Chapter 16

The new management had a sense of humor, Captain James Haskell observed as he signed into the conference at the Las Vegas Venetian.

Take this, Firefighter Worldwide Conference. At room check-in, Cleveland Fire attendees received a goodie bag from the Fire Chief. The bag contained a request for one write up of a lecture they attended and a string of condoms with a note:

Do not increase our health premiums by getting the clap. Do not decrease your pension by getting a divorce.

The Department had had a rough time recently. The state had merged the Cleveland and Cuyahoga County departments into one last. The closure of twenty firehouses for ‘redundancies’ in the county had sown plenty of bad blood, and then a high-profile Memorial Day incident led to Chief Pegg's forced retirement.

Rather than promoting an assistant chief, they appointed a dark horse candidate, Noah Baker, who promised to turn everything around. He had been the Battalion Chief of 5 and was thirty-six, two years younger than James. Not only was he young, he’d only been a bat chief for two years and jumped the ranks of section, division, and assistant chief in one bound.

In his first official act, Baker fired Battalion Chief John Conley for incompetence and promoted Dennis Judge from the suburbs in his place.

This morning, Chief Baker was grumpy. “Whose brilliant idea was it hold this conference in Vegas during Labor Day weekend? They serve beer, Red Bull, and water in the back.”

“What idiot paid for our officers to attend?” the redheaded chief, Leslie McClunis, answered. The Cleveland delegation of chiefs, identifiable in their white shirts, had a table near check-in and were taking attendance by their ‘Cleveland only’ coffee and bagel station.

James hid his smile behind a cup of black java. Bruce Hall, his lieutenant from 5, had opted to share a room with another lieutenant Jared, instead of James. It gave James two goodie bags, and James had decided to do a second write up in case the lieutenants partied too hard. Despite being a captain for six years, this was his first conference.

It actually because of Chief Baker. His email three weeks ago stated any officer who hadn’t attended a past conference would be given a room at the Venetian with their conference and airfare covered up to 350 dollars. The only price was a write up of one lecture they attended to be delivered directly to a chief.

The only problem with this popular plan was the Cleveland chiefs needed to herd their 150 officers into continuing education classes rather than letting them enjoy a holiday boondoggle. He suspected that was why the chiefs were here. Their presence, ideally, would deter public drunkenness.

Pity the other departments hadn't put in the same effort.

“It’s the Devil’s playground. Where is Cunningham? He hasn’t shown up,” said the eldest chief in the group, Alan Hastings, as he scanned the crowd. It was difficult to find anyone since there were 6,000 attendees and almost everyone wore navy blue t-shirts and leather boots. Firefighters were big on uniforms, code of conducts, staying up for 24-hour shifts, and day drinking.

The day drinking aspect was going strong. Lots of the attendees he saw stagger by gave off the vibe of too much hair off the dog that had bitten them. Security was going to have a great time with this. The combination of booze, testosterone, and relative lack of women would make tempers short. It wouldn't take much to escalate minor scuffles.

McClunis flipped through a packet. “His lecture starts in ten minutes.”

“Where is he?” Hastings asked again.

Further down the hall, two men started shouting at each other about who tried to enter the ballroom first.

McClunis narrated her text. “’Where the fuck are you, asshole?’”

James was glad he was hiding behind the coffee cart. Especially since security hotfooted it to the sound of the fight.

“Who can cover his spot?” Baker asked. “I’m manning the table for two more hours and then going to five lectures.”

“I have High-rise Standard Operating Procedures Updates, Diversifying the Firehouse, Expanding the Role of Paramedics, and Recruiting and Retaining Women back-to-back,” McClunis said.

Hastings wasn't in a better position. “I'm doing six hours of Budgeting, Operations, and Equipment Procurement.”

“Sound fascinating,” McClunis said, and her phone pinged. “It’s Cunningham. ‘I’m going to be an hour late. I forgot which leg to put the condom on and woke up in bed with a hooker. Don’t tell my wife.’”

