Young Buck: A Slow Burn Small Town Romance (Green Valley Heroes Book 5)

Chapter 4

I’m gonna kill that little shit.

I stood in the shower, sopping wet, with a piss-poor excuse for a towel in my hand—and not the towel I’d thrown on the hook when I’d come in. The laundered white regulation towel I’d grabbed off the stack had been replaced. Instead, I held a terrycloth version of the one symbol I never wished to see again or think about: a bright yellow lightning bolt.

Since my first day on the job, the nickname “Sparky” had taken. It was the mildest of all the hazing I could expect. Most of what had happened had been anonymous, like this. I had no doubt that the trio—Huey Halliday, Jake Dewey, and Louis Black—who I’d begun to call Huey, Dewey, and Louie, were behind it. There was also no doubt that their ringleader—Louie, the blond—was at the helm.

“I’m gonna kill that little shit,” I said aloud this time as I tried to make the most out of what I had, which was just a scrap. No one had gone to the effort of finding a bolt-shaped towel. Some genius had procured a yellow towel, stenciled on the lightning, and cut it up.

For half a minute, I stood there dripping and catching a chill. I’d been raised better than to leave a trail of water across the floor. Once I’d drip-dried all that I was going to, I finally used the towel. And by “used” I mean mopped up not much considering what a cheap specimen it turned out to be. I then proceeded to wrap the scrap around my waist until the longest jag of the lightning bolt covered up my manly pride.

Peeking outside the curtain, I half expected to hear snickering coming from around the corner. The corridor was quiet as I emerged from my stall. Unsurprisingly, the towel rack at the entry door to the showers was completely empty. Not wanting to make an even bigger fool of myself by trying to pull my clothes on damp, I made my way toward the only sensible solution: the dryer next to the sinks.

It wasn’t one of those modern kinds that wanted you to dip your hands inside. The locker room dryer was old-fashioned—the kind with a nozzle that you could turn and point. I directed it upward, doing what I could to dry off my arms and chest. When it shut off, I pressed the button again with plans to turn around and have it do my back.

“Man, he got you good.”

I turned around to find a smiling Dan, the other new recruit. Use of the word “he” confirmed what I already knew. This hadn’t been the collective handiwork of the entire crew hazing the new lieutenant. Louie was the mastermind.

“He’s got me for now,” I conceded, trying to sound good-natured. “Something y’all don’t know about me yet is that I play the long game.”

Dan raised an approving eyebrow. “A strategist. I like that.”

Giving up on my dryer scheme, I started toward my locker, figuring it was time to get dressed. I needed to debrief our team-building offsite with Captain Grizz Grady, who was next up in my chain of command. He would be an important mentor. I’d given myself a pep talk beforehand, about finding ways to bond with the more difficult guys. It was turning out to be harder than I thought.

“How’s it going for you? They treating you alright?” I asked Dan as I reached my locker. He set his duffel on the bench.

“I found a cane in my locker yesterday and some of those tablets you use to clean dentures next to my coffee mug.”

I cringed at his confession.

“You let me know if it ever gets to you.” Ageism was a reportable offense.

Dan chuckled and unzipped his duffel. “Naw, I’ve got a sense of humor. And it’s better than them not ribbing me at all. No one bringing up the elephant in the room...now that’ll kill you. I’m a probie and I’m old enough to be some of these guys’ dad.”

I didn’t point out that he was also ex-military. It wasn’t common for civilians to join the fire service at Dan’s age, but being a former army medic made him a great hire.

“Look, man. I understand it,” Dan continued. “Testing people you have to rely on as a matter of life and death makes sense.”

But I didn’t want to legitimize hazing. “Age ain’t nothin’ but a number.”

He began pulling neatly folded clothes out of his bag. “I tend to agree. But people get caught up on shit like that. Trust me, I’ve heard it all. I started going gray when I was twenty-five.”

Dan had a self-deprecating humor that was hard not to like. He seemed humble, yet authoritative—composed in a way I’d never been.

“You can color over your gray,” I half lamented. “But there’s not much I can do about my face. They filled a shelf in the fridge with baby bottles full of milk and labeled them with my name.”

Dan laughed openly now. “Man, they’ve been giving you the business. Remind me to sync my schedule with yours.”

Ten minutes later,Grizz motioned for me to close his office door behind myself. His was next to the chief’s. Both offices were spacious with wide desks, but the chief’s was larger, with a conference table and a private bedroom. Its walls were hung with plaques and awards that were an honor to the house. Grizz’s office was smaller, with a sofa and a fridge, and walls that were a tribute to fallen friends.

“Well, that could’ve gone better.”

Grizz vocalized our shared conclusion the moment I sank into his guest chair. He sat behind his desk, reclined. Deciphering people wasn’t my strong suit, and I liked that he was a straight shooter.

“It couldn’t have gone better for Louie,” I replied grimly. “That thing he pulled...”

The drill had turned into a farce. We’d gone to practice skills at a training facility near Knoxville, to get us all working as a team. It wasn’t just Dan and me who were new to Green Valley. Bickford and another guy named Slade were out.

“That thing he pulled was goddamned irresponsible,” Grizz finished. “One of the cockiest moves I’ve ever seen.”

