On the other side of the Ranchette’s Stop ’n Go was where the county landfill was located.
Galen parked, and was barely out of the driver’s seat before his team was up and at it, pulling black plastic bags out of the truck bed and tossing them on the pile with the other black plastic bags. With some glee, Toby and Owen sometimes threw the bags at each other, and Bede snorted with a low laugh as he picked up the fallen bags and shoved them on the pile.
Loose knapweed flew, prickly and dusty, but they made short work of the task, and were soon sweating beneath the blazing sun. And it did blaze, coming down as though ejected from a flaming torch.
There were no trees near the landfill, and again, no breeze, but his team smiled as they piled into the truck, wiping sweat manfully from their foreheads with the backs of their arms before placing their hats on their heads again. Almost in unison, as if they’d practiced for hours.
And then Toby leaned forward, grabbing Galen’s headrest to pull himself up with, and in the rearview mirror, Galen could see the hopeful look in his eyes.
“And now coffee,” he said, grinning as a whoop of joy bounced off the inside of the truck’s cab.
Galen grinned in response, a grin he turned to share with Bede, and in that moment it felt so natural, he didn’t even question it. Bede grinned back at the prospect of special coffee, or maybe at the joy of the moment, shared between the two of them.
There wasn’t a Starbucks anywhere near where they were, but there was a Caribou Coffee at the Ranchette’s, so, after paying the fee in the metal slot in the paybox at the landfill, which was right before the cattle guard that served as a gate, that was where Galen headed.
“We’re on our best manners inside, right?” asked Galen as he parked the car and turned off the engine.
As they got out of the truck, he realized that they were all a bit grubby, and who knew whether or when a fight might break out.
But, somehow, while his team huddled in front of the glass case full of baked goods, looking up at the menu board, giggling like school kids on an impromptu outing, nothing bad happened.
And, after various mochas and one honey lavender espresso shaker were ordered, the latter by Bede, they all hurried to take sips of their drinks before sitting down at a round table in the corner of the very lovely and air-conditioned coffee shop.
Bede groaned, his hands cupped around his tall glass, almost shuddering as he swallowed.
Galen stifled the urge to ask Bede how long it had been, a not very good sexual innuendo. Besides, he knew how long it had been.
He’d read all of their files, and knew how long they’d been behind bars, and how long it’d been since any of them had done anything like what they were doing, sitting in a coffee shop to drink their overpriced, fancy, and very good coffees. Just like regular folks.
This, then, was part of the normalization process the training in Torrington had gone on about.Do normal things with them and they will become normalized to the outside world.
At the time, Galen hadn’t quite understood what the trainer had been getting at. But, now, seeing the evidence in front of him, how the shoulders of all three of his men relaxed, he finally understood. And felt quite pleased to see the predicted changes taking place right before his very eyes.
“It’s so fuckin’ hot out there,” said Toby, but when Galen gestured over his shoulder at the small table with a mom and her two young kids, his eyes widened. “Oh, sorry. It’s really hot out there.”
With a nod of approval at Toby, Galen drank his own white chocolate mocha, which was almost too sweet, but made a nice treat.
Across from him, Bede looked like he was about to make love to his espresso.
Galen stifled the urge to say something about it because, really, he needed to drag his mind away from the images that conjured up. Bede on his cot in his tent, making love to a nameless someone. With kisses slow and sweet, those dark eyes half-lidded.
“You sure do love those,” said Galen.
“Coffee in prison is shit,” said Bede, looking up. He took a long sip of his coffee and seemed to sigh, as if the caffeine had just hit his bloodstream like a bullet. “Some guys had privileges. They had coffee makers in their cells. I was not one of thosepeople, so every time I drank that coffee in the dining hall, a little bit of me died inside.”
He smiled, as if to show he was joking, even if Galen could see the truth of it in his eyes.
“This is actually too sweet for me,” said Galen, lifting his paper cup, brushing his thumb through a smear of dried whipped cream. “I like?—”
He paused, realizing that not only Bede was listening quite intently, but Toby and Owen were, as well. All three of his team were leaning forward, as if what he was about to say was more interesting than anything they’d heard in days. Perhaps even years.
Which was when he remembered from his training that sharing bits of your life, your experiences, with your team, was just as important as listening to your team. So he soldiered on, even though it felt a bit strange to be the center of attention.
“I like coffee served in a diner mug. You know, those thick white china mugs?” All three of them nodded, their eyes going wide. “Somehow, when you stir in sugar from those glass canisters and stir in the half-n-half from those little plastic cups, the coffee tastes perfect. It tastes even better when someone comes around and gives you a warm up.”
With a smile and a half-defensive laugh, Galen took a slug of the overly sweet white chocolate mocha, and added, “Back when I lived on the family farm, my dad and I tried to get a couple of those mugs but short of ordering them by the case?—”
“Or stealing,” added Toby helpfully.
