CHAPTER EIGHT | OLIVIA
When I was training to be an EMT back in Rhode Island, my instructors had warned me about the inherent challenges that came with being a paramedic.
They had stressed that it wasn’t enough to merely memorize the ins-and-outs of respiratory failure, or learn how to operate a portable defibrillator. According to my instructors, EMTs had to be prepared to deal with the unthinkable; they had to be be willing to work through whatever obstacles or challenges fell into their path…
“Something tells me that this wasn’t the sort of ‘challenge’ they had in mind,” I muttered sourly.
Between my two outstretched arms I was carrying not one, not two, but three strategically balanced cardboard drink trays, each fully-loaded with a ridiculous assortment of decadent caffeinated beverages from the Starbucks around the corner.
It was my first day on the job as Hartford Fire Department’s newest EMT, and I was officially on coffee duty.
I had assumed that the day would be spent shuffling through new-hire paperwork, going over policies and procedures, and meeting my new colleagues.
Nope.
Instead, my new boss had passed me a notepad and tasked me with going around the office to collect coffee orders from the rest of the staff — including the interns.
And that was how I found myself waddling across the Hartford Fire Department parking lot with a dozen rapidly-melting Frappuccinos and iced lattes balanced precariously between my arms.
I was still a few paces away from the department’s main entrance when a voice suddenly boomed from behind me. “You look like you could use a hand!”
I startled, jumping up. The drinks sloshed around, and a hearty streak of vanilla bean Frappuccino mixed with frothy, melted whipped cream splashed all over my arm.
“Fuck!”
“Careful!” the same voice chuckled. My eyes flicked up and locked onto a scrawny guy in an EMT uniform.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” he said, offering me his hand. “I’m Scott Fuller.”
“Nice to meet you, Scott,” I said, plastering on my best attempt at a friendly smile. “I’m Olivia Beck. And I would shake your hand, but you might end up covered in caramel macchiato…”
“That’s fine by me,” he chuckled again, acknowledging the three Starbucks trays that I was clutching onto. “I’m always down to share a drink with a beautiful woman!”
My smile melted faster than the green tea Frappuccino that was balanced in the crook of my arm. I blinked at Scott in disbelief.
“Did you just—” I started to ask, but then I bit my tongue.
Don’t go there, Olivia. This is your first day… don’t cause a scene.
I glanced down at the caramel macchiato that was at the edge of the tray balanced on my right hand. The name ‘Gia’ was scribbled in Sharpie on the side of the plastic cup.
“Well Scott, as much as I would love to dunk this caramel macchiato over your head right now, I don’t think Gia would appreciate that very much,” I said in a playful tone that barely disguised the tension in my voice.
Scott didn’t miss a beat.
“That’s fine,” he shrugged. “Save the macchiato for Gia. I’m sure that you and I can find something else for you to spill on me after work tonight. There’s this bar called Rusty’s—”
“It’s really hot out here!” I stammered, cutting him off before he could finish making that invitation. “Uh… I should… get these drinks inside before they melt!”
I waddled quickly towards the set of glass doors at the front of the building and Scott slinked behind me, babbling about the craft beer selection at some bar in town called Rusty’s Tavern.
When it became clear that Scott wasn’t going to offer any assistance in getting the door open, I carefully shifted the drink trays around in my arms and hooked my pinky through the door handle, prying it open. Then I kicked it open the rest of the way with my heel, then I squeezed myself through the gap.
All of the EMTs on staff at Hartford Fire Department reported to the Emergency Services Division, which occupied a block of cubicles and offices at the department headquarters.
That was the same maze of offices and cubicles that I found myself navigating as I distributed coffee drinks to my new coworkers.
Scott persistently trailed me around the office until I made a sharp turn for the office of Tony Perkins, director of the Emergency Services Division and my new boss.
Today was only my first day working under Perkins, but I already had a pretty good idea of what kind of a boss he was going to be…
“One venti quad-shot breve iced white chocolate mocha with seven pumps of raspberry syrup,” I announced as I presented the partially congealed concoction to my new boss.
“Finally!” He swiped the drink from my hand and hurriedly stabbed a green straw through the plastic lid on the cup. Then he reclined in the chair behind his desk and stared up at me.
“Listen, Beck,” he said sternly. “I know this is your first day, but taking forty-five minutes to pick up a few cups of coffee from the Starbucks next door is really inexcusable.”
“I—”
“Time management is crucial when you’re an EMT,” he continued, pausing to take a long sip through the green straw. “When that 911 call comes in over the radio, you don’t have time to twiddle your thumbs. You’ve got to go.”
“I understand,” I said, forcing myself to swallow all of my words of protest. I nodded firmly. “I apologize, sir. It won’t happen again.”
“Good,” Perkins nodded. “This is why I don’t send new EMTs out into the field. If you can’t even handle a simple task like picking up coffee, how am I supposed to trust you with people’s lives?!”
I bit down harder on my tongue until I could taste blood.
Is he seriously judging my competence as an EMT based on how urgently I managed to fill his Starbucks order?!
