The Hot Shot - FILP Short Fiction

Jesse, MIHO (David), Rob, and Paul return to the Saloon

Author note: Paul, MIHO (David), Jesse and Rob first appeared in the novel Friends in Low Places (2021). Digital and paperback available through most major online retailers, including Bookshop.org (purchases go to support independent bookstores).

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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The Hot Shot

By Vince Wetzel

“It’s been too long since we’ve been in this place,” Rob said, standing at the threshold of the old saloon at the Lake.  

“Way too long,” Jesse said, tapping his much larger friend on the shoulder before walking in. “So, we have to make up for lost time.” 

Rob followed Jesse inside. The old wooden structure held the same rustic charm as it had when they last saddled up to the bar for a beer five years ago. Much had changed in their lives since then, but it was great to be back to someplace familiar. 

“Damn, MIHO. Five years and it’s like we never left,” Paul said, entering with David. “Geeze, if these walls could talk.” 

“They would not portray you in a favorable light,” David finished.  “And I thought we were moving past the high school nicknames now that we’re in our 40s.”

“Admittedly, not a good place in my life, but I’m much better now,” Paul said. “And you know you’ll always be MIHO to me.”  

David and Paul joined Jesse at a table close to the bar while Rob ordered a pitcher of beer.  

“Look, the saddle’s still here,” Paul said. “Was it really that high up?” 

“Yes, and we still convinced those women to get up there,” Jesse said.  

“Oh God, don’t remind me,” Paul said. “Besides, I don’t think our backs could take it these days.” 

“You enjoyed it at the time,” David reminded. 

“You guys won’t ever live that down will you,” Paul shook his head. His toxic relationship with sex was well documented and after five years of therapy, the topic was fair game for jokes from his oldest friends.  

Rob came back with a pitcher and four glasses and poured each of them one. The biggest of them all, Rob was a slimmer version of the person who was here last time. An ex-NFL linebacker, he had lost more than 75 pounds and married a woman whom he met on this trip many years before. 

Once the four glasses were filled, they raised their beers and tapped them in the middle of the table. 

“To Jim,” Paul said.  

“To Jim,” the rest of them said back in unison. 

Jim was the reason they were all here today and continued this annual trip together. When they were 18, he convinced them to go camping at the Lake above Fresno. Year after year they returned, until his untimely death. On their last trip here five years ago, they spread his ashes on the lake and vowed to continue this annual trip.  

They made a distinct change. They’d only come to this lake every five years while each friend would organize a trip to another destination for the other four. In that time, they visited San Diego, Park City, Utah, Seattle and Morro Bay, CA. 

“Speaking of Jim,” David said, looking directly at Paul. “Paul’s got some news.” 

Paul stared darts at David. Paul anguished how and when he was going to share his revelation with Rob and Jesse, who lived in Orange County and Reno, respectively. He told David two weeks ago and now David wouldn’t let it come out naturally.

Rob and Jesse looked at Paul with curiosity.  Paul exhaled as he was given a stay of confession. 

“Hey guys, what are we celebrating?” They all looked to the man approaching them from the bar. He moved like the saloon was his living room, a familiarity that comes with being a regular. He certainly wasn’t a vacation rat like them. He swayed as he walked, his eyes glazed and a shot of whiskey in his hand. Without an invitation, he pulled up a chair.  

Wanting to put off sharing his news, Paul capitalized on the distraction. 

“An old friend,” Paul said. He leaned forward. “Paul Buckley. Nice to meet you. What are you doing here?” 

“I’m Claude,” the man said. “Just having a beverage and hanging out after a long day.” 

“Oh yeah, what do you do?” Paul asked. Jesse, David and Rob looked at Paul with annoyance. They could have dismissed the guy and be left alone, but Paul always had to meet new people. It was what made him a good local sportscaster but made going out in public nearly impossible. 

“I’m one of those Hot Shots,” Claude said. “When the fires hit, they send me in to help tamp them down.” 

“Oh really? Tell me more,” Paul said. “I mean, wasn’t most of this forest burned in 2020? There’s a lot of burn scar.” 

“Oh yeah, but there’s still a lot of timber left,” Claude said. “2020 was tough, but we did the best we could. Saved a lot of the town of Shaver Lake down the road. Saved this old building too. But they take me up and drop me off where they need me.” 

