Chapter 1
“Fresh meat,” Eric read the sign with a chuckle as he pulled his light blue uniform shirt on over his white tee shirt. “I guess you must be Greg.”
The man nodded frantically as Eric looked over the boys’ recent work. They had Greg strapped to a long board in nothing but his boxers. Greg’s mouth was taped shut with a piece of two inch white medical tape. Someone, probably Johnson, drew a big happy face on the man’s stomach. To top it off they leaned Greg against the chain link fence with the sign tapped across his h*ps for the entire world to see.
Eric put his bag down on the sidewalk and worked on tidying his uniform. “The name’s Eric. I’m really sorry about this, Greg. I meant to get here sooner, but I got a little held up.”
Greg tried to shrug against his restraints.
“I gotta tell you that I’m a little embarrassed to work with these guys.” He gestured to Greg’s predicament. Greg nodded slightly. “So juvenile.” He shook his head in disgust and bent down in front of Greg. Greg tried to look down to see what Eric was doing, probably hoping that he was getting a pair of scissors to cut him down.
Eric stood up with an aerosol can in his hand, absently shaking it. “I tell the boys if they’re going to do something, do it right the first time. We take a lot of pride in our work around here, but this,” he gestured lazily towards Greg, “has amateur written all over it. I’m sorry, Greg, but I have a reputation to protect.” With that Eric sprayed green spray-paint on Greg’s brown hair.
After a few minutes Eric stepped back to examine his work. “Hmm, better, but not quite what I’m looking for.” He shook his head and bent down to retrieve something else from the bag. This time he stood up holding a red marker.
Greg watched as the marker came closer to his face until his eyes crossed. He felt the pen press against the tape covering his lips. He looked up to see Eric smile. “There, that’s much better.” He stepped back to examine his work. The green hair and full pouty red lips worked for him.
He picked up his bag and gave Greg a smile. “Welcome to the 707, Greg. I’m your training officer tonight. I’ll see you inside.” Eric walked away while Greg tried to scream against the tape.
Eric walked into the fire house. “What’s up, Eric?” a man asked.
“Not much.” He made his way upstairs to find the rest of the men watching the game.
“Eric!” they shouted in unison.
“Gentlemen, I see you greeted my third rider," a new EMT who rode along on a shift to train, "Very disappointing work, gentlemen, very disappointing,” he said, shaking his head in disgust.
Ethan ran a hand over his bald head as he said, “Come on, man, we had to rush it. The game was coming on.”
Eric looked at the large television. The Yankees were playing Boston at Fenway. “Sorry, my apologies.” He held up his hands and made his way back to the sleeping quarters. He walked to the last room on the right and threw his bag on the bed to the left. The one to the right was empty, letting him know his partner wasn't here yet. He would make the bed later. That is if it was a slow night otherwise he would be working all night on rig and wouldn't have a chance to grab some sleep.
He wasn’t supposed to be working tonight, but the lieutenant called him at home a few hours ago and asked if he could come in and train a third rider. Eric jumped at the chance since his social life had been shit for months and he could always use the money.
“Eric, you have a call!” one of the men yelled.
Eric walked back out into the living room of the three level fire house and passed the guys now watching him instead of the game. Jeff held his hand over the phone. “A woman, damn she sounds sexy as hell!” He handed the phone over to Eric.
“Hello?” he said, having no clue as to who would be calling him at work.
“Hi, sweetie!”
Eric sighed, looking back at the men, not really all that surprised to see them laughing. He promptly gave them a one finger salute, eliciting more laughter. His love life was a joke to them. They couldn’t understand how any man could go months without a girlfriend or at the very least get laid.
“Hey, mom, what’s going on?” he asked.
“I’m just making sure that you’re coming tomorrow night for dinner. Your brother will be here with his new girlfriend.”
“That’s great, mom,” he said, not really caring at all. This was his mother’s way of bringing up a possible match for him. According to his mother it didn’t matter that he was a thirty year old man, she had a responsibility to make sure he was happy and of course to her that meant finding a wife.
“I wanted to tell you about this lovely girl I met at the grocery store yesterday.”
“Oh, Mom, you didn’t,” he said, feeling a headache coming on.
She ignored him and continued. “She’s pretty, single, young and did I mention head cashier?”
“Mom, call her up and cancel. I’m not interested.”
“I don’t see why I should. I offered the poor girl a homemade meal and I intend to keep that promise. Now, since you’ll be here you can help keep her company.”
“Mom, I might not be able to come tomorrow night. I might have to pick up another shift.” Even as he said it he knew his mother already dismissed the idea and expected him there.
She sighed into the phone. “I'll expect you by six. Oh, and make sure you tell Joe to come, too.”
“Bye, Mom.” He hung up, wondering how the hell he was going to get out of going.
“So, who was she trying to hook you up with this time?” Jeff asked.
“A cashier,” he muttered, ignoring their laughter. "Anyone seen Teddy?" he asked, wondering where his partner for the night was. If he wasn't so damned bored he would never have taken this shift.
Working as an EMT was probably the best job he'd ever had. It was great. The hours were good, better than good, the pay was incredible and every day was new and exciting. The only thing that could really make or break your day besides a really f**ked up call was your partner.
Eight to twenty-four hours shifts working with someone in what really came down to a box on wheels could either be a hell of a good time or have you coming to blows. Imagine being stuck in a small box with someone who didn't bathe or worse wore what seemed like a gallon of cheap perfume or cologne. He'd found himself standing out in the rain, blizzard, or sweltering heat many times in order to get away from the stench. Worse was being partnered with some annoying ass**le or an outright bitch that you couldn't stand.