Chapter Thirteen
Angel was familiar with the expression, ‘there’s a spring in your step,’ but had never truly understood it until now.
It felt as though she was gliding on air, floating above the world like a fluffy white cloud, peering down at all her worries and stresses and troubles and waving, Goodbye!
I never want to see any of you ever again.
Since she had woken up this morning, the remnants of the bonfire and what happened before it was still fresh and new in her mind.
Angel couldn’t help but sway her hips as she walked, and she couldn’t help but bop her head up and down to the radio on her way to work.
And she most definitely couldn’t help but smile every time Samantha’s face popped into her head like a lovely reminder.
Who knew a bonfire could be so special and intimate? Who knew the little firecracker she had saved from her own careless doing could be so interesting? Who knew Samantha could make Angel think deeply about things and could make her feel hot and cold and everything in between?
By the time the two other couples had left the beach and the fire had withered to a few burning embers, Angel and Samantha had been deep in a conversation about dreams. They both had vividly imaginative dreams that stayed with them way after they had woken up.
Of course, Angel hadn’t mentioned the same recurring dream over the last year or so, but had been entirely fascinated by Samantha’s mind, hanging onto every word as she described her latest dream of the night before: riding giant orcas swimming across a dark ocean in search of an orb that brought the dead back to life.
~~
Frankie emerged from the kitchen doorway and made his way toward her. The closer he got, the deeper the frown on his forehead became. “You look different today, Angel. Did you do something different with your hair?”
Instinctively, she reached for her hair, which was fastened back in a low-lying bun, and shook her head. “Nope.”
He scrunched his nose and looked her up and down as if studying Angel like a portrait in a gallery. “Did you lose weight, then?”
“Don’t think so.”
“Did you get Botox? Or whatever you woman call it when you inject that poison into your skin to make you look younger?”
“Nope,” Angel said proudly. She attributed her smooth, almost wrinkle-free skin to her genetics—a gift passed down from her mother, who had received the same blessing from her own mother.
Frankie regarded her for a second longer and then gave up. “Well, whatever it is, you might want to give Mitchell some. He’s looking awful today. Something about the last tequila shot that broke the camel’s back.”
“Was it Mike’s bachelor party last night?” asked Angel. She had a vague memory of Mitchell informing the entire squad of his brother’s upcoming nuptials and his promise to throw a party that would rival the movie, ‘The Hangover’. Clearly, he succeeded.
“Yip. Apparently, it was raucous. Mike ended up in the emergency room last night with a drip in his arm.”
It was to be expected. Mike was Mitchell’s twin brother and one always tried to outdo the other. If one drank five shots of tequila, the other would surely double the dose and land himself in the ER.
“Angel,” called a voice suddenly from the stairwell.
Spinning around—Angel felt like a ballerina doing a pirouette—she saw Catherine stepping onto the second-floor landing. “What’s up?”
Catherine took a deep breath in and exhaled loudly. “Bruce wants to see you in his office. He’s waiting and asked me to call you.”
Angel’s heart suddenly sank into her stomach. The feeling was considerably uncomfortable, especially after the lovely warmth that had sat so happily in there a moment ago. “His office? He never calls anyone into his office.”
“I know,” said Catherine grimly. The corners of her lips curved down, and her brows furrowed as if she was expecting the worst. Like a diagnosis of the utmost severity.
“It can’t be good, can it? The last time he called someone into his office, they ended up getting transferred to some godforsaken place on the other side of the country. ”
It was just some station gossip, a story that circulated a few years ago lacking any factual basis, but still, it was enough to rattle Angel’s nerves.
Frankie snapped his fingers together. “Uh-oh, Angel is in trouble. Guess we have to change your name to something else now.”
With a scowl sent his way, Angel took a deep breath in. She hoped it would halt the sudden bile creeping up her throat. She nervously walked past Catherine to the stairwell.
Everything about Bruce was blunt and straightforward. He was a no-frills or fuss kind of guy with a ‘let’s get it done or die’ kind of attitude. If he was summoning Angel into his office, he had to have his reasons for it, and they couldn’t be good.
“I promise you’ll be my best friend forever,” called Catherine after her. “Even if you land somewhere awful.”
Bruce’s office was small but tidy. Shelves were lined with binders and the desk that was pushed up against the wall held neat stacks of paperwork.
On two of the walls were framed commendations and photos of past firefighting teams. Among them was a snapshot from 2012 and if Angel squinted in its direction, she could spot her younger, fresh-faced, slightly clueless self.
