The Chief’s parting email for A-shift was direct but vague. They were to report for their next shift on Friday by 0800 and be in their dress uniforms by 0900. They’d worn the uniforms to a ceremony commemorating the events of 9/11 the week before, but this was not related to that.
Per orders, Erin came out of the locker room in her navy dress uniform. She stopped short, passing the captain’s office. Chief Baker stood in his full fire chief dress regalia, a ton of metal on his chest with every bar, insignia, and five Maltese crosses designating twenty years of service. His blazer was perfectly tailored from its five gold braided sleeve stripes to his full Windsor, enhancing his lines in a way that made her feel dumpy. The department had barely altered the seams from the men’s uniforms for the women. Chief Baker’s mandatory white gloves were spotless, not even wrinkled by the large gold chief’s ring on his right hand.
She ignored her impulse to make an impertinent comment or ask if she could mess up Baker’s neat, graying, blonde hair. There was a reason they had been ordered into their dress blues.
Damn, the man could fill out a uniform.
Baker was talking to Matteo Soto, also in his dress blues, adorned with the double bars of the rank of captain with ten Maltese crosses. The rumor of his deteriorating lung problem was likely true, based on the weight he’d lost since his retirement. While she felt bad about his illness, it didn’t make her any happier to see him. Anyone who messed with her team was eternally on her shit list. Her first six months in Ohio had been blissful, followed immediately by cratering. So much could have been different if he had acted differently. Refusing to recommend Aiden for captain was low but requesting special consideration for Luna was plain underhanded.
Fortunately, she knew how to keep it inside when it came to authority, unless the Chief was concerned.
Her teammates came out of the locker room behind her. Aiden was in front, and his face turned an interesting shade of green upon seeing Soto. Their former captain hadn’t shown his face in the firehouse.
“Tio?” warbled the questioning voice of Luna, breaking their impasse. She seemed surprised to see her uncle here, though Erin was fairly certain Luna saw him once a week for dinner after they’d patched things up.
Her uncle’s lined face tried to smile, looking anywhere but at Aiden. “Hello. I’m here for the press conference.”
“Press conference?” Erin asked.
“Yes,” Soto said, “the press conference for the long-awaited new initiatives of the Cleveland Fire Department.”
“I believe it’s ‘Cuyahoga Combined Fire Department’ now,” a clipped voice declared. A towering, bald, African-American man strode in, wearing the double bars of Captain and two crosses. “Isn’t that correct, Chief?”
Baker ignored the man’s surly demeanor. “Welcome home, Captain Williams.”
“It’s almost nine. Will we be starting on time? I understand our service area is covered for the festivities,” the new captain continued briskly, never addressing Soto or his new team.
“You have coverage by Firehouse 19 until 1400. Everything is ready outside,” Baker said.
“Good. Fall into two lines on either side of the stage.” Captain Williams strode to the barn doors to hit the garage door button. The doors revealed a stage and podium surrounded by the rest of the chiefs, the press, and the PR reps waiting in their driveway.
The A-shift split in half with the officers on one side and the rest of the team on the other. They stood at attention, mostly facing the podium and trying to block out the distractions from the press.
Chief Baker was the first to take the podium. “I’m Fire Chief Noah Baker, and I would like to welcome you to Firehouse 15. You may not be aware that this was the site of my rookie year. I was lucky to train under the tutelage of our recently retired Captain Matteo Soto. Therefore, it is only fitting that here is where we usher in the new era.”
Erin watched the entire proceeding with growing suspicion. They had been used. The Chief wasn’t solely concerned about earning their trust. They were his ideal prototype firehouse, especially since they contained three of the five female firefighters in the entire department. He was committed enough that he’d dragged Soto into this dog and pony show, regardless of the mess his retirement had created.
So much for believing in them and earning their trust.
“Almost four years ago, the suburban fire departments joined with the Cleveland FD, making us the largest fire department in Ohio. This was not without sacrifice, as we began an uphill battle. Twenty firehouses were closed, our paramedic system was in tatters, and a single dispatch center served a county of two million people. Our firefighters, carrying outdated equipment, risked their lives fighting fires understaffed and demoralized,” he continued firmly with the fervor of a preacher.
