Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 59647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
“Word. You just let me know.”
“Will do. Thanks again, Tony.”
“Hell yeah, brother,” he said.
“Later,” I said and hit the End button.
The call had been a happy surprise, and I felt like things were moving in a pretty good direction for me settling into town. Something as silly and fun as a chili cook-off could really help me to find my way in Ashford and maybe meet some people other than Tony and fellow firemen. Not that I was making any friends within the department.
My first day of real work, I instituted a new workout policy for the boys. It was really simple stuff, but I wanted to see how much pushback I got from them about keeping in shape. Normally, I wouldn’t dream of doing something like that, but these guys needed it. Fat and out of shape was the beginning of the problems in this small town, lazy coming in right behind.
Back in Nashville, the guys were easy to manage. They got along with their own business, and when the calls came, they were on top of it. Some of them spent the downtime reading, working out, playing video games, whatever they needed to do. But when a call came, you knew for a fact they could be on a truck or a bus in less than two minutes without any hesitation. And even that was slow for them.
Here, though, all I saw were guys sitting around on their phones or video games, eating and taking naps. It was like a volunteer crew gone wrong. It was no wonder I was sent there to get guys in shape, but the grumbling from the peanut gallery when I instituted the minimum workout rules with a log sheet was not exactly comforting.
“Hey, Chief,” I said as I knocked on the door of the ancient curmudgeon who had given me a green light. “Can we talk for a second?”
“Son, one thing about this department is that we have all the damn seconds in the world to talk. It’s why our boys are so damn lazy. What do you need?”
“Well, I wanted to talk to you about that, but first, I wanted to get your opinion on something.”
“Sure,” he said, leaning back in his chair. Chief McDaniel was a large man but not fat. He was built like a brick outhouse but certainly not what someone would describe as out of shape. He was tougher than a two-dollar steak, and it was easy to see just by looking at him, even in uniform.
He stretched back in his chair with his hands behind his head with what passed for a smile on his perpetually grimacing face. I took a deep breath and went for it.
“There’s going to be a chili cook-off at the fairgrounds this year, and I won some competitions for mine back in Nashville. I’d like to enter on behalf of the department, but I’d need your blessing, of course. If not, I’d like to enter on my own.”
Chief McDaniel sat there, stone-faced, his slightly alarming amiable smile fixed. It was like he was waiting for more, but I had nothing else. Desperately, I tried to think of another way to sell it.
“I think,” I began, “that it would boost the morale of the boys. Get them something to be proud of. Plus, if I’m working on it during the down hours, them being involved in taste tests and me putting them to work chopping onions and peppers and stuff could keep them off their asses playing video games.” I cleared my throat. “Like you complained about, sir.”
Another long pause was followed by him slowly letting his fingers go and his arms falling down to the armrests of his chair. It creaked with the shift of his weight. The smile stayed somewhat fixed, but it was accompanied now with an almost imperceptible shrug.
“I don’t see the harm in it,” he said. “So long as it doesn’t interfere with you shaping these boys up.”
“Alright,” I said, pumping my fist a little.
“As a matter of fact, we used to enter the cook-off every year. Hell, we won it a bunch of times, back when Old Man Trafford was still here. He was a hell of a guy. Used to call me ‘kid’ if that gives you any indication of how old that man was. I’ve looked like I was forty-five since I was seventeen.”
I laughed, then covered my mouth. I knew it was a joke, but at the same time, acknowledging that Chief McDaniel looked like he was a pile of leather in a uniform seemed insulting.
“Are those his awards in the kitchen?” I asked, hoping to take the heat off me and redirect it to food.
“Yep. Trafford had an exceptional grasp of spice. Could make a chili so damn hot it made you sweat while you ate it, but you kept coming back for more because it tasted so damn good. Hard to do that.”