“So?” asked Tom as he rifled through his new things, like a kid on Christmas morning who simply didn’t care where everything had come from or, even, what it was. That it had been given to him was joy enough.
“My pop used to run counterfeit clothes, everything from Carhartt to Prada. Expensive stuff, if it’s real.”
“You think these are real?” Tom held up one of the boots and stroked it with long fingers.
“Yes,” said Blaze, quite sure of what he was looking at. “That’s a Carhartt denim jacket, too. Worth over a hundred bucks.” He traced the soft collar and then the bit of lining peeking out.
Then he and Tom looked at each other and Blaze knew that they both knew what the other one was thinking, and that neither one could help it. The boots and the jacket alone could be sold to buy a Greyhound ticket to simply anywhere, which meant they could be on their way before the dinner bell rang with nobody, not even Gabe, having any idea which direction they’d headed.
But that was stupid. Where would they be able to sell the goods? The town they’d passed through had been quite small, and he had no idea where the nearest Greyhound bus station was. Not to mention, if they left the valley without permission, they’d be considered AWOL and, at that point, it would be a bitch kitty to set up a new parole. So he nixed the point before he even voiced it aloud and put the shoebox back on the bed, and opened the first cardboard box all the way.
It contained so many things, all new, that he felt a little dizzy. Two pairs of blue jeans, Levi brand. A blue bandana, a leather belt, a pair of leather gloves. And three soft shirts with sleek white buttons up the front, one white, one dark blue, one a soft blue chambray.
The second box held five pairs of socks, five pairs of tighty-whities, a packet of v-neck t-shirts—all made of thick, sturdy cotton. A shaving kit. Shampoo and conditioner, three bars of Ivory soap, a small first-aid kit, a big bottle of sunscreen, and a bottle of bug spray. The promised flashlight and a pack of batteries, and other stuff besides.
Tucked along the side of the second box was a typed note. The only part of the note that had been personalized was the bit where his name had been written on a line in blue ink. The note read:
Dear Orlando Butterworth,
Welcome to the Farthingdale Valley New Start Program. In this box is pretty much everything you’ll need to get started. Later this week, your team lead will bring you to the ranch store for a straw cowboy hat.
Wyoming Correctional didn’t include your head measurement, so I couldn’t get you one in advance. You’ll also get to pick out your own cowboy boots.
If anything doesn’t fit, check with your team lead as soon as you can. During your stay with us, should you need anything, or run out of something, please check with your team lead.
All the best,
Maddy Greenway
Blaze hefted the baggie of shower tokens in his hand. His skin itched with the thought of standing beneath the stream of water that, according to the evidence he’d seen with his own eyes, might not be lukewarm. Then he said to Tom, “Let’s go take a shower. I’ll lead the way in case of snakes.”
Tom nodded vigorously and in tandem they gathered what they thought they’d need and, leaving the tent wide open, for there was nobody to steal anything, they hiked through the grasses to the shower building.
Tom picked the shower at the furthest end, put a token in the little slot in the little metal box on the metal counter above the row of porcelain sinks, then lifted the lid, peeking inside.
“It’s not even locked,” he said, scoffing.
“Who’s going to steal it?” asked Blaze. He’d picked the first shower building in the row, and was about to strip to his bare skin in front of Tom, like he would have in prison because after the first few days you got used to being naked around guys you didn’t know, and this was just another day of that, when he remembered that each shower cabin had its own private little dressing room. “It’s not worth anything.”
“This is crazy.” Tom started stripping, but then, half-naked, well-muscled, lean, he paused as if he, too, remembered he had his own private changing room. He looked at Blaze as calmly as if they were both fully used to dressing and undressing in private and were merely socializing after Sunday morning church. “And it’s all going to turn to hell the second Gabe wants it to.”
“Yeah, it’s crazy,” said Blaze, doing his best to be amiable. But maybe it wasn’t crazy? Maybe this was just how things were going to be? Kind of nice, and straightforward, unlike prison life, where secrets hid and codes had to be unraveled.
Blaze put his wooden token in the slot of the little metal box, too, then stepped into his changing area, securing the slatted wooden door behind him. He undressed quickly, shedding his clothes like an unwanted skin. Then he turned on the shower and stepped into the spray, which was warm, turning to warmer still, sweet Jesus, even in the wilderness. And it was soft, like a never-ending caress.
He washed his hair and soaped himself all over, still hurrying, despite knowing that he could take up to half an hour. When he was done, he turned off the shower, and stepped into the little dressing area, and then laughed, a hard bark.
“What’s up?” asked Tom. The sound of his shower went silent.
“No towels,” said Blaze, smirking. In prison, you never had a washcloth, but you did have a medium sized, rather thin towel to dry off with. Here, there should have been fluffy towels for after, maybe even some lotion, in keeping with the high-end gear that had been given to them. “They weren’t in the boxes, so I thought they’d be here. That’s a fuckup, for sure.”
But he was able to dry off, mostly, with his old, dirty, foul-smelling clothes, and managed to get dressed quickly in his new clothes so that as he was stomping into his too large boots, Tom didn’t have to wait long.
Then together, they tromped through the woods to leave their old prison clothes and gear in the tent. Then, as the dinner bell rang, a high-sounding, hearty clanging, he shook his still-damp hair, and followed Tom, suddenly now not afraid of snakes, on account he wore the armor of his brand new boots, thick jeans, and excellent quality chambray shirt, through the woods toward the mess tent.
Chapter5
Gabe
