Sizzle (St. Martin Family Saga): Emergency Responders Read Free Page A

rang loud and crisp through the air, announcing the call to lunch. Clay couldn’t wait to see the rookie decked out in his special attire.
    “I don’t think I have to ask if you’re ready for this,” Jackson said, already grinning.
    “You better believe it. I’m going to run and grab the department camera. I’ll meet you in the dining room.”
    They laughed as they geared up for what promised to be soul-cleansing satisfaction.
    ***
    When Clay entered the dining room, the others were seated around the table discussing their workday plans. Two probies emerged from the kitchen with pitchers of tea and bowls full of ice cubes. Behind them came Keith carrying a pan of hamburger steak and even though Clay was ravenous, he forgot about his stomach. He laughed until tears leaked from his eyes. He tried twice to speak, but couldn’t. The kid was frozen in the doorway as he panned the room that had been rendered speechless at the sight of him.
    Clay didn’t want to be mean to the kid, but he had to teach him to respect experience and authority. While those things might not be as important as they once were, in the field of firefighting they could mean life over death.
    Keith looked even more ridiculous than Clay had imagined. His hairy white legs were long beneath the short skirt that barely covered his ass. The black offset the white in the costume and as he walked, the heavy layer of ruffles rubbed and crunched. The bodice was strapless and had a large white bow between what should have been breasts, but the boy had no cleavage. Thigh-high stockings hung like donuts around his ankles. As he walked into the room on black stiletto heels, he teeter-tottered, working to keep his balance. Hollywood, aptly named because it took him so long to get his hair just right, relieved Keith of the tray of meat and offered him a feather duster in return. Clay started snapping pictures, circling to get the getup from every angle. The back of the costume had a corset binding that trussed the kid up like a holiday game bird.
    Pumper stood and gave the welcome. “Probies, you will be given nicknames as they come to us. We’ve already assigned one name.” Pumper turned to Clay. “Chief, you’ve been calling him Joker, but I think you’ll agree he’s more a Colette than a Joker.”
    Clay lowered the camera. He cocked his head as he eyed the kid. “I agree. And if anyone asks, were it me, I think I’d say it has to do with coal baguettes rather than a French maid.”
    A lunch of hamburger steak, buttered noodles, and carrots was served. There was nothing French about the lunch except for the bread, and Clay ate three huge helpings. He’d worked up an appetite running drills all morning. As they were clearing the table, the alarm went off. Luckily for Colette, he’d already changed back into his T-shirt and cargo pants. This would be his first non-simulated fire.
    The experienced firemen were already halfway to the engines. Clay stuck his head into the kitchen to see the three greenhorns, eyes wide, staring back at him.
    “Let’s move!” Clay bellowed, and the probies shot into action like projectiles from a long-barrel cannon.
    While they rode to the scene, Clay checked the fastenings on Keith’s jacket and tested the kid on proper use of the respirator. Clay went through the protocol and waited for Keith to affirm he understood.
    “I thought you were going to call me Colette.”
    “It’s fine to joke around, but when we’re on a call, it’s serious. Your mind should be focused and your ego in check. Colette does not a hero make, and I’m not dead set on Joker either.”
    Clay winked at the kid and he smiled. Clay trusted that with the ice broken, Keith would listen and follow every directive.
    The call led them to an apartment building. When they arrived, smoke billowed from the third-floor windows. Keith followed his lead as he leaped from the engine before it stopped. Clay turned to the rookie and got in his face.
    “No