The ride into work was a blur. Often it was, after ten years of traveling the route his car knew the way. This particular morning was one of those. It was nothing special to him. He remembered leaving his house, but not the drive. He remembered turning onto the Meadowbrook Parkway, but after that, nothing until he pulled into the parking lot of Station 35. He opened his office and put his briefcase on its chair. He long ago decided that in this cramped six by ten foot office his briefcase would have its own chair. And why shouldn't it, most of the time it was his only company, that and the Blues Harp given to him those many years ago by one special paramedic.
Stella D’Amico gave it to him the day the then Lieutenant Adrian Roberts was promoted to captain. Both were leaving Station 35 in Greenpoint Brooklyn, Stella because she was pursuing her dream and Captain Roberts because he had given up on his. That Friday in early June so many years ago after seven years of juggling her dream to be a rock star with a career in the FDNY as an EMT and Paramedic it happened; Her demos started to get some air play and then suddenly she was another overnight success at thirty-five and after twenty years of trying.
Adrian would never forget the first day he met her. He'd been assigned to the station only a few weeks. One warm fall night after a mutual tour swap with an evening lieutenant he was held over for the night shift. Stella's unit, Three-Seven Boy sat in the middle of Bedford-Stuyvesant and it was assigned to stand-by at a gas main break just in case it exploded and there were casualties. Lieutenants are assigned this jobs as command officers, but usually the units get there long before the bosses. The EMTs set up the stand-by with a initial radio report and setting up a staging area. Most of the time they are way too close, but Three-Seven-Boy was several blocks away right where they belonged, that alone was reason to be impressed by the operator.
The ambulance was backed into the street, and parked left to curb on the wrong side. The road was closed to everything but emergency traffic so it really didn't matter where thy were parked. Police cars and fire trucks were everywhere. Lt. Roberts walked around the back of the bus. Its stretcher was out of the back a few feet behind the ambulance against the curb with the crew's equipment piled on it. The back doors of the bus were open and an unknown EMT sat on its floor with her legs firmly planted on the back step. She wore the requisite helmet and safety coat and looked straight out at the scene. She was leaning forward her elbows on her knees and she was blowing a harp. As the lieutenant got closer he could see hear the music. She played along with the small boom box next to her. When he got a few feet he was able to make out the melody over the din of diesel engines. It would strike him years later how appropriate the song was for her. The third and fourth lines of the work were a perfect description of the EMT. “She was a black haired beauty with big dark eyes, points on her own sitting way up high, way up firm and high.” She looked up a little and made eye contact with the boss but never took her mouth away from the instrument. He watched and listened while she played the Bob Seger classic Night Moves to its end.
"You play that pretty well. Where's your partner?" He asked.
"Thanks, he's up there playing buff." She bobbed her head indicating the direction.
"Not you?"
"Nope, I'm no hero.” She paused, “Besides somebody's got to be around to transmit the ten-thirteen." Stella quipped referring to the signal for member or the service down.
"Something tells me, if it blows up, we'll know about it."
"Do you want me to go up there too?"
"If you were playing anything else yes. But I'm a big Bob Seger fan. Keep blowing the harp." Adrian said.
He walked up to the scene and stayed there until the gas was shut down. From experience he knew firemen usually reported injuries at the end of a fire when they begin to take up their equipment. Stella's partner and the officer walked back to the ambulance. Now the boom box was playing Wilson Picket, and Stella was still blowing the Blues Harp along with the music. The three waited until the last fire truck was off the scene.
"You know you are really good at that." The lieutenant said.
"Thanks, I know." She said, barely breaking the seal against the harp.
"Nothing like a little humility." Her partner said.
"Humility doesn't suit a rock star." Stella answered, again barely breaking the seal to speak. She went back to blowing the harp.
The radio squawked and the trio was released by Battalion Chief. Stella stopped playing in mid measure and put the harp in her breast pocket of her shirt. She took off the turnout coat and folded it neatly. She set it on the helmet and pulled the chin strap down tight to hold the two together and tossed it to her partner. He opened a compartment on the outside of the ambulance and locked away both sets of gear. The two EMTs put their medical equipment away and locked the stretcher back in place.
