Chapter 7
Quinn
Pulling up to station 803, I place my car in park, unlock my seatbelt, and grip my steering wheel with both hands. Lord, please let this go well.
Grabbing my briefcase and a bag of takeout I picked up on my way here, I head for the door. I’ve known Layton Michaels for some time. He’s not only a devoted firefighter who’s currently the Lieutenant of this department, but he’s a pillar of the Magnolia Point community. Heck, beyond all of that, he’s simply a nice guy. Let’s hope all of that works in my favor as I pitch what I have planned.
As I walk through the station door, I see Layton and John sitting in the great room. “Hey, guys. I hope you’re hungry. I brought lunch,” I say, waving the takeout bag from Riverside Café.
“Quinn! Good to see ya. You didn’t have to—” Layton stops in his tracks. Did I overshoot with this?
“Are those meatball subs in there?”
“Yes,” I answer tentatively.
“Well, now I know I’m in trouble. Whatever you have in mind must be big if you had to bring those to butter me up.”
Damn, he’s on to me.
Ignoring his statement, I push on. “I wasn’t sure how many of you were working. There are five of them.”
Layton opens the bag and practically starts to drool. His girlfriend Daphne had shared Layton’s love of the sandwich over cocktails at the Diddled Fiddle not long ago. Apparently, he goes to the Riverside Café each Tuesday when they’re on special.
“Yeah, it’s just me and John manning the engine today. But Monty and Frank are in the ambulance, headed to the ER with a patient. Want to talk in the office?”
“Sure.”
“John, help yourself to a sub, old man. I have some business with Quinn. Radio Monty and Frank that lunch is here when they get back.” He takes two steps in my direction before coming to an abrupt halt. “Quinn, have you eaten? Is one of these for you?” he asks with an expression that screams please say no.
“Oh, no. I already ate.”
“John, leave that last sub for the new guy. He should be here in a few.”
“Got it, boss.”
Layton extends a hand toward the office, and we both head inside. Once seated, I pull out my notebook and take a calming breath as he unwraps his meatball sub. He looks practically giddy.
“So, as I mentioned on the phone, I’ve been hired to boost tourism in Magnolia Point. I have a few ideas about how to bring more people to the area in the winter months, but this will require the entire community coming together to make this happen.”
Layton appears to be listening, nodding between bites, tomato sauce dotting the corners of his mouth.
“I’ve also been tasked to try and find a way to boost the reputation of the Magnolia Point fire department.”
This gets his attention, as he freezes with his sandwich halfway to his mouth. “Come again?”
“Layton, it can’t be lost on you that donations are down since… well… since the incidents that don’t bear repeating.” His face falls, but he doesn’t correct me. “What’s more, my father states that recruitment is, for lack of a better word, bad.”
He stops eating entirely and wipes his face and hands on a napkin. “I’m working on it. It’s been a particularly tough time for us lately. First, Mary hung up her boots to focus on starting a family. Then, before we could replace her, Pete had to go out on extended medical leave for his back.”
Lowering my tone so he knows I’m not the enemy, I add, “I get it, Layton. No one’s blaming you. I swear. I’m only here to help.”
“Hell, Quinn. With so many tech and online jobs now, staffing for fire stations is down across the country. But I admit, having some positive exposure certainly couldn’t hurt.”
“Good. So, I have plans to do some community outreach events that will benefit both your station as well as the local animal shelter. I’m organizing a large event for December 5 th , for Bathtub Party Day.”
Layton nearly chokes on his last bite, and in a rush, I fly around the desk to pat him aggressively on the back. “What the fuck, Quinn?”
I step back, alarmed. “What?”
“Bathtub Party Day. Is that really a thing?”
“Yes,” I snap, crossing my arms in indignation. Okay, so I didn’t know it was a thing either until I stumbled on it. But it’s perfect. “It’ll be just the thing we need to get attention. We can use the event to include some kitschy items like receiving a bath bomb with purchase to the event, spa giveaways, and that kind of thing. But one of the headline activities will be dropping thousands of rubber ducks into May River to see which ones cross the finish line first. People will adopt a duck with all the proceeds being split between the fire department and the shelter.”
Layton leans back in his chair. “You know, that’s not a bad idea. Let’s hope it stays warm. But so long as I don’t have to swim in it, I guess some little rubber duckies can handle it.”
Clasping my hands together in excitement, I reach for my pen to take some notes.
“What are the other headline activities?”
The blood abruptly drains from my face. “Well, the animals up for adoption will be one highlight. I’m hoping I can count on your team to be there to greet people with the dogs and cats.”
“Of course. You know we’ll do anything we can to help you.”
