We set to work on the food.
And I didn’t shut up.
“What was your favorite food when you were little?” I asked as we prepared four pans of lasagna.
Khi shot me a look and rolled his eyes. “Pizza,” he bit out.
“I loved restaurant pizza, but my parents were always insisting we make our own. The crust was always soggy and it was never as good as the real stuff.” I layered noodles in the greased pan.
“I make a mean homemade pizza,” Khi said absently and then clamped his mouth shut as if realizing he’d spoken. Out loud. To me.
I smiled. “I bet Bev would let us make pizzas one night.” Khi’s jaw tightened and I reeled it back in. “Not like us cooking together, just the whole crew making our own pizzas. You could share your crust secret so we don’t end up with a soggy mess.”
Khi’s face softened a bit. “Yeah, maybe. Bet Hadley would like it.”
We went back to working in silence as we layered noodles, sauce, meat, and cheese in two of the pans. The third pan got just noodles, sauce, and cheese. The fourth pan was chickpea noodles, sauce, zucchini, carrots, squash, onions, and mushrooms.
As was often the way of life at the station, right as the food was coming out of the oven, we got called out. Khi pointed a finger at some of the other crew members as we headed to the rig. “There will be some of that meat and cheese lasagna left when we get back or heads are going to roll.”
That got some laughs and assurances that there was no way they’d eat four entire pans of lasagna during one call-out.
We’d been called to a residence where an elderly woman reported she was stuck on the kitchen counter. The dispatcher couldn’t get much other information from her because she’d dropped the phone.
As we arrived, our radio crackled to life. “I think she’s on the counter because of a mouse. The screaming you hear is every time the mouse runs from the pantry to under the fridge,” the voice reported with a hint of laughter. “She’s been yelling to tell me what happened and that she’s sorry she threw me away.”
Khi’s hand shot out and grabbed my arm. His gray-blue eyes, which Gabby told me he inherited from their mother, were wide with apprehension.
“What?” I asked.
“I don’t do rodents,” he gritted out.
I chuckled. I wasn’t going to make fun of a person for any type of fear, but it was kinda funny to see big, bad, grumpy Khi having to admit he was scared of a mouse.
“Well, suck it up, buttercup.” I parked the bus and radioed that we’d arrived. “I seem to remember a recent call where I communicated my extreme displeasure at having to hold the head of a fucking snake while you and the son unwrapped it from the mom’s leg. What was it you said? Our job doesn’t stop for fears. Yeah, I think that was the line.” I opened the door. “Come on, we have a job to do.”
Khi’s light eyes caught fire as he glared at me and climbed from the rig.
“I fucking hate you right now,” he mumbled.
“You fucking hate me all the time, what’s new?” I shot back.
A couple Remington police officers were already on the scene thanks to a call from a neighbor who reported the lady’s screams.
“It’s not even a wild mouse,” Officer Kratz said with a smile. “It looks like a damn pet store mouse that maybe escaped from a cage.”
“Maybe it’s from the snake house a while back,” I said, chuckling. “Escaped being dinner and ended up here.”
Khi and I set to work checking in on the lady who had freaked out and climbed onto her cabinet, bumped an elbow and a knee, and was too scared to get down.
“Well, once I got up here, I wasn’t so sure what to do. My joints are bad and the quick climb set me on fire. No way I was climbing back down, especially since that damn rat was running around.” She pointed a gnarled finger toward the floor.
“Rat?” Khi’s eyes were as wide as saucers and his voice a full octave higher. “Rat or mouse?”
“I saw a tail, didn’t spend any time inspecting.” The lady shivered. “I swear it gets bigger and faster every time it runs across the floor.”
“It’s a mouse,” Officer Sneed reported as he gestured toward Kratz with a wry smile. “Damn man somehow caught the little shit.” He grimaced. “Apologies for the language, ma’am.”
“No apologies needed. I was saying much worse earlier. My phone was up here, but I threw it at the damn rodent. I’ll need to apologize to the kind lady on the other end.” She winced as we slowly picked her up from the counter and moved her to the couch.
“We’ll pass along your apologies,” Khi assured her. “I would have been throwing the phone and anything I could have gotten my hands on. Now, let’s check you out a little bit more and see if you need a trip to the hospital.”
A very proud Kratz joined us with a carboard box in hand as the woman declared, “Oh no, I don’t need the hospital. I’ll take my medications and rest today. I walk a mile on the treadmill every day, so I’ll be back at it tomorrow—don’t want to get too stiff and sore. I’ve got an appointment with my doctor next week so if I’m having any issues, I’ll let her know.”
We finished up with our patient. Khi and I agreed that she didn’t need the hospital and since she wasn’t interested in going it was a quick and easy wrap up for an entertaining call. We bid her goodbye as she settled in on the couch to watch a movie.
Sneed and Kratz were waiting for us outside.
“What do we do with this?” Kratz held the mouse in the palm of his hand.
“You get it the fuck away from me,” Khi
