Wick looked insulted. “Now, Jojo, don’t go around telling people that. He’s not a bad guy.”
Jojo narrowed her eyes at him, and then her gaze turned back to me. “He takes Tyler’s side every time. This is a sore subject with us.” She looked back to her dad. “So I’m not going to gratify his ignorant opinion of Maddox with a reply, but he is a bastard. If you know him, you’ve already slept with him, so I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that.”
Wick and Jojo both watched me, waiting for an answer.
“So?” Jojo asked, flattening both her palms on my desk. “Have you?”
“Slept with Tyler?” I said, swallowing. I crossed my arms, fidgeted, and made weird noises with my throat while I tried to find a way to change the subject. Normally I wouldn’t mind finding an abrasive, too-truthful answer for such an inappropriate question, but sobriety was a confusing time for me. “Have you?”
Wick turned to his daughter and put a cigarette in his mouth, holding it between his chapped lips.
Now Jojo was fidgeting and shifting uncomfortably. She stood upright. “I don’t think this is a suitable conversation for the workplace.”
“Damn it, Jojo! Now I’m going to have to shoot my favorite smoking buddy, because we all know I can’t kick his ass!”
Jojo rolled her eyes and turned on her heels, walking around the corner toward her desk.
Wick waited for me to put on my coat and then led me to the back alley. A small steel storage building behind the magazine’s main steel building created a cubby between the drive and us. A concrete pad provided parking spots for Wick and Jojo, but beyond that was a pasture full of snow and the intermittent rock poking through before a landscape full of Blue Spruce and Aspen trees.
“That fire station up the road … is that the hotshot station?”
“And the city’s second station. But some of the guys who work there are seasonal hotshots—like Tyler and Zeke. During fire season they live out at the Alpine barracks.”
“What is a seasonal hotshot?”
“During fire season, they eat, sleep, and travel around the country fighting fires. Three to six months of the year.”
“Oh,” I said, wondering if Tyler was already gone.
Wick sparked the white paper and tobacco and took a puff, then handed me the lighter so I could do the same with one of my father’s stale leftovers. The pack had three somewhat mashed cigarettes left, and I had just thirty-four dollars of the money Finley had left for me. Prices weren’t something I had paid attention to, but I was sure I couldn’t afford cigarettes before my first paycheck.
“Does nine hundred a week mean you pay me every week, or were you just talking wages?” I asked, rubbing my head. I could feel a headache coming on.
“Every week. Just like my bar staff.”
“So … on Friday?”
“Friday.”
Seconds after Wick answered, I heard boots crunching against snow. Zeke and Tyler rounded the corner, already smoking and carrying on conversation. They both looked happy but unsurprised to see me, and then both took a turn shaking Wick’s hand.
“Taylor!” Wick said. He noticed his street clothes the same time I did. “You must be off today.”
I frowned, wondering if Wick was trying to be funny or he’d just gotten Tyler’s name wrong.
“I heard you finally found someone to put up with your shit, Wick,” Tyler said.
Wick had told Zeke and Tyler the day before I was hired. Now he acted as if he’d found out from someone else.
Zeke took a drag of his cigarette, and then playfully pulled at the sleeve of my puffy navy-blue coat. “Confused?”
I arched an eyebrow, unsure if it was a trick question.
Their laughter was cut off by the sound of Zeke’s pager. He pulled the clip from his belt and held it up, squinting. “That’s me.”
He patted Tyler on the shoulder as he nodded to Wick. “Maybe I’ll see you guys this afternoon. It’s just a meeting.”
I waved to him, and then crossed my arms as the air between the three of us who remained quickly turned awkward. Tyler and Wick traded smug grins, clearly sharing a silent joke at my expense. I glared at them, relieved when Jojo poked her head out through the back door.
“Annie is on the phone for you.”
“I’m on a break,” Wick growled.
“You should probably take it. It’s the refrigerator again.”
“Damn it, damn it, damn it!” Wick said, tossing his cigarette and missing the canister.
The back door slammed behind him, and I picked up his still-lit butt and buried the end in the sand.
“Good thing you picked that up,” Tyler said.
“I’ve heard that one already,” I said, taking a drag.
Tyler pulled his cap low over his eyes, and then shoved his hands deep in his coat pockets. Before I could ask him how he managed to get the day off, he grinned.
“How is it? Working for Wick?” he asked.
“Not as bad as I thought it would be.”
“That’s unexpected.”