Chapter 17
Bede
Sweating like he was trapped in hell’s fiery inferno, Bede leaned on the end of his shovel and watched Gabe and Galen converse in boss-speak.
Were they talking about him? He didn’t know. He was close enough to see their expressions, but too far away to hear what they were saying.
Maybe Galen was complaining that Bede had been smoking pot and had been relaxed enough to almost kiss his boss. Which was true.
And, standing behind the mess tent in that haze-induced state, it had seemed to Bede as if Galen almost welcomed it, because he’d risen up on his toes, an expectant expression in his lovely gray eyes.
Bede had no idea who the hell Beck was or how he fit into the valley, or even how he’d snuck an illegal substance into the valley.
Other than a sound scolding that would have done a governess proud, however, Galen didn’t seem to bother himself much about it. And when Beck went off, duffle in hand, sayingSparks flew, man, Galen had blushed hard, then turned hisattention on Bede, feathers flying as he explained the dangers of smoking and forest fires.
Galen’s ire only made him prettier. Just about irresistible, but when Galen had departed to go back to movie night, all of the air seemed to leave Bede’s body.
He had no right to even dream of getting together with someone like that. Couldn’t imagine that Galen wouldn’t tell someone what he knew about Bede. All his secrets.
Later, in the dark, in his pot-hazed state, looking down at his boots once more, he had felt the ghost of Winston all around him.
He’d really wanted to get rid of those boots, and he’d attempted to do so. Had gone down to the lake, and taken off the boots.
Sitting on his ass, feet in the grass, absorbing the earth’s energy, he stared at the lake and imagined those depths and let the marijuana rocket through him, fading, then intensifying with every heartbeat.
He must have sat there for ages, because just as it was getting dark, Galen came up to him and demanded to know what the hell was going on.
Bede would have risen to the challenge, but as he got to his feet, Galen didn’t back down, and it was either cry or laugh himself sick, but he was too tired for either.
When Galen had learned what Bede meant to do with the boots, he given Bede a piece of his mind. Coming right up to Bede, chest thrust out, his eyes blazing.
In fact, Galen was less afraid of Bede than anyone he’d ever met.
His cronies had always quivered in fear that they’d piss him off. The prison guards had, for the most part, not messed with him.
Even Kell had been leery, at least at the beginning.
But Galen? He looked ready to come at Bede with everything he had, and if that didn’t make Bede fall for him all the more, he didn’t know what would.
In the end, he’d done what Galen told him to do, which was to put his boots back on and go back to his tent.
Once there, as Kell watched, he’d silently wiped them down, and now those boots would be ready for the next time he wanted to wear them. After a quick shower, he’d flopped on top of his cot and basically passed out.
Now, the next morning, it was hot, but to his surprise, Galen dismissed them early, and led the way to an early lunch.
In the mess tent, both the misters and fans were going, making the mess tent a blissful oasis from the heat.
Standing in the line for the buffet, Bede was pleased, if a little surprised, to see Beck already sitting at one of the long tables.
He was digging into his cheeseburger and fries, and Bede grabbed his food and made a beeline to sit across from Beck. Galen sat next to him, with Toby and Owen bringing up the edges.
After a silent minute as they all began to eat, Bede wiped his mouth with his napkin, and said, “I’m sorry, Beck, but I don’t know who you are. You’re not a team lead and you’re not one of the parolees, so?—”
“I’m neither,” said Beck, nonchalant, as he dipped a fry in the puddle of ketchup on his plate. “I’m Jonah’s best friend and we made an arrangement for me to come up on the weekends. Which I do. Most weekends.”
“Where do you stay?” asked Bede. Bede knew that Jonah was one of the parolees, but he’d not interacted with him much.
“Tent number ten.” Beck made a gesture with his hand, shaping it like a pistol, shot it, and then blew away a cloud of imaginary smoke. “Closest to the facilities.”