The newspaper reporters were eating out of his hand, so it was obviously working.
“I swear to you all, that ends today. Three years ago, you gave me your faith, and today, I deliver. We have received over 300 million dollars in combined federal, state, and local funding to upgrade and update our department. The first step in our turnaround is welcoming home one of our own, Captain Jacen Williams, who left us four years ago to serve our country as a troubleshooter in FEMA.”
Their new captain waved briefly, and Baker continued. “Twenty years ago, he stood by my side at Ground Zero, and today, he returns with a wellspring of unmatched experience and an undying love for our city.”
Captain Williams took the microphone, his face inscrutable. “Thank you, Chief Baker. I am honored to have been selected for this important role. I was born and raised in Cleveland; I grew up in the Dawg Pound at Cleveland Municipal Stadium, I cheered for the Indians at the Jake, and I’ve suffered with you since 1999. I cried when the Cavs retired the Cape of Sadness with their championship win. I am one of you, and it means the world to me to be home. I’m back, and I look forward to the future… and another winning Browns season!”
Erin highly doubted this dour man cried over a basketball championship. However, considering the pride with which people in Cleveland wore the brown and orange of their football team, it was possible.
Baker stepped up next to Williams, setting one hand on his shoulder. “In the light of everything, it is a misnomer to call ourselves the Cleveland Fire Department. With the blessings of all the mayors of each city and village, today we are reborn the ‘Cuyahoga Combined Fire Department.’ In the next twelve months, we’re re-opening ten of the closed firehouses and building five more specifically tailored to different neighborhoods. Our other fifty stations will be receiving updates and upgraded equipment throughout the year. We also open two new dispatch centers today and will upgrade our current one this year.
“Not only that, we intend to double the size of our recruiting class. It will take time, but the future of CCFD will reflect our diverse community, just as Firehouse 15 embodies our future. For anyone listening, I don’t care about your gender identity, your sexual orientation, your religion, your race. I only care if you are dedicated enough to serve our community. If that is you, then I promise you have a place here in the CCFD.
“Finally, I want to announce the birth of Rescue Alpha. This team will consist of our advanced trauma and life support trained firefighter-paramedics and will respond to the most serious illnesses in the city. Partnered with MetroGen and our new six-month paramedic training course, we are going to revolutionize emergency care in our county. I will turn it over to Hannah Fitzpatrick who will outline the next five-year plan for CCFD.”
A woman in her mid-fifties and an expensive suit dress climbed the stairs and began speaking about diversity, welcoming women and minorities, and expanding different social programs. She spoke glowingly about building bridges in communities and their partnerships with the police, city, and hospital systems.
While the speeches continued about the new initiatives, Erin flushed with shame. She’d allowed her hormones to take control. They made her overlook everything she already knew about the Chief. He never did anything for one reason. Baker was ruthless, cutthroat, and willing to use them to get ahead. If he was attracted to her, it was an impulse to ignore and suppress.
It was no comfort Williams didn’t seem any happier than she was. He gave no more than a passing acknowledgment to Soto, practically recoiled from the Chief, and waited for the conclusion of the press conference with visible impatience.
Ten more minutes passed, and Fitzpatrick finally finished answering questions. She thanked everyone and reminded them they were doing a CCFD-MetroGen event in the Pediatric Clinic. After her descent, she departed in a black town-car with four young women following her on foot the four blocks to MetroGen. The battalion and section chiefs similarly departed.
The team marched back in to line up in the barn. Soto stood with them at the front of the line, next to Luna. Aiden lined up between Vanessa and Kevin, avoiding the head of the line and Captain Soto.
Williams began a slow march past them, thoroughly inspecting each of their uniforms. “I am your new captain. The first thing you need to learn about me is that I believe the department is a family, and discipline is essential for survival. Even in this moment, when we don’t have calls, we should be preparing for the next emergency. We can never let our guard down, or it costs lives. Discipline and protocol keep the family alive.”
No one moved. Never had anyone sounded less like family than this unfriendly man.
“Today, while I review your training records and files, I want the team to perform long rig maintenance. I want a mid-shift lineup today at 1700. I expect you to present fully dressed at 0900 for morning line up and uniform inspection. Lunch will be served at 1300 daily after a minimum of 90 minutes of physical training and one hour of educational sessions.”