“Let’s keep you on desk duty for the rest of the week,” he said. “Maybe if you really wow me, we can arrange a ride-along with another EMT.”
There was a time, not too long ago, when I had been one of the most respected EMTs on my crew back in Rhode Island. I had worked hard to earn that reputation, and I was damn proud of it.
Then the incident had happened, and all of those years of hard work and perseverance had gone down the drain.
I knew that getting my fresh start in Hartford meant that I would be starting from square one; building my entire career all over again from the ground up. I knew that I couldn’t bring my past reputation or my accomplishments with me when I moved to Hartford… but I had hoped to bring the same work ethic and determination that had helped me climb to the top in the first place.
Now, as Perkins glared up at me from his desk, I wondered if the incident had cost me those traits, too. Maybe I had lost more than I realized; maybe I had left more of myself back in Rhode Island.
“You can go back to your desk now, Beck,” Perkins snapped. “Those incident reports aren’t going to file themselves…”
“Yes, sir,” I nodded, then I turned on my heel and walked back through the office.
My assigned desk was at the far end of the division office, in a cramped cubicle that I shared with Gia Rogers.
Gia: the designated recipient of the mostly-melted caramel macchiato that was sweating beads of condensation in the cardboard drink tray, next to my plain drip coffee.
“Special delivery,” I smiled meekly as I rounded the corner into my cubicle and presented Gia with her drink. She spun around in her desk chair and grinned up at me.
“Perfect timing!” she cheered, pumping her arms enthusiastically into the air. “I was just starting to crave a little mid-morning pick-me-up!”
At least someone isn’t complaining about my time management, I thought to myself as I dropped into the empty desk chair opposite Gia and sighed.
“First day blues?” Gia asked gently.
“Nah,” I shrugged. “I’m just…” my voice trailed off and I shook my head.
“It’s ok,” Gia assured me. “Everyone is miserable when they first start out here. I know Perkins seems like a total asshole right now, but trust me, he gets better.”
Then, cocking her head thoughtfully, she added, “Or maybe you just get better at ignoring him?”
“Let’s hope so…” I smiled gratefully.
Gia and I hadn’t spent much time together yet, but I could already tell that I liked her. I could also tell that we were complete opposites; her side of the cubicle was proof of that.
The spongy grey walls on Gia’s side of the cubicle were adorned with a collage of pictures and inspirational quotes and drawings and scrap of colorful paper…
My eyes scanned over the wall decorations until my eye caught on something. I frowned and leaned forward in my seat to get a better look.
“Is that—”
Gia turned around, following my gaze.
“Oooh, that!” she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively when she saw what I was looking at. “That is the annual Firehouse 56 calendar.”
“Firehouse 56? As in—”
“Uh-huh,” she gave me a saucy nod. “Hartford’s finest!”
“Wow. I didn’t realize they had a calendar…”
“Seriously? Everybody knows about the calendar! It’s kind of a legend around here!”
“Can I see it?” I asked.
Gia smirked as she carefully unstuck the calendar from the cubicle wall, then she hugged the calendar to her chest.
“I have to warn you,” she said, “It’s pretty… hot.”
“Like… not safe for work?” I frowned.
“Let’s just say it straddles the line,” Gia winked as she passed me the calendar.
I studied the front cover of the calendar as I settled behind my desk, then I slowly opened to the first page: the month of January.
“Oh, wow,” I said. My eyes went wide as they landed on dark-haired fireman who was suggestively gripping a hose over his pelvis.
“I’ll give you some privacy,” Gia said, spinning around in her chair so that her back was to me.
I flipped to February and found an equally steamy spread featuring a shirtless fireman on the back of an engine.
I flipped the page again, and this time my eyes froze.
The man in the photograph was pulling his shirt up and the bottom half of his abdomen was revealed: two columns of perfect, chiseled muscles. His v lines curved over his hip bones, and he was wearing a pair of Nomex turnout pants that hung low… almost too low…
Oh…
I felt something awaken inside me; something that I hadn’t felt in a long time. Swirls of heat and excitement twirled and twisted inside me, things that I had thought I wasn’t capable of feeling ever again.
Now I felt all of those things at once. It felt strange and dangerous… like playing with fire.
I gulped as my eyes wandered down the page, landing at the waist of those pants.
I forced my eyes back up. His arms were raised over his head, and the motions of removing his shirt had forced his thick biceps to swell.
My eyes followed the curves of his thick arms, and then I found his face.
That’s when my jaw fell open and a tiny little gasp fluttered out of my lips.
“I told you it was hot,” Gia teased, spinning around in her chair. She glanced at the calendar and added: “You like Mr. March, huh?”
“Uh…”
“His name is Duke Williams,” Gia said.
I know… I thought to myself. He’s my roommate…
“I’m pretty sure he’s single,” Gia wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “And I heard he had a thing for blondes… you might be his type!”
I realized that I had started to absently twist a lock of my blonde hair around my index finger. I immediately yanked my hand away, pulling out a few strands of hair in the process.
Then I slammed the calendar shut and passed it back to a shocked looking Gia.
“Maybe,” I shrugged indifferently. “But he’s definitely not my type.”