"A rock star huh?" Adrian asked.
"Yeah" She answered in a very non committal tone.
"I was a sound engineer for a while."
"Really" Stella replied with obvious placation. She looked at the officer and sized up his age. He was a late boomer. Everybody in his generation who can’t play was either a roadie or a sound man she thought.
"I went to school for it." The officer added.
"Really." She said with more placation.
"Institute of Audio Research."
"NYU and Juliard." She said very matter-of-factly.
"Really" The lieutenant responded with fascination.
"Bachelors from NYU, Masters from Juliard."
"What instrument?"
"Viola."
"She does have some modesty. She was salutatorian at NYU." Her partner said.
"Impressive." Lt. Roberts said.
"Thanks." She said. Now there was a hint of a smile and a slight flush of pride visible. She tossed her long black hair in the wind and walked to the cab of the ambulance. "Rock stars don't play violas."
"Conditions Three-Five to Central, Kay . . . ten-ninety no patients, myself and three-seven boy are ten-eight." Lt. Roberts spoke into the radio clearing both units. She closed the drivers door on her bus and started it. A few minutes later both were on different assignments.It would be a few more days before the lieutenant actually saw her work on a patient.

It was an early morning call and not a serious one either. One of the tens of thousands of the sick kids that New York City Fire Department EMTs treats and transports every year. The assignment came in as a child home alone.
Adrian had just logged onto the car’s computer dispatch system. “Conditions Three-five to Central put me on the back of Thee-seven Boy” He said into the mic. The call had the potential for media coverage it true, so he chose to roll with the unit.
The child wasn't home alone, mom just knew the magic words that would get a quick response. It was a kid with the flu and mom had no car fare to get the kid to a clinic. Lt. Roberts arrived to find Stella holding the boy tight to her chest humming a Mozart melody. The toddler was clinging to Stella like she was a her mother. It is a tell tale sign a child is really sick when they are willing to bond to a stranger. Three-seven Boy headed to the hospital and the lieutenant went to pick up coffee. He was still in the station having breakfast when Stella and her partner walked in at the end of their tour.
"That job was bull shit!" She exclaimed.
"That kid was really sick." Lt. Roberts answered.
"No, not the kid, the mother. Do you know what she did?" She asked rhetorically, and without waiting for a reply she continued. "We weren't even in the hospital five minutes, I mean we barely got the kid triaged and she disappeared . . . we found her at the bodega across the street on her second beer. She had no fucking money for a taxi ride to a clinic but she had money for beer.”
"You should have to be licensed to be a parent." Her partner said.
"Like your partner." Lt. Roberts said.
"Not on your life, no way am I gonna reproduce." Stella declared.
"I saw you with that little boy. You're a natural." He added.
"Don't even go there, the kid was sick."
"So, there are people on this job who couldn't connect with a patient that way."
"He was just a little. . ."
"Boy", Adrian cut her off. "It doesn't matter child or adult there are people who are expert technicians but have absolutely no feeling." Stella blew him off. She dropped her paperwork on the desk and walked out of the office.
Over the next few months Lt. Roberts had the opportunity to witness her on other assignments. There are EMTs that are expert on medical calls, others can handle all forms of trauma, Stella could do both with a rare level of expertise. Her patient care skills were only half of what made her exceptional most notably was her ability to connect to a patient without being connected. The relationship is perceived to the observer as genuine concern, but before and after the job Stella would rant about the stupidity of the assignment.
Six months later she was doing overtime on a sleepy Sunday morning and had an hour to kill before her day tour partner showed up. She sat in the lounge with a small amplifier and electric guitar playing some licks the officer couldn't place. He sat down with his coffee and listened for a few minutes. From the way she played, a listener could tell she was well trained and well practiced.
"Original stuff?" he asked.
"Like it?" She answered.
"I'd expect a little more from someone with your musical background." He said matter-of-factly. She looked puzzled. "I mean the good old fashioned three cord progression from someone with graduate degree in classical viola."
"Well, its all you really need in rock'n roll." She said, then added. "Hey I thought you said you didn't play?"
"That doesn't mean I didn't try, besides I told you I'm a trained recording engineer. I understand the craft, I just can't work it."