The group was doing the math. The captain appeared to be cutting out morning team breakfast from his calculation. It would take at least an hour for truck maintenance, over an hour for PT, and one more for education, which left barely enough time to get the shift groceries and make a meal. Presuming they didn’t have to go on any calls.
He continued sternly, “Every day at 1400, I have open captain’s hours for coffee in my office rather than imposing on your mealtime. I encourage the free exchange of ideas between my staff.”
The rest of the team had to be wondering what his version of ‘encourage’ meant. The authoritative tone was an interesting method of achieving trust.
“You are dismissed to change into your regular uniforms. Your current attire appears adequate. I expect perfection in uniforms and dress because it shows attention to detail. We live or die on adherence to protocol, and I expect nothing less from my team. This afternoon we will begin comprehensive department SOP reviews.”
SOP stood for ‘standard operating procedure’ which was a 300-page dry manual. Oh, goody.
“For all of us or the probie?” Luna squeaked.
“The review is for everyone. With an under-strength shift, everyone needs to master everything. I’ll be covering this shift initially for around sixteen hours daily to get your measure.”
“Our shift has the fastest response times and best victim recovery,” Luna retorted hotly.
Knowing his niece well, Soto intervened, noticeably breathless but still authoritative. “That’s enough, Lieutenant. She is correct that due to smaller numbers, we have encouraged initiative among the officers. This shift is known for its initiative.”
“I appreciate your input,” Williams said dismissively. “Why don’t you show me around my house?”
Soto didn’t like the term ‘my house,’ but he wisely chose to draw less attention to Luna. “Right this way. Chief Baker, anything to add?”
The Fire Chief had been mutely watching from the sidelines. “Firehouse 15 is yours.”
“We resume our patch at 1400?” Williams questioned.
“That is correct,” Baker assured him.
Erin controlled her expression because she wanted to glare at him for handing her team over to someone even more robotic.
“Then why don’t you take these three?” Williams indicated the three women. “They’ll be perfect for the photo op.”
Luna bristled the most, but she wasn’t going to argue more in front of the Chief.
The Chief didn’t jump on Williams’s suggestion. “We can’t fit them all into an official vehicle.”
“I assume they are capable of walking the couple blocks to the hospital. It will give me time to settle in without distractions.”
A furrow appeared between Luna’s eyebrows, and Erin didn’t blame her. Had he implied that the women were distracting? Or only Luna who had talked back to him?
Erin could see the Chief was not pleased with this development. He had to decide whether or not he was going to undermine Captain Williams in his first ten minutes of command. “We’ll walk. Knight, Rodriguez, Hudgens, come with me.”
The four blocks to Metro Gen were quiet.
As the group drew closer, the Chief started speaking, “We’re doing a photo op with the Department of Pediatrics. Our new paramedic battalion is partially funded and supported by the hospital.”
“We have enough paramedics to form a battalion?” Luna asked. Her need to know department initiatives was greater than her resentment of their new captain.
“You may not have known, but the power struggle between the hospital systems and the department a few years back emptied the city of paramedics. We inherited a few dozen firefighter-paramedics from the suburban stations, but offered them the option to retrain and join Rescue Alpha instead. It took two years to build capacity for three trucks running 24-hour shifts.”
“Who runs the battalion?” Luna asked.
“Assistant Chief Cordova, presently,” the Chief said.
“Let me get this straight, sir. We’ve had no paramedics for years because this new program made them unavailable,” Erin wanted clarification.
“Correct,” he confirmed.
“So, things were worse before they got better because of this program. And now we’re going to celebrate that?” Erin couldn’t help her smart mouth.
“Hudgens!” Vanessa hissed.
Baker raised his hand. “She is correct. Unlike Cleveland, Seattle has an extremely well-organized paramedic battalion. While it’s true the paramedics’ absence didn’t help, it didn’t make the situation much worse because it was already terrible.”
“But you’re changing it,” Vanessa noted.
“Yes. Done right, everything will change.” His eyes caught Erin’s for a second before he quickly looked away.
