Page 2 of Burning for Alexander
“I need to know who started the fire so I can write it up,” Kincaid said. “Arson or not, it was still a careless fire in a restaurant and needs to be reported. Also…” He met my eyes, cold blue searing into me. “No more fiery drinks.”
“That’s not fair!” I cried. “We’re known for the Slingshot Flame. People come from all over to try it! You can’t just take it away from us. Besides, I have a fucking fire effect permit?—”
He shrugged. “Not anymore. Consider it revoked as of now.”
Nerves coiled in my gut.
The Slingshot Flame was talked about in hotels, campgrounds, and Airbnbs all over the area.
I’d only been running Timber for two and a half years, and I was counting on this summer’s tourist traffic to help solidify my place on the map. Timber couldn’t afford to lose one of the things that made it unique and fun. It was hard enough sustaining a restaurant under any conditions, but in a very small town with large swells and dips, thanks to the fickle tourist population, it was impossible to know what might bring about the end of a place’s popularity.
I took a deep breath and dug deep, searching for any shred of patience and respect I could find for this asshole.
“Chief. What can I do to get the permit reinstated?”
“Fuck-all,” he growled.
Sheriff Westland sighed and shook his head. “Let’s all just calm down. I believe de-escalation is called for here. Alex, I agree with Chief Kincaid.” He held his hand up at the angry fire chief’ssmug expression. “But I think it’ll most likely be a temporary permit suspension while you and your crew undergo more rigorous training and submit to a full safety inspection.”
Kincaid’s eyes were smoking embers, and if the sheriff hadn’t been fully hydrated, the man might have incinerated on the spot. “I believe I carry the decision-making power for the Legacy Fire Department, Elias, do I not?” His voice was cold as he addressed our friendly sheriff.
Sheriff Westland’s golden retriever aura didn’t hide the fact that he had teeth like any other good dog. “Of course you do, but I don’t believe you’ve been in Legacy long enough to see the bigger picture. Maybe I can explain it to you back at the station. And maybe Alex, here, can make us a stack of pizzas to take to your crew while we’re at it?” He lifted his eyebrows at me.
If it had been anyone other than the sheriff, I probably would have told him where to shove my gourmet pizzas. But it wasn’t. And I owed Elias Westland a lot for his support over the past three years. “Absolutely. That sounds like a good idea,” I said quickly, moving around Chief Asshat to inform the kitchen to get started on the order.
The sound of the two alphas faking cordiality faded as I moved deeper into the kitchen. “Juni, sorry to do this to you, but I’m going to need an assortment of ten pizzas, garlic knots, and a variety of salads for the firehouse as soon as we can get them ready.”
Her steely eyes glinted at me. “You tell that posturing piece of sh?—”
“I got it!” Deena said, pivoting to the prepared dough mounds on a tray in a nearby rack. “Karim will put together the salads, right, Karim?”
He nodded and moved past me to the sink before washing his hands.
After everyone settled down, Juni, my head chef, glanced up at me with a reluctant nod. “You did good.”
That was all she said, but enough of the kitchen crew heard it, as tuned in to her as they were, that the room filled with nods and murmurs of agreement.
I blew out a breath and glanced back out the kitchen door to see if anyone was close enough to hear. “Did anyone see Tavo? The sheriff or the fire chief?”
Juni shook her head. “No way. That kid bolted, just like you told him to. He’s probably tucked away deep in the library by now. Maureen will look out for him, don’t you worry.”
She was right, but I still worried. Our kitchen assistant was a young man with the weight of the world on his shoulders and enough legitimate stress distracting him to have accidentally sprayed accelerant at the drink I was making. As soon as I realized what was happening and who was walking in the door of the restaurant at the worst possible time, I’d shoved him toward the kitchen with a hissed “Run.”
The last thing we needed was nosy law enforcement officers, including an asshole fire chief with something to prove, getting up in our business.
The kitchen staff hustled, working well together as a team, and got the order out as quickly as possible. There was a silent understanding in the kitchen that the sooner we got rid of the LEOs, the sooner everyone could take a deep breath and relax.
Poor Tavo didn’t turn back up until almost closing time, much later that night.
“You okay?” I asked, spotting him behind the dumpster after I tossed in a bag of trash. As soon as he stepped into the beams of safety floodlights on the back of the building, I saw how scared he looked.
“Alex, I’m so sorry! I promise it was an accident!”
I held open my arms. “Oh, honey, c’mere. We’re okay. I promise.”
He raced across the remaining yards of asphalt and launched himself into my arms. His small frame wasn’t enough to even make me stumble. Poor thing needed some meat on his bones, as my great-great-aunt Tilly would say.
Tavo’s body was racked with sobs I was fairly sure weren’t just about the fire at Timber, so I held him tightly until he was ready to let go. When he pulled back, his eyes were shimmery. “Can I… can I still, um, stay with you? Because I’ll understand if the answer is no.”
