The driver and the guard got out and, on cue, all the parolees got out, as well. Blaze trailed behind so that he wouldn’t be the first target that whoever was taking charge of them would see. That would give him time to dodge if need be or step sideways to avoid whatever nastiness was coming.
There were two men waiting for the van. One man, Blaze recognized as Leland Tate, whom he’d met on that one Zoom call.
In person, Leland was even more imposing than he’d been on the screen of the ancient laptop Blaze had been given to use for the purpose of the interview. Leland was tall and rugged looking, with intense eyes and an unsmiling mouth, like he was giving them all the once-over, like he had a list of criteria for each of them and each one of them had failed to muster up. Or maybe that was just the sunlight reflecting off his hard, blue eyes beneath the brim of his cowboy hat.
As for the other guy, Blaze had no idea who he was. One of Leland’s henchmen, maybe, standing hard by his boss to deliver painful backup to whatever directive Leland handed out that he’d determined wasn’t being followed fast enough.
Blaze waited, rocking back and forth in his thin sneakers while the usual greetings were exchanged between the man and the two prison staff, and the usual clipboard was handed over, assigning responsibility of them to Leland. Who, after a little speech, promptly handed over that responsibility to his henchman, Gabe Westwell.
“Thank you, Leland,” said Gabe as an almost invisible veil of authority settled around him.
There was a bit of a pause as Gabe watched Leland drive away in his shiny silver truck, then he turned to look at Blaze and his pals.
“Get your stuff and we’ll head into the mess tent for a quick meeting,” said Gabe.
All of them hurried to do so, and then they lined up, because that was what you were taught to do in prison. Do the task, whatever it was, and then line up to be counted.
Blaze grabbed his black garbage bag, which was new, at least, and stood in line and waited, watchful like a stray cat at night, realizing that other than the guard, the driver, and Gabe, there was no security officer.
Then, without much preamble, Gabe dismissed both of the prison staff, like he wasn’t at all concerned that he’d be left alone with four ex-cons without another human to assist him if things went sideways. So either he was oblivious or he knew he could overpower them all, four ex-cons with one blow.
And of course, right away, Gabe was looking them over with hard blue eyes, up and down, considering, taking the measure of each of them. As to whether he’d read all their files cover to cover, that was another issue. Blaze didn’t know so he could only gather a few ideas to respond to the inevitableSo you’re the drug dealer, eh?questions that were likely to come his way.
As with anyone he met, Blaze did his best to catch up with the transfer of power, and updated his list of appropriate topics with which to woo his new overseer, ways to entertain that would deflect any unwanted attention.
All of Blaze’s attention was now focused on Gabe, who was one of those guys who would have stood out in the prison yard, not as a victim, but as a top dog. He was the kind of guy who had hard muscles pushing at the seams of his shirt, but those muscles were from real work.
In the yard, had Blaze access to any cash, he would have paid a guy like this for protection, or even merely a glance in his direction, a gesture of inclusion that Blaze could sit with a powerful gang at lunch time, and then carry a cloak ofdo-not-toucharound his shoulders for a good length of time afterward. Not that Blaze had lacked friends inside the prison walls, but those friendships were bought with Blaze’s quick patter, flirty comments, veiled promises of commitment—all of which were gossamer thin and destined to fade at the first sign of adversity.
Not that Gabe looked like he couldn’t resist all comers when tested, because he was tough all over. His dark hair was close cropped along the sides, all work and no play, but along the top, it somehow became a messy sprawl across his forehead, like a disarming trick meant to fool his opponents into thinking he was soft.
But he wasn’t. His blue eyes, flinty and hard, looked them over much the way Leland’s had, and found them coming up short, obviously. Which was too bad, really, because he had a nice smile, which he used on them all as if to gentle the moment when the real torture would begin.
“Come on inside and have a seat, guys,” he said, then led the four men into the nearest green tent.
Gabe delivered a brief speech about something, but Blaze could hardly pay attention as he tried to absorb his surroundings as quickly as possible, feeling as though he might want to case the joint or perhaps just need a speedy exit. There came some brief talk about dinner and rotating menus, and then Gabe read off their names and pointed to each one in turn.
At which point, Blaze raised his hand, which seemed to be an issue in this place.
“Blaze,” he said.
“Excuse me?” asked Gabe, his eyebrows going up.
“My name is Blaze,” he said, smiling his best, friendliest smile. “I don’t go by Orlando. I mean, my parents thought it was funny to name their sons after actual locations, but me and my brother didn’t. That’s why he goes by Alex instead of Alexandria, and I go by Blaze. I did go by Landry when I was a kid, but then I changed it.”
“That’s a lot of names,” said Gabe, writing down a note on his clipboard with quite a serious turn to his mouth. “How many do you have?”
“As many as I need,” Blaze said, meaning it as a joke, except now, instead of being a possible maybe, it was for sure that Gabe disliked him intensely and would be putting him on the worst work duty that could ever be imagined.
Blaze stared down at his prison-issued slip-on sneakers, mentally rocking a bit back and forth to distract himself, counting down the seconds until he was yanked to his feet or sent to the laundry, all his fears reeling upward through his skin, making him hot under his arms and on the lower part of his back.
“If you prefer Blaze,” said Gabe. “Then Blaze, it is. Now, shall we go over the rules?”
Gabe’s voice was reasonable and calm. At leastnowit was calm.Soonit would be raised. Soon the greasy, yucky bad stuff would start and Blaze would have two choices: run or submit.
“I see you’ve all noticed the landline over there in the office area.” Gabe pointed, and they all looked. “There is only a table and one phone there now, but there will be a bookshelf with books, basic office supplies and that sort of thing, all of which is for your use.”
“How long can we make phone calls for and when?” asked Tom, raising his hand at the same time he asked the question.
