Page 9 of The Troll’s Summer Flame

“Ah.” Andrea’s face falls. “Well, thank you so much again. If I go there, I’ll check it out and see if there’s anything that might help me stop from going into a boredom coma.”

“If you need help, give us a call. Not with the coma. Or, yes, with the coma, if it’s not from boredom.” I wave. Andrea waves and walks away slowly, eyes roving all the trucks and equipment that are in this section of the station.

When she clears the building, Captain Sunderland is suddenly behind me. “Gordon?” he says in the voice that usually means something catastrophic is coming.

“Who died?” I demand.

I’m surprised as hell when my captain reaches out with his copy of the paper, takes a little leap, and bops me on the head with it. “What?” I sputter. “Huh, why?”

“That girl likes you! She wanted you to ask her out, or at least to go do something with her. That stupid speed date thing!”

“She did? No, she didn’t. She couldn’t have.”

“My God, boy, what is wrong with you? You’re built like a gosh dang superhero, you’re a fucking fireman, you saved her cat, and she brought you cookies!” Sunderland is turning a pale plum color.

“Sir. Drink water.”

“No!” Another swing with his paper. He doesn’t leap this time, so it catches me under the chin, and I growl a little.

That doesn’t scare Sunderland.

“I will not drink water! You go ask her out. Now! March!”

“But... But she doesn’t want me to! She’s just bored.”

“And do you know what makes a girl a whole lot less bored? Having a strong, strapping real-life goddamn hero buy her ice cream and take her to the movies. And she’s cute! She’s cute, and she’s talented, and she has brains, a job, and she’s good with kids.” Another frantic swing with the paper, this time as if he’s brandishing a sword, fighting back a swashbuckling pirate. “Go. After. That. Girl! That’s an order!” Each word earns a slap, and the final command is accompanied by a whole flurry of newspaper fisticuffs.

“I’m on duty!” I dodge. Easily.

“I’ll cover!”

“But you’ve already worked all day! I just got here an hour ago!” I don’t want to strike a human, even though his display of aggression makes me growl and clench my fists.

Sunderland suddenly changes tactics. He clutches his left arm dramatically. “Ohhh. Ah! My arm. Radiating pains. Left side.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I’ll go out on medical leave. I have high cholesterol. I’ll tell Carolyn you gave me an episode.”

I blink and back farther away. “You wouldn’t.” Carolyn Sunderland is built along the lines of Andrea, but plump and graying. She looks so sweet when she helps out at the Fireman’s Breakfast, serving up pancakes, but piss her off, and she’ll backhand you with a hot spatula faster than I can slide down a pole.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I will. Unless you go after that girl and ask her to get a coffee. Or bowl. Make pottery. Be creative, damn it!”

I cannot be creative. I can barely pretend to be human. Or non-threatening.

But Carolyn Sunderland scares me, and I still don’t like the chief’s color. “I’m going. She’s going to say no.”

“Bet you a pizza.”

“You should not eat pizza. You have high cholesterol,” I mutter and stomp off.

Andrea is getting into her car, and I know I shouldn’t stare, but I do. She is short, compared to me, even compared to other women that I know, yet she has long, long legs. She is suddenly fifty percent to seventy percent legs. This shouldn’t be fascinating, but it is. Her legs look slender and tapered. Spindly. Little. Weak.

One could never call a troll female’s legs spindly. Humans look so very breakable, which is one reason it feels nice to be a firefighter, so I can protect them—and it’s amazing to join in their society and see how even the most fragile fight to save each other.

“Wait.”