“Leslie,” Baker warned.

“It’s your second month. If he screws this up for you, I’m gonna castrate him.”

“She has a point. The other chiefs are already at their lectures. Not drunk. I hope they aren't from Cleveland.” Baker jerked his head toward the sound of security separating the fighters.

“Nope, guys from Seattle and LA fighting over a red-shirt rookie from Seattle. It's neither of the two women from my battalion,” McClunis confirmed after checking the hallway.

“Yes, your women are wonderful. Can either of them attend the FEMA lecture?” Baker asked.

Hastings shook his head. “I already reassigned them other lectures. We’ve had more absences than I anticipated.”

“I can go,” Baker sounded reluctant.

“No, you can’t. You show your pretty blue eyes to our new members from the suburbs and build some goodwill,” McClunis disagreed. “I’ll skip the High-rise lecture.”

“That is unnecessary.” James stepped out from behind the towering coffee carafe. “Your battalion is high-rise. I'll cover the FEMA lecture.”

The Chief stiffened, and McClunis practically imposed herself in front of him. She read his navy shirt with its yellow letters, identifying him as a captain in Cleveland FD. “Sober?”

“It’s coffee, not beer. I don’t drink much.” James saluted her with his disposable cup.

“Yes, I know.” Chief Baker gave him a measured glance, undoubtedly thinking of the last big scene they’d shared when Baker was Bat Chief of 5. “We wouldn't want to impose.”

“Chief McClunis can lend me her notes,” James offered.

“Deal,” she said. “Though my notes might be longer than the lecture.”

“I look forward to reading them,” James said.

“You're up then,” Baker said. “Forms?”

Hastings handed James an extremely detailed pre-print of the intended lecture. This was much more than the PowerPoint. The pre-print named the lecturer, listed their background, and generated five questions to be answered by the end of the lecture. James was impressed with the unprecedented detail if they did this for every lecture and assigned chief to each one.

Fast work in the few weeks they’d had to plan.

“You have five minutes. Thank you, Captain Haskell,” Baker said.

Taking that for the dismissal it was, James balanced his bagel and coffee on his newly acquired pre-print and headed down to the wide hallway to the appropriate ballroom.

James sent a group text to his cadre of lieutenants. He’d mentored four guys who had been promoted in the last two years. They’d agreed to meet up at lectures together, though based on their texts from last night, they might not be up for an 8am lecture.

As with every conference ever, the lecturer got on the podium and started his PowerPoint. James knew the lecturer, Jacen Williams, who had been captain of Firehouse 33. They’d seen each other on occasion, though they were in different battalions.

Perhaps ‘knew’ was too strong a word. During Williams’ tenure at 33, James had found the man to be dour and intensely protocol driven. Frankly, intense was too mild of a word to encompass the man’s unfriendly and angry continence.

According to the rumor mill, Williams had once been the life of the party until the death of his wife led to a distinct personality change. It was odd three years later to see how little Williams had changed and how different James had become. Some days, James didn’t recognize himself, but he hoped he wasn’t nearly as unfriendly as Williams had become.

Still, the man absolutely commanded his information. He went through the organizational framework of FEMA, the steps in disaster assessment, and basics of local coordination. It was very detailed, and James took notes with a focus on expanding the five assigned questions.

To guarantee he took no chances, he snapped photos of his work at the end and emailed it to himself. While the chances he would be out drinking were zero, James didn’t want to take a risk. The Chief appreciated this type of meticulous work and might reward it.

These past two years had been disappointing personally and professionally. It would be more than prudent to take this opportunity to score points with the new boss. While it wouldn’t solve his lack of success in the romance sphere, it was something.

Especially since James’s last major contact with Baker had been back when James was dead.

Vegas is full of temptation, but nothing is more sinful than finding yourself married to your next-door neighbor . . .

The love and the heat continues with Captain James Haskell and his neighbor Caroline in Burn Card Book 3 of MetroGen After Hours setting your screen on fire on 8/31/2021. Available wide!

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