A faint smell of coffee lingered in the air. Angel’s stomach grumbled. Her breakfast of yogurt and berries was sitting in a container in the bag she had slung over her shoulder. To be summoned before breakfast should be one of the seven deadly sins.
Bruce was sitting behind his desk. He had short silver hair that stood starkly out against his dark skin and a face full of serious lines.
The last time Angel had seen him smile was four years ago on his birthday when everyone had sung him a new-age rendition of happy birthday ending with a ‘Let’s party like it’s 1964! ’
He cleared his throat and leaned forward, steepling his fingers on the desk. “Angel, please take a seat.”
She did as she was told. It felt like being in the principal’s office, waiting for him to call her mother in about yet another skirt-length violation.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“I need to address a matter of protocol with you,” Bruce responded evenly.
“Protocol?” she asked, not sure what he was talking about since Angel always did everything by the book. For her, rules were easier to follow than to break.
“It has come to my attention that there may be a breach in department policy regarding a specific personal relationship with an individual you’ve assisted during an emergency call—”
“A breach?” interrupted Angel, who wasn’t aware of any such policy.
Bruce cleared his throat, his tone firm and unyielding. “We’ve got a duty to the community, Angel. And while we’re all for community engagement, there’s a line we can’t cross.”
“A line? What line?” asked Angel, who was too stunned to figure out what he was talking about. Never in a million years did she ever expect to engage in a conversation like this with her boss. Was he being serious? Was Bruce really scolding her for having a personal life?
He leaned forward, his expression as serious as a judge delivering a verdict. “The one that separates professionalism from personal. Do you need me to spell it out for you?
“Yes. Draw a diagram while you’re at it,” she retorted, and immediately experienced a white-hot flush of fear. If she got fired for being cocky, she’d never forgive herself.
“Bluntly put: Fraternizing with someone you’ve recently rescued. It’s a grey area, but it’s there, especially—”
“You can’t be serious?” Angel interrupted.
“Especially,” Bruce continued, his voice sharp. “Especially someone who’s known for risky behavior around fires. This could reflect poorly on the department.”
“How?”
“Did Ms. Samantha Matthews from Ellis Street not call the department for a false emergency last week?” His bushy white brows rose to the ceiling.
“She did, but—”
“And before that, did she not set her yard on fire with, umm… fire dancing?” He frowned when he said the last part, as if the fire dancing was complete gibberish to him.
“Yes, but that was an accident,” stated Angel loudly and clearly, defending Samantha when she didn’t deserve such a strong defense.
Both of those things were true. Not only had she set her yard on fire endangering the entire street, but she had also falsely claimed emergency the following day just to get Angel’s attention.
“Look, Angel,” said Bruce, his tone softening only slightly, but enough to show that the man at least had a heart.
Although she was sure at least half of it was made of steel.
“Firefighters are held to high standards. We can’t afford distractions, especially when it comes to individuals who might pose a risk to themselves or others.
This is California and there’s a high risk of wildfires. You know this.”
“My off-duty relationships have no impact on my performance at work. You know that as well as I do.” Her jaw was clenched as frustration bubbled up like a boiling pot of tea.
“Yes, Angel. But unfortunately, perception matters. And being seen with someone who’s known for risky behavior around fires could reflect poorly on the department.”
Angel was fuming. Every inch of her was hot and bothered. Digging her fingers into her jean-clad thighs, she tried to take in tiny, stabilizing sips of air. Bruce was basically reprimanding her for going on a date. How ridiculous.
“Fine,” she said tersely. “I hear your concern. Now is that all?” She was ready to get the hell out of there before the rage consumed her and she smacked his mug with its smug smiling face right off his desk.
Break department policy, my ass.
It all came down to the station’s appearance. With the surge in social media influence, everything had to look squeaky clean and perfect.
“It is,” he said with a subtle nod of his head.
Angel rose to stand and picked up her bag, which was lying beside the chair. Her appetite was gone. Frankie could have her breakfast if he wanted it.
“Before you go,” interjected Bruce when she reached the door. His face lost its hardness, his features were smoother and less restrained. “How are you doing, Angel? Are you coping?”
Angel knew exactly what he was referring to. The green-eyed girl. Not that she had any inkling to discuss the past. Some things were better left buried in a box. “Fine. I’m fine.”
But unlike before, when she was floating and free, Angel experienced a heaviness in her legs, as if there were chains around her ankles shackled to six-pound cement blocks she had to shuffle around.