Rob looked at Claude with skepticism. He was friends with firefighters and “Hot Shots” and that’s not exactly how he thought it worked. He was already tired of Claude. Paul continued his inquiry. 

“Wow, that’s amazing,” Paul said. There was an air of condescension in his tone, like he was calling bullshit too. While therapy also taught him not to be an asshole, sometimes he wanted to play. “Tell me more about how they drop you in and what you do?” 

“They pick me up here,” Claude said. “They bring a helicopter and land it on the beach and I and a couple of other guys get in and then they take me to the fire.” 

Claude stood up from his chair, still wobbly, and put one leg on it and grabbed a corner. “Then I go in and I fuck that fire. I straddle that fucker and tell it who’s boss.” 

MIHO, Rob and Jesse leaned back in disbelief, while Paul leaned forward, grinning ear to ear. 

“I’m sure you do,” Paul said, trying to contain his snicker. “So, what happens with other fires. Like in other parts of the state. How do you get there?” 

Claude shifted his gaze. They could tell that his lie was getting away from him. He may have used this line before to either impress a lady or to get a free drink, but he was too drunk to really get deep into his legend. 

“Oh, I, um, am only assigned to this area,” Claude said. He drained his shot of whiskey. 

“Just these lakes?” Jesse asked. 

“Um, yeah.” Claude answered, becoming more uncomfortable. He shot his whiskey. “Well, I had better get going. I’ve got to get back to my cabin in case they call.” 

“And sober up too I bet,” Rob said. 

“Yeah,” Claude said and stood up. He dropped off his shot glass at the bar, said farewell to the bartender and left. They watched him, expecting him to drive away in a beat-up pickup. They were surprised to see him leave in a new bright red loaded Ford F-250. 

“Guarantee you he’s growing pot somewhere,” Rob said. “No way that guy is a Hot Shot.” 

“No way in hell,” Jesse added. 

Paul turned to the bartender and got his attention. The bartender looked as though he worked for ski passes during the winter, his curly hair unfurling out of his flat-brimmed skater hat.

“Is that guy a local?” Paul asked.

“I don’t know who that guy is,” the bartender says. “He comes in about once a month, and trolls for drinks from the tourists. Sometimes, he’s a Hot Shot. Sometimes, he’s the mayor. One time, he even said he was the Sheriff who patrols the lake. He’s always kinda an ass.”

Paul nodded and turned back to the table.

“The mystery man. I loved how he owned his ‘fucking the fire’ bit,” Paul said. 

“Geez, Paul. Why do you have to do that?” Jesse asked. “We knew that guy was full of shit even before he sat down, and you egged him on.” 

“But we have a story now,” Paul said. 

“And he is putting off his news,” David said. “C’mon Paul. No more distractions.” 

“What’s he talking about? What is this news? And What does it have to do with Jim?” Rob asked. 

Paul’s eyes turned from amusement to panic. He had avoided the topic all weekend, even with David’s prodding. He didn’t want to bring it up. His fear of his best friends’ reaction was paralyzing. 

“What’s going on?” Jesse asked. 

Paul breathed deeply, took a long pull of beer, before looking at his friends. 

“Well, as you know, five years ago, we all sat here and made a pact to look after Tracey and Willie,” Paul said. “Jim would want us to make sure his wife and kid were taken care of.” 

“Yeah,” Rob shrugged his shoulders. This was old news. 

“Well, I’ve been there. I’ve taken Willie to games. Played catch. Cheered him on at little league. I’ve also been there for Tracey, particularly through her dark times of mourning. She really missed Jim and went through some stuff.” 

Paul looked around. David nodded in encouragement.

“Well, about a month ago. I brought Willie, well he wants to go by Will now, I brought him home and Tracey invited me in for a glass of wine. Will was in the other room playing video games with his buddies. Tracey and I have gotten really close over the past few years as we’ve worked through our stuff with Jim. Well, what I’m trying to say…” 

“Jesus, Paul,” David interrupted. “They kissed. Friggin’ eh. He and Tracey kissed and they’ve got feelings for each other.” 

Paul looked at Rob and Jesse, who both stared back in disbelief. 