And there’s my in…
“And it’d be a great time to sell firefighter calendars. People could get pictures and autographs with the monthly firefighter models—”
“I’m sorry, what?” His face morphs from encouraging to expressionless.
“Oh, come on, Layton. Please. I’ve done some research. This is a very popular tool to drive revenue to fire departments who have done it in the past. If the photographer donates his time, and I can get the print shop to give us a discount, that’s a wide margin of profit that will go a long way toward getting you the supplies you need.”
Rubbing his palm down his face, he lets out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know, Quinn.”
“Layton, it can’t be any more embarrassing than shaking your groove thing at the Diddled Fiddle for the World Beard Day competition every year.”
His eyes hold mine, and I think I have him. Ultimately, his heart is with this fire department. He knows as well as I do this could bring some much-needed light-heartedness and hopefully positive attention and funds to a station that sorely needs it.
Deciding to use this opportunity to run with my plans, I switch to planning mode. “You have three twenty-four-hour shifts here, right? A, B, and C?”
“Yes.” Gah, he sounds so defeated.
“How many guys are on each shift? Four?”
He gathers the wrapper and napkin lying on the desk and throws it in the trash. “There are usually three of us on duty, plus two who rotate on the ambulance. We’ve been short on a few shifts, so I’ve been trying to pick up the slack whenever I can until we get some new hires.”
“Wow, Layton. That’s a lot. Do you ever get any time off?”
“Yeah, whenever B shift is here. They’re fully staffed. Plus, it’s Magnolia Point, not Miami. We don’t tend to get that many calls. It’s not ideal, but… we’re working on it.”
The last thing I want to do is make him feel worse by coming here. None of this is his fault. “Okay, so who’ve we got? It’s you and John.”
Layton’s face breaks out into a chuckle. “John, the self-described ogre. He’s not a looker. But he sure can cook up a mean pot of gumbo.”
Okay, Layton’s hot. He’s won the World Beard Day competition like five years running. But we might have to be creative with a few of the other guys. “Maybe we can do his shoot in his helmet and a chef’s apron.”
Layton runs his fingertips over his impressive beard and grins. “You know, that’s not a bad idea.”
“Who else?”
“On B shift, there’s Baxter, Nelson, and Tripp. I’m planning to move Baxter to A shift to prevent anyone else from dealing with him.” I know Baxter. This guy’s a legend in his own mind. He’s a middle-aged divorcee who thinks he looks like Henry Cavill when, in fact, he’s closer to Homer Simpson. Might have to get the photographer to work his magic with that one.
Nelson isn’t bad as far as dad bod’s go. And Tripp’s in phenomenal shape. He might need to trim the facial hair so he looks more hero than homeless, but he’ll work out nicely.
“There’s Monty and Frank manning the ambulance. They’re the only guys employed with us at the moment. B and C shifts have paramedics from a local volunteer agency.”
“Got it.” Monty and Frank aren’t bad looking guys. Frank resembles a lumberjack. Who wouldn’t want to see a calendar photo with him in there? And Monty… well, there’s just something about a hot, fit firefighter in glasses.
“That leaves C shift. Douglas and Conrad.”
Tapping my pen against my lower lip, I try to picture each of them. Douglas is a sexy silver fox. That will work just fine. And if I remember correctly, Conrad’s not bad. His physique isn’t going to bring all the ladies to the yard. However, his dimples might.
I drag my nail down each name. “That’s only nine.”
Layton lets out a heavy exhale. “Yeah. Welcome to my world. Mary’s currently in her second trimester. And Pete’s still recovering. I think he might even be wearing a back brace.” He winces.
“You think they’d be willing to take pictures for us? It’d be great to have a woman included. And we could surround Pete with pups.” I giggle.
“I don’t see why not. They’ve both been a part of this station for a long time. It’s not like they left on bad terms.”
Clasping my hands in front of me as if in prayer, I beam at Layton. “This just might work. We only need to find one more for the last month, and we’re set.”
“Yeah, not sure about how we do that. It’s not like I’m going to ask the Battalion Chief to pose.” He shakes his head with a look of sheer embarrassment at the thought.
“Gosh. I hate to get this close and come up short for December.”
Knock, knock.
“Door’s open,” Layton belts out.
Looking down at my watch, I realize I’ve been here far longer than I planned. I gather my things and stand. Yet, as I turn for the door, I stop in my tracks, hit with the same instant heat from the other night at Magnolia Market. An electric current jolts in my direction, causing my pulse to pound in my ears.
“Ah, Jason. Come on in. Have you met Quinn Patterson?”
Oh. My. God. It is him.