"A Family Affair"
Chapter Four
By the time John Gage reached his apartment, the adrenaline rush he'd received, upon hearing that the 'powers that be' had approved his fire department family's application to appear on The Feud, had worn off and an unbelievable weariness had settled back into his bones.
The completely pooped paramedic took all three of his phones off the hook and hung his 'Day Sleeper' sign out on his front door knob. Then he stumbled into his bedroom and proceeded to fall face first—and fully clothed—onto his firm, but quite comfortable, orthopedic mattress.
He was so weary that even the hurt and anger had left him. Although he did slug his pillow a little harder than was necessary, to fluff its feathers up a bit.
All he seemed capable of feeling now was exhaustion.
Besides, when four weeks had gone by, and he hadn't heard anything back from either headquarters, or the studio, he'd pretty much figured his whole 'firemen on The Feud' suggestion was a complete wash, anyway. So it really was no big deal that his 'brothers' didn't wanna play.
John mustered up the energy to manage a bitter smile and lay there, wondering how long he would have to keep telling himself that, before he finally believed it. 'Oh well…' So what if the part he had written about how 'Station 51's 'family' members are always there for one another, both 'on' and 'off' duty' made him look like a complete dufuss.
The paramedic pushed the whole 'Feud' feud out of his mind. He was too pooped to hold a pity party, right then. There'd be plenty of time to feel sorry for himself later, after he'd had a few hours of blissful sleep…
Just as the exhausted off-duty fireman was about to drift off into La-La land, his front doorbell rang.
"Go away," Gage groaned and buried his head beneath his pillow.
But the doorbell kept right on ringing…and ringing…and ringing.
Extreme annoyance replaced the paramedic's extreme fatigue. He shoved himself up off of his bed and headed for his front door, to put a halt to the intrusion.
"Can't you rea-ead?" John angrily demanded, as he jerked his front door open. His weary eyes widened and his stiff bottom jaw suddenly went slack.
Standing there on his ground-floor apartment's front porch, were all five of his fellow firefighters.
"Yes," his Captain calmly replied. "We can read."
"Look," Gage began again, once he'd overcome his amazement, "I said I was sorry."
"Yeah. We know," Chet Kelly assured him. "So just shut up and listen. Cuz now, it's our turn." That said, he shoved his astonished shiftmate aside and invited himself in.
John just stood there, with his jaws once again gaping, as the rest of his fire department 'family' filed past him and into his apartment. He closed the front door and then followed his uninvited visitors into his living room.
"All I did was write a couple a' letters, asking if we could go on the show. I didn't know they'd okay'ed my request…until this morning."
"Yea-eah," Hank Stanley regrettably replied. "We know. Roy, here, figured that out…right after you took off in a huff."
"We're sorry," Mike Stoker sincerely said, looking—and sounding—more than a little ashamed. "We should have given you a chance to explain."
"Yeah," Marco Lopez whole-heartedly agreed. "But we were sort of…'upset', that you would make such an important decision like that—without consulting us first."
"I would never do that!" John assured all five of his remorseful friends.
"We realize that…now," his Captain quietly confessed.
Chet Kelly nodded glumly in agreement. "It's just that, at the time, we were all so steamed at you…well…I guess we weren't thinking too clearly."
"Hey, I wasn't steamed at him," Roy quickly reiterated.
John gave his closest brother a grateful glance and then briefly locked gazes with the rest of his A-Shift 'family'. "Apology accepted."
The previously glum-looking group immediately perked back up a bit.
"So…" Gage tentatively began, " are they going to ask another shift to play?"
"Nope," Kelly solemnly came back.
The dark-haired paramedic looked more than a little disappointed. "Why not?"
"Because they've already got us," Stanley answered, with a wry, sly smile.
The men watched, as the look on their youngest brother's face went from sad…to ecstatic.
"You sure you guys wanna do this?" John nervously inquired.
The guys smiled and nodded.
Gage flashed his A-Shift family a broad grin. "Great! Then, what a' yah say we all get some sleep and we'll regroup back here, later on tonight, to formulate a plan of action." That said—er, suggested, he began herding—er, shooing his brothers out of his living room.
The men exchanged slightly miffed glances and then stared disbelievingly at their bossy shiftmate.
"What's to 'formulate'?" their Captain pondered, on their way to the front door. "It's just a game."
"Right, Cap!" Chet Kelly insincerely agreed. "And we are so-o gonna kick those sorry cops' butts!"
His fellow firefighters couldn't help but grin.
But then Marco Lopez's grin gradually vanished. "I don't get it. Why can't we just wait until we're back on shift?" he complained.
"Yeah," Mike Stoker agreed. "Why can't we do our 'planning' back at the Station?"
"Too many interruptions," John simply told them. "See yah later!" he predicted, once his uninvited, but welcome, guests were all outside. He closed the door on their frowning faces and then began heading back toward his bedroom, leaving a trail of discarded clothing in his wake.
By the time the fatigued—but deliriously happy—fireman reached his recently vacated bed, he was down to his skivvies.
The pleased-as-punch paramedic slipped between his covers and then fell instantly asleep—with an arm over his eyes…and a smile upon his face.
TBC
