Page 18 of Burning for Alexander
IndexEchohad been right.
My fathers did love me. And they wanted me to live my best life, no matter what it looked like. Even if it looked like buying a crumbly old roadhouse in Montana and turning it into a gourmet pizza restaurant and wine bar.
“There he is.” Mali smiled brightly from the host stand when I pulled open the door to Timber. “Alex, there’s someone waiting for you at table twelve. Said it’s about something related to the vent hood?”
My stomach dropped, expecting it was Chief Kincaid again, here to complain. But when I walked over to the table in the corner, I saw an older woman in Carhartt overalls with short hair, a tablet, and a canvas tool bag.
“Vic Norman,” she said, offering me a firm handshake. “I’m here to fix your fucked-up nozzle.”
I let out a sigh of relief and grinned wide. “Vic, I could kiss you right now.”
Her eyebrows lifted, and a dimple popped. “I charge extra for that.”
The memories ofIndexEchofaded into the background of my mind, where they usually lived comfortably after these four years. And I focused instead on making sure Chief Judd Kincaid would be out of my hair as soon as possible.
So I could get on with the plan of following my dreams.
6
KINCAID
DrunkenPoet:It’s taking all my self-control not to ask for a pic of you.
IndexEcho:I’m suddenly hating that I’m a stickler for the damned OpSec rules on this job, Poet.
_____________________
I was scanningthrough emails at work when I came to a permit request for a restaurant to operate open-flame grilling during an outdoor event next weekend. The person applying for the exemption? Alex Marian on behalf of Timber.
Because of course it was.
“Jesus fuck,” I muttered under my breath before barking, “Sujo, get in here.”
Javi came hustling in, hair still damp from his post-workout shower. “Yeah, Chief. What’s up?”
I showed him the request. “What’s this Slingshot Showdownat Sundown?”
He grinned. “Oh man. It’s killer. A group of scouts started it like twenty years ago or something, and now it’s an annual tradition. You know the mountain’s called Slingshot, so the Showdown is basically a massive slingshot tournament. It starts in the morning with different brackets and narrows down to the best of the best by the evening. By the time the final round happens, it’s more challenging because of all the shadows on the mountain. You planning on going? You totally should, man. They’ve got food trucks and live music, crafts and shit. It’s a good time for sure.”
“I wasn’t asking because I’m looking for a good time,” I said, trying to retain my patience. “I was asking because Timber is applying for an open-flame permit.”
He pursed his lips and nodded. “Yeah. I think they do their Swiss mushroom burgers and stuff like that. Obvi can’t bring the pizza oven out, you know?”
“We’re on strict fire restrictions right now,” I reminded him.
“Yeah, but people gotta eat.”
I grunted and hit Reply, referring back to my first email from Alex Marian for help with the wording of my response.
Subject: Re: Application for Exemption Permit
Dear Alexander “Aspiring Arsonist” Marian,
Thank you for your last-minute and wildly optimistic application for an open-fire grilling permit during the Slingshot whatever-the-fuck.
While I appreciate your eagerness to earn a few bucks by endangering the local populace as well as all vulnerable wildlife and personal property, I feel compelled to point out a few things:
The “controlled outdoor cooking” you’ve proposed is, in fact, you attempting to operate open flames during peak fire season where a single spark could ignite half the county—something you mightunderstand if your job involved preventing disasters instead of creating them.
