Bede had refused him and very carefully explained that Kell should never let on that he was a virgin. That Kell was at risk in a setting like a prison. Now, the suggestion was, perhaps, that Kell might be at risk in the valley.
It didn’t feel that way to Kell, because the valley just wasn’t like that.
Sure, Wayne was an ass, but he wasn’t an aggressive, constantly asshole-ish kind of guy. Just sometimes. Nobody else was a jerk or an ass. And Marston certainly wasn’t.
“He’s nice,” said Kell now, gripping the receiver more tightly. “I mean, everybody is. It’s like a dream here, really. And Marston. Well—” He paused, not knowing how to put it into words, what would happen, seem to happen, every time they encountered each other.
“You like him?” asked Bede. “Does he want to be your protector or something?”
In Bede’s mind, someone like Kell would need a protector, and Bede had certainly filled that role inside of Wyoming Correctional.
“I don’t know,” said Kell. “He looks out for me. Even makes sure I get fresh milk all the time. Really good milk, Bede. Not that powdered milk shit.” He paused again, and listened to Bede breathe, the clamor of an impending fight in the background because somebody wanted to use the phone and wasn’t getting a chance. “Nobody needs a protector here, but if I did, he’d be the one.”
Kell blinked, startled that he’d said it out loud, voicing the thought, making it take shape, making it real.
“Not that it’d go beyond that,” said Kell, though he really had no experience in anything like this.
Coming out to his parents two years ago had been like stepping through a doorway into a vast, empty space where anything was possible and nothing was certain.
The two years that had followed had been a race to escape the fate that pursued him, which was enough days in a shitty conversion camp until he forgot he’d even thought he was gay.
There’d never been any time to even kiss a boy, or think about kissing one, or how he’d feel when he finally did. He’d been on the run so long and so hard it was as if, at that point, coming to a shrieking halt, he’d forgotten that part of himself. Hearts and flowers and love and desire.
“Not that this is the place for that,” he said, doing his best to force his thoughts to a shuddering halt.
“You never know,” said Bede.
“How’s your new cellie?” asked Kell, ramming the conversation right back to Bede.
“Craig,” said Bede with a snort. “Have you ever heard a more white collar name in your life?”
“No,” said Kell with a little laugh. “What he’d do?”
“Some scheme to siphon gas at night from the gas station he worked at. He’s an idiot because those fuckin’ things are regulated.”
“Moron.”
“You got that right,” said Bede. “I gotta go, but about your guy.”
“Yeah?”
“Play it close until you know more. Don’t pull your pants down until you know for sure.”
“We’re not doing that,” said Kell, protesting, his voice rising. “I’m not pulling my pants down and I’m sure there’s some kind of rule against it.”
“Rules schmules,” said Bede with some certainty. “Protect yourself first. That’s all I’m saying.”
Then, before Kell could say anything else, there was a click and Bede was gone.
Going back to his tent, Kell changed from his cowboy boots into his regular work boots and placed his hat on the top of his little shelf. By the time he finished putzing around and returned to the mess tent, the line for the buffet was already forming.
The smells of garlic and tomato wafted through the air. When Kell got up to the front of the line, he saw that there were three small pizza ovens and that the pizza, far from being frozen, was freshly made, flame-baked pizza, all different kinds.
His mouth watered as he helped himself to pepperoni, sausage and mushroom, and one with slices of tomato on it.
“That’s my favorite,” said a voice over his shoulder.
Kell turned and looked up at Marston, who was patiently waiting while Kell made a pig of himself.
