There was no security on the tent, which anywhere else would invite thieves. But the lack of it indicated the lack ofneedfor it. Like everybody was trustworthy or some shit. They probably were.
Chapter 4
Bede
As Bede stepped from the wooden platform into his tent, he moved from bright sunshine into a cool, green-tinted cave.
There were two cots made up with clean sheets, clean blankets, and fluffy pillows. The smell of pine trees wafted on sun-warmed air through the open flap at the far end of the tent.
From somewhere came the sound of birdsong and all of it was such a far cry from prison accommodations that he stood there for a long, hard minute, just soaking it in.
On top of one of the cots was a series of boxes that Bede already knew contained blue jeans and snap button shirts and plastic wrapped packages of underwear and socks, soap, brand-name shampoo—anything he might need. All of which was a bribe for good behavior.
He should unpack rather than stare like some sort of newbie who had no idea what was going on, because he did, he sure did. He was being given the carrot before the stick.
Sure, he’d have new everything, and then the shit would come down. That would be the price for he would pay for being a drug dealer amidst this paradise. He would be given hard work. Thehardest?—
He caught himself short from his mental tirade when he saw a large box which, by the flat, long shape, could only contain a pair of boots.
Sitting down on one cot, he reached for the box and opened it as he pulled it onto his lap. Yes, the box contained new work boots, just like the kind Marston and Kell and Galen had been wearing.
Bede ran his fingers over the laces, almost shivering at the tough softness of the yellow suede.
These boots would have come in handy, so handy, in prison. They would have been useful for a kick to the head or groin, useful for stomping fingers.
But then, had he owned a pair such as this, he would have been shanked within twenty-four hours of getting them, and the boots taken from him. Better that the boots had waited for him for five years, so he could enjoy them now.
A rustle outside the tent made him look up to see Kell come onto the platform. Behind him was another guy, slightly older, paunchy, red-faced, and scowling.
“You’re not unpacked,” said Kell, his cheery voice making it a greeting rather than a criticism. “Dinner’s soon, and you don’t want to miss it.”
It took him a moment to realize that he’d been sitting there mooning over new boots for a good long while. Galen had given him a list of things to do, one of which had been a shower, only now it was too late.
Bede could have explained to Kell that he was a bit overwhelmed, but the experience of his criminal life and his years behind bars had taught him the folly of that. Never give yourself away. Never admit vulnerability.
“Sure thing,” he said, putting the boots to the side, like they didn’t matter to him at all. Like he wasn’t already in love with them.
“This is Wayne,” said Kell, waving to the angry-looking guy standing next to him. “He’s my tent mate.”
“Hi,” said Bede, not waving back. Not getting up.
“How come you got your own tent?” Wayne asked, strident, loud, like Bede was miles away and needed to be shouted at. “How come?”
“Just got assigned it.”
Bede didn’t raise his voice to match Wayne’s. No point. In the prison yard, every head would have turned to Wayne, assessing him, with Wayne coming up short. Looking away again, calculating how long till lights out, when Wayne could get his comeuppance.
“Well, it’s not fair. I want my own tent.” Wayne’s eyes were narrow, his mouth in a scowl. Any minute and he was going to start shouting even louder. “How come I always got to share?”
Bede looked at Kell. Saw the small shrug, like the whole thing was out of control and there was nothing Kell could do about it. Wayne was a whiner, pure and simple.
How Kell had managed to live with him was a mystery. Well, Kell was adaptable. He’d managed thus far. Didn’t mean he had to keep on putting up with it.
“I’ll switch with you.” Bede dipped his head, scratching behind his ear to show just how much it didn’t matter to him. He could have gotten into a tussle with Wayne, just to blow off some steam, but perhaps it was too soon, and besides, this was the smarter move. “You can move your stuff in here now. Before dinner.”
“I don’t want to be so far out in the woods.” Wayne pouted like he was a seven-year-old boy, rather than a fully grown man. “Kell can move in here with you.”
The idea appealed to Bede. Moving into a tent where someone like Wayne had lived, shuffling around in his leavings,was an unhappy prospect. Having Kell join him in a bright, new, never-lived-in tent, had a brand new feeling to it.