Back to the innuendo. She had the sudden urge to grab the Chief by his too neat uniform and kiss him. Even though she hated him right now, her body disagreed. Physically, she couldn’t remember the last time she wanted anyone this badly.
If he wanted changes, making out with him in front of her officers would certainly change things. She struggled to find something neutral to say. “Change is good.”
Baker didn’t acknowledge her. “This is the first of many photo-ops in the coming week. Hopefully after them, I can get back to running a fire department. I’ll do what has to be done. Smile and wave because PR says we should.”
Vanessa was onboard. “Sometimes, it’s just got to be done. And you kept it quiet all these months to make the maximum impact.”
“Exactly. Thank you for understanding, Knight.”
Chief Baker seemed to know his way around the hospital because he led them away from their usual ER entrance and up to the third floor. They entered the pediatric offices which were decorated with an extremely large number of friendly sled dogs.
“This isn’t the Dawg Pound,” Erin whispered to Luna, referencing Cleveland Browns fans.
“No, MetroGen went with more neutral. Balto, the sled dog that saved Nome Alaska, didn’t scream corporate sponsorship,” Luna whispered back.
The PR spokesperson from earlier, Hannah Fitzpatrick, was jumping for joy. “This is perfect. Diversity and women.”
Erin, Luna, and Vanessa exchanged an eye-roll.
The collection people for the photo op included a smattering of doctors, including three somewhat unwilling medical students in short white coats: a medium-sized Indian guy, a white girl with light brown hair, and an older African American man with short curls.
Fitzpatrick lined everybody up and put Erin next to the African American med student.
“We’re getting you a baby. Act natural when you pass the baby to him,” Fitzpatrick instructed them.
“I’m Erin,” she said. The guy had great cheekbones and a nice smile. He appeared a few years older than she was.
“Michael,” he said.
Fitzpatrick handed a baby to Erin. The baby happened to be Hispanic. Check off the diversity box. “You hold the baby. He should examine her. Act friendly and happy.”
The photographers started clicking, and Erin tried to appear friendly and happy.
Fortunately, Fitzpatrick was concentrating on Michael. “This is perfect. Just keep smiling. Pretend you’re an authority figure. Great.”
Soon enough, Erin gratefully gave the baby back to its mother. She turned around and bit back a laugh.
The Chief had a toddler attached to his leg while holding a cooing, jolly six-month-old. The poor mother was profusely apologizing because the toddler started chewing on the Chief’s leg.
“Don’t worry about it, ma’am,” he said. The baby stared at him with an awestruck expression. One chubby hand tried to grab his nose. He successfully ducked out of the way and redirected the fist to his ear instead. Baker caressed the baby’s face and puffed out his cheeks. The baby broke out into a huge grin, and the Chief smiled back, almost shining with contentment.
The cameras captured the moment for posterity too. He caught Erin watching him and briefly glanced down at the baby, who happened to be mixed race with dark ringlets. The planes of his face softened, and Erin swore she felt her ovaries start singing. If she and the Chief had little firefighter babies, would they look like that?
Then she had to kick herself mentally. She was not having baby-related Chief fantasies. Teenagers might do that, but grown-ass, independent women did not imagine making babies with their boss. Especially because said boss hardly gave her the time of day let alone wanted to be her baby-daddy.
Eventually, Fitzpatrick called for a group shot. Erin, being the diversity representative, was placed nowhere near the Chief and got to hold another Latino toddler. The doctors lucked out by posing with the transport bassinets.
The photo session finished, and the PR woman rushed off, reminding the Chief of the next item on his agenda.
Erin decided to use the bathroom before leaving which meant a walk down the hallway and around the corner into an out of the way section of the building. On her way out, she nearly crashed into the Chief.
Great. Exactly what she needed.
“Excuse me, sir,” she uttered formally.
“I need to apologize to you.”
Erin crossed her arms over her chest. “I should apologize for my tone earlier.”
He smiled placidly. “Your firehouse suffered the most in the past year, so your frustration is warranted.”
Damn it; he had to be so magnanimous. His blank, polite features made her want to squirm. “Then what are you apologizing for, sir? Selecting us for diversity and inclusiveness?”