"Pity."
"Yeah." Stella went back to playing the guitar. Adrian sat down, sipped his coffee and listened. She started to add a few more cords, then looked straight at him and began a lead improvisation that had the lieutenant riveted to the chair. The girl was truly a talented musician. Only the scream of an alert tone over the radio brought him out of the trance this lone guitar wove. Stella’s partner showed up in the doorway of the lounge and listened for a moment. When she spotted him she stopped in mid-measure. "Well I guess its time to go to work." She packed up her gear and stashed it in the lieutenant's office.
"Hey Ms. D'Amico" He called to her as she walked out to the bus.
"Why so formal?" She answered.
"Well this is official, sort of. I hope you get the career you want. That is I honestly want to see you get your dream as a rock star."
"But." She saw it coming.
"But, you know how fickle the music industry is." She gave him an nasty look. "I've watched you know for several months. You really are cut out for this work. Your skills are some of the best I've ever seen and your attitude toward the profession is among the best I know. You should consider taking a medic course. You'd really be wonderful at it."
"Fuck you. I don't wanna be here that long. . . I'm sorry lieu, but you just don't understand."
"I understand better than you think, and unlike the rest of this garage I know your true age. You know how much longer you have to get a break. Especially in that genre."
"Well I got to give it a shot."
"I expect you too. But think about the what ifs." Adrian said.
"I'll think about it."
"And one other thing, maybe two."
"What?"
"You are wasting your talent with that hard rock heavy metal stuff. Pick a genre were age doesn't matter and talent does; classical, or jazz, even country is more forgiving about age." He paused. "And, where is your next gig?"
"Would you really come? I thought my head banger stuff wasn't your shot of whiskey."
"Its not, but I still want to see you perform."
Over the next months, Stella made it her business to stop by the office every time she saw him there. They would talk about music and her career she would play the harp sometimes and bring CDs of her band Star Brilliance. It was good and the music was saleable but it was simple. The music itself was a showcase for the lyrics. A score for the rhythm guitarist's poetry which wasn’t anything anything spectacular. But every once in a while Stella would do a lead solo that she wrote into the work, man could she play. If this was how she played a guitar what could she do with a viola. During those discussions he could feel the energy she put it into both her music and her work as an EMT. But for all her talent she was still playing in a bar band, he thought.
A couple of years later she sat down in the supervisor’s office after her tour. and put a brown bag on the desk in front of her. "You know Miguel is taking the medic screening test?" She held a brown paper bag. She waited for the office to clear out then opened the bag and pulled out two cups of coffee. She put one on his desk and opened the lid on the other and pulled the harp from her pocket.
"He'll make a good medic." Miguel was her partner back then. He was a nice guy that life had dealt an ugly hand. He did some stupid things when he was a kid. The kind of things that seem to follow you. But he rose above them, met a girl, got a decent job, got married, had a kid. Then bam! His wife was caught in a drive-by shooting, and he was a single parent. He almost went back to doing stupid things again. Instead became an EMT and was hired by the fire department. "What about you? Are you gonna take it with him? Just in case."
"He's on my ass to. . . I have been helping him study. So maybe."
"Good, you'll make a good medic yourself."
She'd been blowing the harp for a while. Adrian closed my eyes and listened. The tunes she improvised with this simple harmonica were more melodic and complex then anything he heard her perform with a guitar.
"So when did you loose your axe?" She asked. The question came out of the blue.
"I told you I can't play." He said.
"I don't mean that. You have the soul of an artist. You created somehow. What was it, painting, pottery, woodworking . . . more importantly where is it now?”
She saw his eyes dart over his backpack. Stella slid her chair over to it and opened it up. Adrian just watched in awe at her impudence, but he didn’t try to stop her. She pulled out a laptop and a box with a manuscript box. Everyday Adrian brought the two into work hoping he’s have the time and interest in writing. Stella opened the box and looked at the title page. "A novelist, okay that's the axe. Now where did you leave it."
"I don't know. I just laid it down somewhere, when I got focused on this job."
"See that's exactly why I don't want to take the medic test. I don't want to ever be tempted to lay it down."
"But you can't always pay the rent with your art." He said.
