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“You are one crazy motherfucker,” Brady huffs, jumping off the truck.
“Part of the job, my friend,” Mitchell says, wiping the smudge off his cheek. “Wilson, you’re up, rookie. Make sure she shines nice and bright.”
“Sure thing, Lieutenant.”
We head into the station, stripping our gear in the locker room. “You see that hot blonde standing on the sidewalk? Pretty sure she was giving me fuck-me eyes,” Brady says, jumping into the shower.
I follow suit, needing the hot steam to loosen the tightness in my neck. “You sure it wasn’t the seventy-pound dog I carried out of the burning house she was making googly eyes at?” I rub my shoulder.
Mitchell bellows out a deep howl.
“So chivalrous,” Brady grumbles. “Always have to be the hero. Why couldn’t you leave the dog for me?”
“If she loved that dog so much, she shouldn’t have left her candle burning next to her hairspray,” Mitchell chimes in.
I wash off the grime from the fire and get out. As I dry off, Riggs, another rookie, pops his head in.
“Wallace, you got a call.”
“Any chance it’s a hot blonde thanking him for his services?” Mitchell asks. Brady whips his towel at him.
“Thanks, Riggs.”
“Make sure to tell her hi from Brady.”
“Fuck off, dude.”
I finish dressing and walk out, leaving those two idiots to bicker. I head down the hallway to the main phone. Picking up the receiver, I say, “Ben Wallace.”
“Mr. Wallace, hello. My name is Meredith Sanders from the Edwards Medical Group. I was ecstatic when I came across your application for the clinical study.”
“Excuse me? What now?”
“The clinical study. I was impressed with your introduction letter. It’s not every day we have clients come to us with such rare symptoms.”
“What symptoms would those be?” I ask, getting annoyed.
“Well, the bubbling rash surrounding your genitals. We’re very eager to see it in person. The photos you attached are quite extensive—”
“What photos? I didn’t submit any—”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Wallace, we are discreet. When our research team has you on the table, our professionalism is top notch—”
“Research team? Exactly what is it they’reresearching?”
“Well, you signed up to be a research participant.” Thefuckis she talking about? “You wrote in the notes you’ll do anything to relieve the itch you can’t scratch.”
It finally clicks.
That little—
“It also says you only have one testicle. Is that corre—?”
“Take me off your call list.” I slam the phone down. She’s fucking dead.
I storm through the firehouse, grabbing my shit from the locker. Brady pops out from the bathrooms. “You wanna get drinks after—?”
