.
His pipe twitches in his mouth, calling him to a different kind of action.
“I know what you mean, Chief,” I reply, curling my lip and glancing at his pipe. “Go for a walk, Stack. You’ll feel better,” I advise him, taking my own turn to shake my head as he grunts impatiently.