Slow Burn, Chapter 1/21

CHAPTER ONE

The first thing Pullman noticed were the girl’s legs as they swung out of the driver’s seat.  He’d scrutinized a lot of feminine stems in his time – he considered himself quite a connoisseur, in fact – but the specimens before him now really took the cake.  Toned, supple, an even tan on her delectable olive skin…they were a work of living art.  The rest of the black-haired beauty only added to the artistry, of course.  And she was certainly the only work of art visible from the abandoned warehouse window.

Pullman’s impromptu art appreciation seminar was cut short by a cuff to the side of the head.  “Ow!  What gives?!”

The heavyset John Grady glared back at him.  “Focus, Pullman!   There’s still a lot to do, and we’re practically running late as it is.  Don’t have time for you to stand there slack-jawed.”

Pullman protested.  “All right, all right, I hear ya.  But would you take a look at that!”  He gestured out the window.

The older man sauntered over and peered out.  His eyes widened slightly, and he stared for a moment before chuckling.  “You always did have an eye for a piece of ass.  Got you into trouble, though, if you recall.”  Grady buffed the dirty glass, ineffectively trying to get a better look.  “And what have you noticed about our little arrival?”

Pullman cackled.  “The legs!  Duh!”

“That’s a damn short skirt, I’ll grant you.  But did you see what she’s doing?”

“Uh…”  Pullman squinted out uncertainly.  The leggy girl had slung a bag with a protruding microphone over her shoulder, and she was talking with a man who had also emerged from the van.  The latter was carrying a large mobile television camera.  “Oh!  The reporter!”

“Yes, the reporter!” Grady whined in a mocking falsetto tone.  He quickly shifted back into his natural baritone.  “That means Captain Cunt will be here soon.  So get in gear.”

A knock sounded at the door.  “That’ll be Ybarra with the rest of the supplies,” Grady said, moving toward the doorway.  “Hurry up.”

Pullman tore his eyes away from the window and back to his task.  After satisfying himself that the tasers were fully charged, he started loading the pistol.

On the street outside, the curvy reporter and her cameraman disappeared through the doors of Paradiso Street Fire Station.


* * *


Dina Reed rubbed her temple with a manicured hand, trying to numb the onset of an all-too-familiar headache.  The reporter’s comely face evinced a furrowed brow.  “Are you telling me that Captain Hawkins is not even in the building?”  Her voice held the merest hint of an edge.

The station lieutenant, Marigold Thompson, spoke with strained politeness.  “As I already said, Ms. Reed, I’m sorry, but we haven’t heard from the captain yet this morning.  Perhaps she’s caught in the same traffic you mentioned.  The I-405 can be a bitch in the mornings.”

“And as I already said, lieutenant, we were able to make it here on time through creative improvisation.”

“I’ll say,” Dina’s cameraman Nick interjected at half volume.  “My head is still spinning after that drive.”  Dina shot him a death glare; Nick winked back mischievously.

The reporter for KABC continued icily.  “I should think your captain would be more than capable of the same.”  The two young women locked eyes, Dina’s blue-gray staring into Mare’s pale green.  Neither flinched.

Finally the blonde spoke.  “Again, she’s not answering her phone.  I’m not sure what else you want me to do.”  The lieutenant’s fingers clenched and unclenched the hem of her dress uniform skirt.  “We’re very busy here, as I’m sure you can understand.  Perhaps you’d like to reschedule?”

Dina closed her eyes and pursed her lips, a deep sigh evincing a withheld outburst.  “…No.”

Mare’s response was abrupt.  “Then all I can suggest is that you wait.  Perhaps you’d like to speak to some of the other crew members in the meantime.”

Dina sighed again and opened her eyes.  “That would be fine.”

Mare effected a plastic smile.  “Certainly.  Just give me a moment.”  She stepped away quickly, her pale golden blonde ponytail swaying behind her as she went.

As soon as it was evident that the lieutenant was out of earshot, Dina leaned her back against the wall and cast her eyes heavenward in frustration.  “I can’t.  Believe.  It’s happening.  Again.”

Nick frowned sympathetically.  “How many does that make now?”

Dina crossed her arms over her chest.  “Five.  Five interviews arranged with this woman, and five that have fallen through for one reason for another.  If I didn’t know better, at this point I’d be doubting whether Captain Lorelei Hawkins actually exists.”

“Can’t exactly blame her for being busy,” Nick said cautiously.  “From what I’ve heard she’s been working double overtime to get this old place built up again out of almost nothing.”

“That’s the whole point of the story!”  Dina threw her hands up in frustration, then began wildly gesticulating.  The tendency was part and parcel of her Italian heritage.  “The first all-woman fire station in Los Angeles!  New battalion and everything.  Captained by the same Lorelei Hawkins who finally blew the lid off the sexual harassment in the city fire department!  The one who finally said, ‘No, that’s enough!’  It’s groundbreaking!”

Dina’s voice softened.  “Doesn’t she realize how tenuous her little pet project is?  How much a little good publicity can help?”  She brushed some dark brown hair out of her face.  “I remember watching live when she was facing down Chief Grady during the hearings.  She’s absolutely fearless.”  She looked Nick in the eyes, searching for confirmation.

“You two have that in common,” he said thoughtfully, glancing back.

Dina smiled uncertainly and looked away.  “I admire the hell out of this woman – and I want this story like hell.  But now we’re on the eve of her big press conference and I haven’t even been able to get two minutes with her.”

The door at the end of the hall opened, and Lieutenant Thompson beckoned.  “This way, please.”  There was resignation in her voice.

Nick shouldered his camera.  “Oh, buck up, Deenie.  We’ll just camp out here till she shows up, then she won’t be able to escape.  We’ll get some good secondary footage with her crew while we wait.”

“I suppose.”  Dina adjusted her bag as they set off down the corridor.  She chuckled.  “And haven’t I told you enough times not to call me that?”

“Evidently not,” he snickered.