Page 8 of What We Break
It’s the ritual. The anchor. He says it every shift.
"Always am," I call back.
I jog to my truck, hopping over the cracked step we still haven't fixed. I crank the engine. 6:30 PM. Just enough time to grab a second coffee on the way in.
The bay doors are open when I pull into the station. The ambulance—Bessie—is gleaming under the fluorescent lights. She’s a beast of a vehicle, boxy and loud, but she’s mine. At least tonight she is.
Tony is doing the equipment check, looking about as enthusiastic as a cat in a bathtub.
"Tony!" I shout, striding across the bay with my arms wide. "My brother in arms! I thought I was suffering through this extra shift with a stranger. What are you doing here?" I never mind working with someone new, but I gotta admit, I'm happy to have my regular partner with me tonight. With someone new, I'm always having to repeat myself or, you know, actually ask for what I need. Tony can read my freaking mind.
Tony sighs, but he bumps my fist when I get close. "Baby needs a crib, Reid. And apparently, cribs cost more than my first car. Angie wants the one made of 'sustainable bamboo' or something."
"The economy is in shambles," I agree solemnly, leaning against the back doors of the rig. Tony's moved past the panic stage into acceptance about the baby. Oh, he's happy to have a kid I'm sure. But I don't think he feels anywhere near ready. He's got about six months to get there though, so I'm not worried. "I’m here for a water heater. It exploded. It was tragic. There was water everywhere, Tony. I almost drowned in my own basement."
He snickers. "So we're both here for the money."
"Mercenaries. That's what we are." I grab the Tupperware he offers. "What is this? Did Angie bake?"
"She made you cookies. She said she felt bad we're working extra."
"Your wife is a saint! A goddess among women!" I pop the lid and inhale the sugar. "Oatmeal raisin? I take it back. She’s trying to kill me." Raisins don't belong anywhere near cookies. It's a fucking sin.
"Shut up and eat them."
"I will, but under protest." I shove a cookie in my mouth and onlygag a little when a raisin gets stuck on my tooth, then hop up into the driver's seat. "What's the word? Are the citizens behaving?"
"Quiet so far."
I gasp, dramatically clutching my chest, crumbs falling onto my uniform. "You fucker! Don't say the Q-word! You've doomed us! Now we’re gonna get a call for a guy with a piece of rebar through his skull."
"Just stating facts, bro." He's acting like he meant to do it, but I see that nervous tick in the corner of his mouth. Asshole knows he jinxed us.
"You're tempting fate, Tony. Fate is a vengeful mistress." I check the mileage log, tapping my pen against the dashboard. "How's the betting pool looking for the festival weekend?" We're short on staff at the best of times. But weekends like this, the demand surges. We could get lucky and end up with a quiet night, but that's about as likely as winning the lottery. Hell, the odds on the lottery are probably better.
"Rodriguez put twenty bucks on 'heat stroke in a furry costume'."
"Solid bet. I'm putting ten on 'food poisoning from the sketchy taco truck'. The one on 5th. That salsa glows in the dark. It’s basically radioactive sludge."
Tony chuckles. "Pretty safe bet. How's Blake? Still sanding wood and brooding?"
"You know Blake. If he’s not covered in sawdust, does he even exist?" I check the mirrors. "He’s restoring some mantelpiece from the dawn of time. I think he loves that wood more than he loves anything. He's literally caressing it right now."
"Man needs a hobby that isn't work."
"I tell him that every day. So, you ready for twelve hours of magic?"
"I'm ready for twelve hours of you not singing."
"No promises. Taylor Swift has a new album, and I have feelings to process."
The radio static cuts through Tony's laughter like a knife.
Medic 4, respond to 412 Oak Street. Possible cardiac arrest.
The joke dies in my throat. I toss the half-eaten cookie onto the dashboard and grip the wheel. The world narrows down to the windshield, the radio, and the map in my head.
"Oak is three minutes out." Too much can happen in three minutes. My job is to get us there as fast as possible, but still in one piece.