"Yeah, I can't dig that whole starving artist thing myself. But man you know what its like when the applause start. Its like I'll never need food again. I could live on the applause." She said.
"It's a little more somber for the writer." He answered
"Yeah but you know the feeling, I know you do.?"
"Its similar to hearing thank you on this job."
"Right!" She agreed. "We don't hear it often but it feels good when you do. . ." She looked at the clock and got up. “Time for me to go home." She started out the door then turned, "Listen, I'll make you a deal. I'll move up on the day job. But you start back on the night gig."
"What do you mean?" He said being purposely dense.
"I mean lieu, I'll go to medic school, you start writing."
He thought about it for a minute and agreed. Even as she walked out of the office, Adrian knew she would do more to live into her end of the bargain. There is very little to say about that part of their friendship. Stella became a medic and was assigned to a nearby station, her songs began to get some air play locally, and the two ran into each other from time to time. Eventually she was reassigned to station 35 again. Their conversations continued but they had lost the spark they had only a few years before. One Friday morning she stopped by with coffee. They were talking about her last call, a particularly bad pediatric trauma when her cell phone rang. At the same time his desk phone also rang. Ten minutes later she was on her way to agent's Manhattan office and he was on his way to headquarters. Several hours later both were back at the station. She had an even bigger smile on her face than normal and a signed contract in her hand. Adrian had two silver bars on his collar where earlier there had been only one.
The two hugged and congratulated each other. A few days later the station threw them both a farewell bar-b-que. When he closed up the office that night his manuscript was pulled into the center of the desk on it was a note and the harp. "Remember our bargain. Love always Star" The note read. That was ten years ago.

*******************

"Cap, this came for you with the morning messenger." The day lieutenant handed him a sealed envelope. He recognized the package, it was orders for a special detail.
"These things are usually sent via e-mail." He took the envelope and went into his office. He sat down and opened his e-mail. "You are to report for your interview for promotion to Deputy Chief at 1300 today by order of Chief of EMS Operations." He looked at the dress uniform hanging on the back of the office door. It was about time, he’d been eligible for promotion for eight years. He turned on the TV and tuned to New York One Cable News. There was Stella D'Amico or just Star as her fans knew her. She was in her Fire Department dress uniform at a press conference with the Mayor and Fire Commissioner.
"Star was having dinner with her agent." The anchorman reported. "When suddenly at the table next to her a man collapsed. Star acted quickly and her old training as a New York City Paramedic came back. She quickly assessed the man and finding him in cardiac arrest, immediately began CPR. Her quick actions saved the man's life." The footage showed the Mayor giving Paramedic Stella D'Amico the yellow and orange uniform citation for a Pre-Hospital Save. She accepted it and declined any further comment except all she did was her job. Captain Roberts laughed, it hadn't been her job in a decade. He swallowed a sip of coffee and opened the orders.
He was assigned as the EMS command officer for a concert at the Brooklyn Academy of Music tonight. “It’s going to be a busy day.” He said to himself and read further. There would be two paramedic units and three EMT units assigned with him. The venue sat fifty-five hundred, but the street outside would also be closed and the concert would be shown on a jumbo-tron erected for the event. He continued reading the orders. The units will muster at Hanson and Ashland Places at 1830, the event will start at 2000 and should conclude by 2230. The order listed command frequencies to be used and contact names and numbers for the venue and event organizers, all standard stuff. Then he read the event title "Star Brilliance's Farewell Concert." Stella had come back to Brooklyn for her farewell performance with her band. There was also a backstage pass and a sealed envelope, "Open at 2130 hours," written on it.
He put it all back in the original envelop and tossed it to the side, knocking the harp to the ground. He picked it up, fondled it and put it down on top of the orders. He looked at the dress uniform and the calendar with his scheduled retirement date circled was just fourteen days away. The afternoon's interview was merely a formality, the promotion from captain to deputy chief was his, but it would also involve signing a contract for three more years. He had inadvertently put the event orders and harp down on the novel that had been sitting on desk for these past ten years. He looked back at the stack. “Three more years at twenty-five k a year more” He thought.