“That was all Fitzpatrick and Williams seizing an opportunity, but I can’t fault them because they were right.” He began the next part with more care. “Before last shift… the gym. I had a physical response which was both inappropriate and unprofessional.”
“Oh, did you? I hadn’t noticed,” she lied. Not a good time to mention that it might have been the highlight of her week, especially since this shift was turning into a day with Angry Captain.
“Once again, my apologies for my physical response to your… therapy. I’m not a robot, and it can occur with close contact between personnel.”
His use of the word ‘robot’ had to be deliberate. Anonymous must not have been particularly anonymous depending on what her teammates had written.
Then she replayed his apology in her mind. He was taking full responsibility, reducing their mutual attraction to a basic physical response.
“Wait, are you blaming this on me?” Her eyes widened with the realization. “What happened between us—”
He cut her off. “It’s my ethical duty to you to make sure you understand that there is no ‘us.’ There’s never been an ‘us.’ There’s will never be an ‘us.’ And if, as your fire chief, anything I did that made you feel it was a possibility is solely on me.”
“It’s your fault because you’re my superior officer, and I have no agency of my own?” Couldn’t he have reprimanded her or something instead of telling her how unimportant all of this was to him?
He spoke evenly, “Battalion Chief McClunis and I are on the same page about the inclusion of female firefighters and treating them appropriately. I never want to take advantage of my position. I hope I never gave the impression otherwise in any of my words or actions, Hudgens.”
Erin was seething and decided to bite back. “You have not. I think I need to make myself clear. I’m my own woman who makes my own choices about what I do and don’t do. Those are not your responsibility. You are confused about my intentions. In the gym, in the light of our first encounter, I offered you some harmless, light, flirty banter.”
“Oh.” His tone made her feel extra stupid.
If he was committed to being so professional, she would one-up him. “Our encounter at the yoga studio was an innocent mistake. Perhaps it gave me the impression of intimacy, which led to me overstepping my bounds as your subordinate on past occasions, and I’m sorry.”
“Thank you, Hudgens.” His calm response made her want to knock him off-balance so badly it made her shoulders quake.
Now she was on a roll and couldn’t seem to stop herself. “I know it’s difficult for you to compute that someone as beautiful and as awesome as me doesn’t quite fit into your box of interchangeable fire department cogs that keep your new Cuyahoga Combined machine running smoothly.”
Baker’s eyes narrowed. “I see.”
She continued, “You don’t owe me an apology for the nothing that happened while we were both off the clock. What anyone does in their off time is not CCFD’s business. Isn’t that correct, sir?”
“Yes,” he admitted, rightly sensing a trap.
“And as long as it doesn’t compromise their team, their personal lives are their own. Suppose I go back to the guy I used to date from 19, I don’t need to apologize to anyone, right?” If the chief was letting her know he wasn’t interested, it was only fair to let him know that she wasn’t interested either.
Not a bit.
“We don’t really encourage relationships,” he started.
“Attractive horny people are going to do what they’re going to do.” The warning flags were all there, but Erin was going to barrel forward. “Anyone can hook up with anyone, provided it’s not within their own firehouse. Not that anyone would ever do that because it kills their opportunity to be captain.”
She arched an eyebrow and waited for a reaction. He stood there, unmoved and silent.
Erin took a steadying breath. “I should stop talking now. I am on duty right now, and you, my superior officer, unnecessarily apologized to me. So, I’m sorry, again.”
This time, she looked him directly in the eye, and he stared back, impassive.
For all her apologies, he must have guessed that she wasn’t sorry and would do it all again if she had the chance. With his evil Jedi Chief powers, she was certain he could read her thoughts and had no difficulty knowing how much she had downplayed the entire thing. He was too much of a gentleman and professional to call her out. What could he say anyway?
Stop lying and have sex with me now?
Stop pretending two almost-kisses didn’t happen?
Or maybe he was simply confused by her stream-of-consciousness babble.
“Thank you for your candor, Hudgens.” He turned around. Apparently, bathroom use was no longer a priority for him.
Erin sighed. She should be used to him rejecting her by now. It was time she swore off attractive, blue-eyed, ineligible, disinterested, fire chiefs.