“I’d ask you to refrain from using coarse language, Jeff,” the council woman named Louise requested firmly.
“What else would you call it?” Jeff asked. “Straight up fire or fire damage closed down that whole shopping area and if the worst happened, those same things coulda took out the folks fightin’ it. I call that puttin’ your ass on the line. Now, no disrespect, Louise, but I didn’t hear about you in your gear fightin’ that blaze. I sure as hell didn’t hear about Stone doin’ it.”
That got another titter.
“They aren’t all asking for salaries,” someone else called loudly. “They want one salary for one guy. Town’s over two hundred years old and we never paid a single firefighter. Only pay a chief and he acts for the whole county so we don’t even pay his full salary. Think it’s about time we did that. Shoot, if it was up to me, they’d all get paid.”
“Yeah,” Jeff said.
“I agree,” a woman piped up.
“How about that,” Tom put in, standing. He looked around. “Who’s for a deferral of the vote so the council can take a look at this referendum and find some blasted money to pay all our boys who wear a fire helmet?”
“Me!” Jeff shouted.
“That’s got my vote,” the woman yelled.
“Me too!” a new man called, standing up to do it.
“I’m in too!” a woman added, also standing up and doing it continuing to speak. “We don’t do this, what’s next? We ask all the sheriff’s officers to do their jobs volunteer too? That’s crazy!”
A gavel banged and Councilman Whitfield called, “Quiet!”
Tom wasn’t quiet.
He looked to Boston and remarked, “You know, Stone, just because a pretty girl prefers a firefighter to you doesn’t mean all the boys at that firehouse need to suffer for you bein’ jilted. Far’s I know, you got served this lesson at least once before. Learn, son. You may actually land a girl one day if you stop actin’ like an ass.”
Oh God, he was referring to Mickey and me.
Small town.
Someone kill me.
I felt my cheeks flush as I sunk in my seat because several eyes turned Mickey and my way.
Yes.
Somehow they all knew.
Someone…kill me.
“Cool, Dad,” Cillian stated under his breath but under it for a boy his age, which meant he did it loudly. “You beat out Boston Stone for Amy? Awesome!”
“Right! Quiet! Order!” Whitfield commanded on another bang of his gavel.
Before anyone could disobey, he trained his eyes again over his specs on Boston and continued speaking.
“I’ve had a quick read of this, Boston, and I’m sorry to say that the current referendum we’re discussing was communicated to the citizens of Magdalene for their examination four months ago via our usual procedures, which means anyone could access and study it thoroughly. That time allowed plenty of opportunity for any resident of this town to share with the members of this council their concerns or to be present at this meeting to have their voice. The names on this document represent a negligible percentage of the inhabitants of our town and thus, I must say, it really carries no sway during these proceedings.”
“Have you had a close look at those names, Whitfield?” Boston asked threateningly.
“I have indeed,” Whitfield retorted immediately, flicking the papers to his side so the woman sitting to his left could take them. “And I’ll take this opportunity to share with you news I hadn’t intended to announce until the next election, but Sue and I are moving to Florida next year. I won’t be seeking reelection. However, your implication that the names on that document, some of whom donated to my past election campaigns, would sway me while I’m sitting in this seat is most unwelcome.”
At his tone, a tone that said it was more than unwelcome, it was insulting, slanderous and entirely unacceptable, meant everyone quieted and those standing sat.
“I meant nothing of the sort,” Boston returned.
“You most certainly did,” Whitfield bit out.
I smiled, deciding I liked our head honcho Councilman.
He kept talking.