He took care of the morning chores and changed into his dress uniform. He put on a Star Brilliance CD. Every time Stella cut another one she sent it to him. Over the decade he amassed quite a collection. Each record came with a note, always saying the same thing. "Where's that bestseller?" The first CD he played was Star Brilliance’s debut album. When it was done he played her second, then the third and the fourth and so one. On the way to the interview he slipped a disc in the car's player.
As he listened to her discography he noticed subtle changes in her work. At first the pieces were simple schlock rock, the kind of commercial stuff that is heavy on lyric and light on actual music. Over time it changed, the music became more flavorful, more complex. Oh there were occasional departures into simplicity, but they offered a pleasant respite.
The Chief of Operations knew he was considering retirement and gave him a week to accept the promotion. He left headquarters and returned to Station 35 with the unsigned contract and slipped the band’s last album into the CD player.
Stella’s music pulled his attention away from the question of retirement. He was astonished at how her work had changed. More and more of the pieces were instrumental. More and more it ceased being traditional rock and roll. They had become not just songs, but nuanced musical compositions, arrangements for a larger number of instruments. She had risen to her potential. Still he was going to a farewell concert and wondered why. Had she chosen to come back EMS, since her save in the restaurant? She made it her business to keep up her certifications. She also worked out with the Department a way to keep her budget line open. She paid for it so she could hire her own replacement. But she still could say she was a New York City Fire Department Paramedic. He wondered if he would find out later.
The crowd inside the Brooklyn Academy of Music was subdued. Outside it was as rowdy as parade crowd. Star Brilliance took the stage. They all wore the typical requisite tee shirts and jeans, except Star. Her costume was the same for the past twenty years. A satin jacquard bustier with tight pants made of the same material. Star's costume always did more justice to her body that the paramedic uniform. Yet something seemed different. Maybe she's just older, he thought. She was but that wasn't it. Her hair, her hair was sitting differently almost as if it were a wig, but he blew it off.
Both audiences became silent. Star picked up a Flying V guitar and strapped on. They opened with one of their first pieces. They worked through their catalogue of songs chronologically as the songs became newer and more interesting, Star would change her axe, The Flying V, went to a Fender Telecaster, then a Strat, then an f hole Telecaster, then a Les Paul, and finally a Gretsch Country Gentleman. The warmness of that instrument has never been duplicated, half electric guitar half acoustic it has a richness that endeared it to many artists.
Periodically the captain’s ear piece would report another injury being treated. He marked down the information on a tracking form. It was all minor stuff, so he was able to enjoy the concert, at least most of it. At a quarter after nine the one of the units outside reported a large fight in the crowd. People had been shot, people had been stabbed and trampled. Captain Roberts left the auditorium to deal with the incident. Additional ambulances responded. The matter took only twenty minutes to quell, but he missed the end of the concert. The patrons filed out feeling gypped; The entire concert was an hour and a half long and there had only been two encore songs. One was completely new and wasn't rock, the other was a rendition of Alabama's The Fans. Captain Roberts looked at his watch. It was twenty to ten. The entire event was almost over. He went inside to check on the two units posted there. Immediately he knew something wasn't right. The house lights were only dimmed not run up all the way and the roadies weren't breaking down the stage. They were adding things.
"Seven-three george to command." His radio called his attention.
"Command to three-george, go ahead." He answered.
"Open your envelope, you were outside at nine-thirty." Three-seven george said.
Adrian took the envelope off the clipboard and opened it. It was an invitation. “You are cordially invited to attend the debut concert of Stella Majoris commencing at Ten O'clock in the P.M. on this date immediately follow the farewell event of Star Brilliance, featuring the later's members et al.” On the back was hand written "Get down on the floor with the rest of the audience, P.S. Where's that bestseller?"
He found a seat. Stella Majoris took the stage, there were now twenty musicians, not seven. The guitar rack now had only two guitars the Les Paul and the Country Gentleman. But there was something else. From a distance it looked like a bodyless electric guitar, but it seemed too short. There was something else very different, there were no microphones visible. This was going to be a very different band. Stella D'Amico took the stage. Gone was the rock costume and black hair. She was wearing a simple black sheath and her now shoulder length hair was blonde. "She always said she died her hair for the art." But she didn’t have time to wash out dye, it was a wig, he thought. He said to himself.
