Branded

“Look, if it will make you feel any better, before I leave I’ll make some inquiries, find out if anyone else got any fun little notes on their front porches lately. While I’m doing that, you might want to make a list of all the people you’ve pissed off recently. Take your time, I’m sure it won’t be easy to remember all of those names,” he jokes.

“Oh, kiss my ass,” I fire back as I turn towards the door.

“Not on your life, sweetheart. I like my appendages right where they are, thank you very much. If DJ happens to catch wind that you were here, please do me the favor of calling me so I can at least get a head start.”

“Stop being so dramatic. DJ couldn’t care less about what I do or who I talk to,” I tell him as I pull open the door.

“Uh-huh, sure. And I’m not planning on getting laid tonight,” he laughs.

Without turning around, I raise my hand and shoot him the middle finger as the door closes behind me. His laughter follows me all the way down the hall as I make my way out of the building.

Leaning against the kitchen counter at the station, I calmly bring my coffee cup up to my mouth, listening to the familiar, ear-piercing page from dispatch that echoes through the building. Glancing down at my watch, I count down the seconds to myself.

Five, four, three, two…

The pounding of footsteps bangs through the sleeping quarters and I take another drink of my hot coffee as our newest paramedic comes racing into the kitchen with a frantic look on his face. His hair is all askew from being woken up so early, his white uniform shirt is partially untucked and buttoned wrong and he’s hopping up and down on one foot as he hurriedly tries to tie the laces of his black work boots.

“What’s the emergency? Where are we going? Is the truck stocked? Shit! Did I remember to stock everything last night and charge the equipment? FUCK! Why are you so calm?!” Brad shouts at me.

I shake my head at the newbie, setting my cup down on the counter. “Brad, that was the test page from dispatch. They send it out every morning at 7 am to wake us up. How many times do we have to listen to the different sounds the paging system makes before you remember what an actual emergency sounds like?”

I probably could have warned the guy last night before he went to bed since it was his first time sleeping here at the station, but it’s much more fun to wake up before everyone else and watch the newbie freak the fuck out.

I send Brad out to the ambulance bay to have him get started checking into what supplies and equipment were used during the last shift so he can restock and make sure all the equipment is charged and in working order. Going through the mental checklist in my head while I finish my coffee, I figure I have about forty-five minutes before our captain shows up. I need to meet with him and find out if we’re doing any special activities or training today and then take possession of the controlled substances carried by the ambulance from the last shift, inspect the narcotics and sign the narcotics log. I head down the hall past the sleeping quarters, listening to the men from last night’s shift go through their morning routines, joking and laughing about how they encouraged Brad to move his ass because the morning alarm page clearly meant a full-scale emergency.

Taking a seat in the common room at the desk, I check my email and print off a few updates to SOPs and guidelines that will require some meetings with the staff. Hopefully, today is a quiet day in the county so I can get all this shit done. An email at the bottom of my inbox from an address I don’t recognize catches my eye. The subject line simply states ‘Emergency.’ I click on the email and huff in confusion and disbelief at what I’m reading.

Did you have fun passing that whore around with your friend? Enjoy it while you can. Your time is almost up.

I read the email three more times before I whip my head around and search the room, expecting to find some of the guys standing there, laughing their asses off at the prank they pulled on me. Obviously, that’s an asinine thought since I never breathed a word about what happened between me, Phina and Dax to anyone. Who in the fuck would send an email like this to me? Did Phina tell someone? Did Dax?

Slamming my fist down on the desk, I pay no attention to the cup of pens that spills or the stack of papers on the edge that flutter to the floor. I’m so pissed off I want to pick something up and throw it across the room, but I don’t need the guys coming in here asking me what the hell is wrong. “Oh, no big deal. I had sort of a threesome the other night and now it seems like someone found out about it and sent me a fucked up email. So, who wants to make breakfast?”

“Jesus, you’re a hard man to get ahold of.”

Turning in my chair, I see Dax lounging casually against the doorframe. Fuck. First Collin sneaks up on me in the gym and now Dax. Why is everyone insisting on getting on my last fucking nerve lately?

“Not if I actually want someone to get ahold of me. Go away. I’ve got work to do,” I tell him, turning back around to the computer to see if I can figure out who the email came from.

“You don’t call, you don’t write…are you breaking up with me?” Dax asks.

“Fuck off, dickhead,” I mutter, clicking angrily at the keys on the computer.

I hear him move into the room and I growl deep in my throat.

“Now, now, don’t be like that. I will have you know that I’ve taken your threat from the other night very seriously. I haven’t touched Phina at all,” he tells me, flopping down into the chair next to the desk.