ROB TRILLING APPRECIATED how well Lillian handled the van at a higher speed. Even more impressive was
how well she could tune out Gary’s shouts to go faster. She knew what she was doing and didn’t need any guidance.
Though Rob had to admit her last turn toward the car lot was a little erratic—it felt like the van might have almost
gone up on two wheels while the other two made a satisfying screeching noise. Then she mashed the brakes and the
big van squealed to a stop directly in front of the car lot’s office.
A red Corvette sat on a pedestal at the front of the lot. The interior was on fire and spewing out noxious black
smoke.
Rob and his brother bailed out of the van quickly. Fido started kicking wildly in the back, the rear door resounding
with his movements.
Gary ran over to grab a garden hose attached to the side of the one-story building painted a light yellow with some
blue highlights. He raced back toward the burning Corvette as the hose unrolled behind him, but ran out about
fifteen feet from the car. The sudden jolt knocked him off his feet, water pouring uselessly around Gary sprawled on
the asphalt.
Lillian shouted, “There’s a fire extinguisher inside! Just to the right of the front door.”
She tossed Rob a set of keys, and he wasted no time, sprinting to the building. He didn’t want to know what would
happen when the fire reached the gas tank of the Corvette.
He opened the door and snatched a red fire extinguisher from a hanger near the front door. As he ran back to the car,
he jerked the safety ring out.
It reminded him of pulling the pin of a grenade.
Rob shuffled around Gary as his brother was lifting himself off the
asphalt. He lined up the nozzle of the fire extinguisher and squeezed the handle.
Nothing happened.
Gary came up next to him, panting, and said, “It’s been a while since I had the extinguishers inspected. What do we
do?”
Rob checked the extinguisher quickly. He assessed the fire again. The flames were starting to spread. Then he
smashed the end of the extinguisher against the asphalt. The top of the extinguisher snapped off and white foam
started to spout from the end of the red canister. Rob aimed the foam toward the fire.
Behind him, he heard a car’s horn blare. He turned his head to see Fido trotting down the middle of the street,
causing a pickup truck to swerve and be ep. Chet, his grandfather, was trying to catch up with the llama.
The foam was doing its job and smothering the flames. Gary found an old towel on the ground near the back wall
and soaked it with the water from the hose. He used it to beat out the last remnants of the fire in the back seat of the
Corvette.
Rob jumped off the Corvette’s pedestal and raced into the street toward Chet and Fido. As he passed his
grandfather, he said, “I’ve got him, Pops.”
But it wasn’t quite that easy. Fido didn’t appear to be getting tired. And Rob hadn’t realized llamas could move so
fast. At least now there was no traffic.
A pretty young woman with long jet-black hair emerged from the nearby gas station, holding a large cup, and Fido
turned toward her. He slowed his trot and stopped directly in front of the woman, who calmly took hold of the loose
rope connected to his collar.
Rob skidded to a stop right next to Fido and the young woman.
She smiled and said to Rob, “Usually Gary lets Fido run directly here.”
She tipped out some popcorn from the cup she held, and Fido eagerly ate from the palm of her hand. The young
woman’s jeans and jacket seemed to be enough to protect her from the biting wind.
“You know the old saying: Better to catch a llama with popcorn than chase it all day.” She patted Fido, then looked
up at Rob. “Hi. My name’s Cindy.”
“I’m Gary’s brother, Rob.”
“The New York cop? I was hoping to meet you one day.”
Chet strolled onto the gas station property. He looked at Fido and the
young woman. “That was a good save.”
She smiled. “Thanks, Mr. Trilling. You look good today.”
Chet smiled. “I look good every day, you just don’t always see me.”
Then he cocked his head. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Cindy.” She handed Chet the rope attached to Fido’s collar. As the older man calmly walked the llama back
across the street to the car lot, Cindy turned to Rob. “He pretty much asks me my name every day.”
Rob shrugged. “He gets a little confused sometimes.”
Cindy flashed him a smile. “Don’t we all.”