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“Alright… Alright… Alright! My lovely, esteemed ladies of Ember Creek – are you ready to play with fire? Are we having some fun yet? Just look at these fine specimens we have here today…”
“Not yet… but getting there, Mayor Winstead!”
“Right? You’ve got some flamboyant young men that are eager to get this auction started… and let’s hear it for the Flirt’s Battalion!”
“First…” Kyle hissed, mortified. “FirstStreet battalion… not Flirt’s!”
The mayor actually ignored him… and picked up a gavel to bang it on the small podium that she was standing at.
“We’re here today to raise funds for the children’s home, and every dollar spent is being donated one hundred percent to Sister Agatha’s loving care. It will help pay for school clothes, supplies, bicycles, and computers for the children, bringing so much joy and support to our beloved community – that is supported so wonderfully by our wonderful fire chief Reese Carpenter and the Flirt’s Battalion…”
“FIRST!” Kyle hissed, correcting her again. “You’ve got a typo, lady…”
Then Andy and Austin took their places, returning to the line, and Kyle listened in disbelief as he realized that the auction was beginning. He felt several sets of hands shove him up the steps, stumbling, as he walked forward, looking distinctly uncomfortable.
“Now ladies… remember this is for charity, and we have some pesky rules for this proceeding. Now, he might be a very handsome man, but remember this is for one evening with this young firefighter,” the mayor smiled – and immediately Kyle felt a shiver of dread run down his spine.
“This fine,finegentleman of theFlirt’sBattalion…”
“FIRST…” he hissed again, pointedly. “She meant to sayFirstStreet Battalion Firehouse…”
“I think ‘Flirt’ fits so much better…” a woman called out happily, waving her wallet… causing Kyle’s eyes to pop out of his head as he saw that it was Mrs. Kendall, who called them weekly needing ‘assistance’.
It was the same call every single time.
Mrs. Kendall claimed that she’d fallen and couldn’t getup – and specifically asked if Kyle was working that day. They would drive out and Kyle would have to endure the teasing of his coworkers, as he walked in to find her sprawled in various stages of undress, picking her up off the floor, and then suddenly?
She would have a miraculous recovery… asking him if he wanted coffee.
The guys always teased him about Mrs. Kendall – who was the same age as his grandmother Mae… and played bingo with the woman on Sundays at the Catholic church on Main Street.
“Hi Kyle…” she waved happily, wobbling her fingers at him, and making him feel cheap, sordid, and uncomfortable in that moment. He’d seen more of this woman than he would ever care to, and had requested that the team tell Mrs. Kendall that he was scheduled ‘off’ when she called.
“Hello, Mrs. K-Kendall,” Kyle said nervously, hating the way his voice stuttered, and he could feel his cheeks heating up.
“Ruthie, you behave now, young lady…” the mayor laughed, causing several in the crowd to chuckle with delight – as Kyle wished the floor would open beneath him.
Maybe lightning would strike the pergola and they would have to evacuate?
In that moment, he was sincerely grateful that he wasn’t having to pose for photos like Team Two… because he knew exactly who would mortgage their house or sell a kidney to be in some scantily clad firemen’s calendar photograph with him.
Mrs. Kendall.
Kyle swallowed nervously and scanned the crowd as he listened vaguely to the mayor speak.
“This strapping young man is good with his hands…”
“What?” Kyle whispered, realizing how she was twisting the small paragraph they had to write about themselves. “I do carpentry, work on my truck, and am able do small tasks around the house, like painting and electrical work.”
“He’ssooogood with his big, strong hands and can really work a tool…”
“Oh my gosh,” Kyle gaped, staring at her in shock and dismay as several people started to whoop excitedly, making his face turn even redder than it already was.
“He’s the one that holds the hose, ladies…” the mayor teased playfully. “Charity, remember ladies?”
“I’m on the nozzle team,” Kyle squawked, protesting. “I’m a nozzle firefighter, Mrs. Mayor. You’re painting a terrible picture of me…”
“TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS!” a voice called out.
