Vertical Burn - Earl Emerson [20]
It was a slow process, but eventually she was welcomed into the fold. The lone holdout was Chub O’Malley, who’d been the driver on Engine 2 since the late sixties. One day the other crew members egged Chub into betting two gallons of ice cream that he could bench-press 150 pounds more times than Diana. O’Malley felt confident that even a flabby male was stronger than the fittest female. “One Rocky Road,” he said, as they walked into the weight room at Station 2. “And one chocolate chip mint.” Ten minutes later O’Malley was on his way to the hospital with a torn ligament in his elbow. While he was being wheeled out, Diana said, not unkindly, “Two vanilla.”
Six months later, on his first day back from disability, the crew taunted Chub about still owing ice cream, taunted him until he made a second wager. Double or nothing. At first Diana refused, but if Chub could do nothing else, he could make her angry. She stormed into the weight room and bench-pressed 150 pounds twenty-seven times.
O’Malley performed the exercise four times and tore the ligaments in his other elbow. This time he retired.
Diana was almost as tall as Finney, and moved with the grace of a large cat, certainly without the clumsy, masculine affectation Finney noticed some of the women in the department strove for. Her uniform always looked as if it had been pressed minutes earlier and might still be warm from the iron. She had perfect white teeth, chestnut hair, and wide cheekbones.
Finney was aware that she’d been looking at him for some time now, and her look was about as personal as he’d gotten with a woman in some time. Judging by the question in her eyes, she’d meant it to be personal.
“You don’t like me, do you?” she said.
“Pardon?”
“I just get the feeling you don’t like me.”
“Where did that come from?” She was right, but he was defensive, had thought he was hiding it better than he probably was. She was some kind of mind reader or something. He hoped she couldn’t see his chagrin.
“I can understand why. I mean, we went through that fire together, and now you’re getting shuffled around the city like a recruit, while here I am working out of your old locker.”
“I’m getting shuffled around because I’m on the lieutenant’s list. And if I’m acting uneasy, it’s because I owe you an apology.” He thought about the clumsy things he’d said after Leary Way, to her and others. He’d been particularly horrid to her. She’d been trying to help, and all he’d wanted was to be left alone. Their intentions had collided and he’d said things he wished he hadn’t. “I was rude. I should have apologized earlier.”
“I know you weren’t yourself after Leary Way. I wasn’t angling for an apology.”
“You got one anyway. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. But apology aside, you don’t like me, do you?”
She was on to him. From what little he knew about her, she’d always been an astute judge of character. He might as well have been naked. “I like you fine.”
“Is it because Bill had me stay outside that night?”
“I can’t get into this now.”
“Okay, when?”
“I’m sorry if I gave you the impression I don’t like you. I like you just fine.” Her eyes remained fixed on his, and it was clear she didn’t believe him, as well she shouldn’t. He didn’t like her. Undeniably, he felt electricity in his stomach when he was around her, but he hadn’t liked her since Cordifis’s funeral, and it bothered him that she had found him out and that he didn’t have a good reason for his attitude. Or any reason. Hell, everybody liked Diana. And why wouldn’t they? She was sharp as a tack, amiable, straightforward, and she was a first-rate firefighter—that last a quality one wouldn’t necessarily expect to find in a beautiful woman. And without an ounce of snoot to her, as Bill had said that last day they worked together. Finney took a step back and looked around the room. “I miss this place. I thought I would, and now I do.” He turned to leave.
“Break a leg.”
“That’s the plan.”
11. THE GOVERNOR’S LIFESAVING AWARD
When Finney stepped out of the