She picked up the Les Paul and slung it, adjusting it higher than before. The house lights fell. A crescendo of instruments opened the first piece. It seemed at first to be an exercise in musical theory, written as a choreographed display for each instrument's capabilities and the talent of the individual artist.
Gradually the artists merged, and music was genuinely moving. Soft horns with a light guitar and bass moving back and forth into crescendo and decrescendo. Adrian closed his eyes and enjoyed the music. It was magnificent and still he knew the best was on its way. The song ended with piano solo and without missing a beat the pianist went into a cover piece. The very first thing he heard Stella play on the harp. When the first two pieces were over Stella walked to the front of the stage an picked up a microphone from the behind a monitor.
"Thank you all for staying this evening. That was our original piece Bienvenuto and off course the Bob Seger classic Night Moves. This is going to be a short concert, only two more songs. The next is called A Paramedic in E Flat, and its dedicated to all my fellow EMTs and Paramedics who supported and helped me start this career." She walked over to the guitar rack and swapped the Les Paul for the bodyless stick. The pianist started, the horns came in, then the drums and bass, and guitars. She tucked the fat end of the stick under her chin, and drew a bow across the electric viola. This was the first time Adrian heard her play her first instrument. It was magnificent and worth waiting for and finally he realized the true talent in her. The music was pure rapture.
She picked up the mike. again. "Thank you, the final work is dedicated to one very special paramedic. He knows who he is. He was right and he was wrong and he still owes me and he knows for what. For all of you here, we'd like to invite you over to the Atrium at the Botanical Garden immediately following the show for cocktails, and yes the invite is for all the cops, medics and EMTs, its especially for you guys. Just change out of the uniforms first. We'll be there all night. The name of this piece is Writer's Lament."
Stella laid down the viola pulled a harp from her points. She cupped it with the microphone and played. The blues rift found its mark. It hit Adrian and he sat stunned and amazed. The band made its input, and
He entered his office the following Monday. His executive officer hadn't been in there all weekend. Everything was how he left it. The dress uniform hung behind the door. The calendar marked with the remaining days crossed off hung on the wall. The manuscript and the E flat Blue's Harp sat on his desk. Next to them was the promotional contract. The desk lieutenant brought in the mail. In it was Stella Majoris' debut CD. There was no note this time, just a phone number. He put the CD in the player and sat down. He held his coffee with both hands against his lips and closed his eyes. The piece she composed for him was more impressive as a studio work and it did make its impression.
He opened his eyes and looked at the harmonica, then at the manuscript, the contract and the calendar. He looked back to the contract and the manuscript. He tore up the contract, put himself on vacation for his final week and picked up the phone.

*******************

Stella was waiting for him at the cabin. She sat on the porch step playing her viola, by her feet was a bottle of shiraz and a bucket of fried chicken.
“Fried chicken and shiraz, only a musician would eat like that.” Adrian said.
“Or a medic.” She replied and they both laughed.
The two spent the next few hours eating and drinking. Stella would improvise a a piece on the horn. They talked and laughed till the chicken and wine was gone, then Stella lay back on the porch in a relaxed stretch. Holding the near empty glass on her chest. "You know boss in a lot of ways, your were my muse. Your comments about how I wasn’t doing justice to my talent sunk in. It took a while but they did sink in.” She said. “You really inspired the change.”
“Glad I could help.”
“Well I thought I could at least return the favor." Stella said. She sat up, swallowed the last bit of wine and put the glass on the deck. She walked down to her car and retrieved a box and a bag. In the box was a brand new laptop. From the bag she took a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle 20 year old bourbon. She also pulled a picture. A head shot of her set in a crystal frame. A black and white of her looking off to some distant land, her right hand against her cheek holding a Blues Harp. She put the bottle of lubrication on the table and set the picture next to it. She gave him a peck on the cheek, grabbed her keys and headed down to her car.
“Where are you going, I thought you were going to be my muse?” He asked.
“That’s why I gave you picture. I want to be an inspiration, not a distraction.” She said and without waiting for a reply got in her car and drove away.

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