“It kinda snuck up on us and we’ve got this whole ghost of Jim thing going on, but it’s true that our friendship has somehow turned into something more. And we’re exploring to see if it’s going to work.” 

Jesse and Rob took a sip of their beer simultaneously. They looked at each other, then at David and then back at Paul. 

“For goodness sake, say something,” Paul said. 

Rob looked up to the saddle in the rafters, then back to Paul. His mouth was pursed. Then it widened in a full grin. 

“About damn time,” Rob said. “I think it’s great. Becky and I have been saying for like a year that you were going to get together. You are always over there.” 

“I think it’s great,” Jesse said, and he tapped his beer with Paul’s. “You’re a good fit. You are swinging above your league though.” 

“I know that,” Paul said. “Look, I know who has the top two spots in her heart, but maybe there’s room for number three in the batting order and I’m ok with that.” 

“Speaking of which,” Rob said. “What’s Will’s reaction.” 

“We haven’t told him yet,” Paul said. “Right now, we want to see if this is something. No sense in stirring that up before it’s time.” 

“But he loves you. I’m sure he’d be fine with it,” David said.  

“Maybe, but it’s a lot different being your dad’s friend and being your mom’s boyfriend,” Paul said, his eyes turning misty and his mouth dropping. “I can’t turn his life upside down like that. If he’s not cool with it… I don’t know what I’ll do. I can’t hurt that kid. I made that promise to Jim first.” 

“That’s tough man,” Jesse said. “I get it. That’s gonna be weird for Will, but you and Tracey deserve to explore what’s going on and see if you guys can find happiness together. I think Jim would want that too. Obviously, David you’re good with it and you’ve been around them all the most.” 

David smiled and nodded. He was closest to Jim when he was alive and was a shoulder Tracey cried on during those first few months. But over the years, David watched she and Paul steal looks from each other. He also watched Paul mature before his eyes interacting with this adoptive family. 

“I think Jim would be fine with this. I think he’d want them to move on and be happy and not be the one to prevent that.” 

They all nodded. Paul felt relief. He had real feelings for Tracey, but his guilt over it was painful. Knowing his friends were behind him and their feelings that Jim approved gave him confidence they could move on and explore a possible future together. 

“So, what now?” Rob said, finishing his beer. 

“I guess I buy us another pitcher,” Paul said, standing up. He placed his hands on the table and lifted his leg. “Unless you want me to go in like a Hot Shot and ‘Fuck that Fire.’” 

“Oh God, please don’t,” David laughed, almost spitting out the rest of his beer. 

Copyright Vince Wetzel and OT Press

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Side of Mustard

• I’ve had several people ask me What spurred you to write Friends in Low Places? At some point, I’ll share a little something regarding “The Making Of…” but today I want to talk about a sappy television series that was provided the Aha for structuring the story. For years, I had wanted to write a novel inspired by the trips I’ve taken with friends, but I didn’t know how to structure it. In Fall 2018, A Million Little Things debuted on ABC. Show premise: In Boston, a tight-knit circle of friends is shocked after a member of the group unexpectedly dies by suicide. The friends realize that they need to finally start living life as they cope with their loss. (Credit wikipedia). As soon as I saw the pilot, the basic FILP story came into focus. A couple of weeks later on a flight to Houston to watch a college football game (Gig ‘em), I banged out the first chapter. A Million Little Things ended its run last week and while it was a sappy (and sometimes maddeningly unrealistic) show, I enjoyed it and will always be thankful for making the idea for FILP click in my head.

• Dimming the beam: It’s been nearly a week since the Sacramento Kings were eliminated. Last week, I ruminated on what it meant for the city to have playoff basketball back. Pushing the defending champs to 7 games was an accomplishment. Almost ten years to the day after the league voted against moving the team to Seattle, the future finally looks in a better place. Now, I can return to passively watching the playoffs and put more focus on baseball, writing, family, etc.

• Note-to-self: Consider coastal fog when making travel plans. Santa Barbara is a great destination and I enjoy when I have to travel for work. But my flight down was cancelled and my return flight was delayed significantly, causing some major scrambling and frustration. All because of lingering morning fog. Sometimes paradise has its price.

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