During a simulated rescue, Louie had ignored orders to search a specific area, then found the victims exactly where he wasn’t supposed to be. He’d gotten them to safety through an area that was littered with hazards. He’d burst out the door seconds before the drill ended with two adult-weight dummy victims, one over each shoulder. The guys had applauded—everyone except me and Grizz.

“He ignored rule number one,” I said testily.

“Chain of command,” Grizz agreed.

“Not following orders is the fastest way to get people killed. When you’re in the field, you don’t know what the incident commander knows.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, brother.” Grizz sat upright and swiveled to open a fridge underneath his desk. He had a serious addiction to La Croix.

“Cherry blossom or pamplemousse?” he asked, completely serious.

“Cherry blossom.” I was too preoccupied to care.

“You talk to him yet?” he asked a second after he launched a pink can toward me.

I decided not to tell Grizz about the towel incident or how I believed Louie had made certain to be off the premises before I was dressed.

“He’ll get it from me tomorrow. I’ll have him cleaning toilets for a month.”

“It ain’t that simple.” Grizz popped the tab on his pamplemousse. “The guy you’re replacing—Bickford—he wouldn’t have given Louie a punishment for what he did. He’d have given the guy an award.”

In the week since I’d arrived, Bickford was practically all I’d heard about from Louie. He’d taken to explaining “how we do things around here.” Not only did I not need a lesson on how to wash a truck, his condescension picked at all my scabs. Being treated like a novice was an indignity I’d suffered too often.

“Louie failed the drill,” I pointed out. “He failed to follow orders, then failed to answer his radio to account for himself when called.”

“He also saved the victims.” Grizz threw me a meaningful look. “And bolstering his massive ego is his record in the field. He’s never lost a victim in a fire.”

Grizz took a long swallow of his fizzy water. Mine sat, unopened, in my hand. It seemed that on top of a hero fantasy, Louie had a God complex.

“Look. I ain’t saying you’re wrong,” he commiserated. “I’m saying, be careful before you swing that hammer. Everything he learned about being a cocky little shit, he learned from Bickford. You want him to do things your way, you’ve got to earn his respect.”

I finally pulled the tab on my drink, wishing for something stronger.

“I know I gotta earn my reputation...but is it too much to want a little respect for my position?”

Being so young meant I’d had to work twice as hard to make lieutenant. I’d paid my dues so I could call some shots. I wanted to bring in my own thinking—my own brand of leadership and problem-solving. Louie hadn’t let me do my job.

“Being in charge ain’t always what it’s cracked up to be.” Grizz raised his bottle in a toast before taking another gulp. “Welcome to management.”

The chief chose that moment to knock on the door. Grizz waved him in and I sat a little straighter in my chair. Grizz reached back into his refrigerator and pulled out a Coke Classic in a glass bottle that he opened before sliding it across his desk to the chief. The latter—dressed in plain clothes—settled down in Grizz’s second chair.

“How’d it go?” The chief looked between the two of us.

“Louie went rogue,” Grizz reported, then told the tale.

The story made the chief seem every bit as grumpy as he’d been on my first day.

“He seems broken up about Bickford.” I mentioned the thing I’d been wanting to bring up.

“Sorry to hit you with that.” The chief looked repentant. “Grizz is a captain, but I’m grooming him for chief. I need lieutenants who can fill Grizz’s shoes when he moves up. Bickford wasn’t it.”

“If you think Louie’s not a team player...” Grizz gave a shake of his head. “Bickford’s a straight-up renegade. Now that guy made some bad calls.”

“So why does Louie put him on a pedestal?” I asked the obvious question.

Grizz answered, “Bickford got in his head. Took him under his wing. Made him feel powerful. He was only here for a year, but a year was long enough.”

The chief turned toward me then. “I’ll work ’til I’m dead sooner than I’ll leave this department on bad footing.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, sir, when do you plan to retire?”

“It won’t be tomorrow,” he was quick to say. “Maybe a year or two. But I’m thinking about my succession plan—stacking my ranks with the best firefighters in Tennessee. A need for a top-notch lieutenant is why we hired you. That, plus you said you wanted to stay in a town like Green Valley, long-term.”

“Yes, sir. That’s still true.”

I thought of everything I hadn’t liked about my old department. The firehouse back in Crosby had been ten kinds of run-down—pea-green Marmoleum floors and walls yellowed with time made it feel dingy. Bad drainage made the plumbing back up and the rooms were cramped. The only thing they ever kept in good repair was the trucks.

Green Valley Fire Department, by contrast, was well-funded and well-led. It rose to the stature of the town. The groomed flower beds out front, and pristine flags that always seemed to fly high, proved that someone took pride in the space. And it wasn’t just the firehouse. Green Valley would offer a quiet life in a nice town—exactly what I wanted after the way I grew up.

“You got a girl around here?” Grizz asked with suggestion in his voice.

I chuckled. “Not yet.”

“A guy? A nonbinary person?” Grizz prodded and the chief rolled his eyes.

“How are you finding Green Valley?” the chief asked instead.

“Everyone I know from here is good people,” I said earnestly. “I like the idea of making my home a place where I can do the job for thirty years.”

“Then let me give you a word of advice,” the chief said in a fatherly tone. “Figure out how to deal with Louie. He’s a little shit, but he’s got skills. More than that, he’s got friends who will follow his lead. And if you don’t earn the respect of him and the other guys, it’s gonna be a long watch.”