Page 29 of First Chance

There’s a pep in my step as I skip down to the bunkhouse in my new cute ankle boots. As I get closer, I can smell the wood burning and see the smoke rising around the back.

When I round the corner, all of the chatter hushes andeveryone looks at me. “Our pool champ is back,” Hayes breaks the silence, pulling a chair near the fire and offering it to me.

There’s a moment of awkward energy until the conversation picks back up, and I’m left wondering why.

“Hey, Boss! I thought you were taking off tonight?” Someone says suddenly. Lochlan appears around the corner of the barn like a cloud of smoke, silently blending into the night.

“Decided to stay back,” he says, pointedly, cutting a look at Frank. He glances at me and Hayes next to me, a silent conversation happening between them while everyone else continues with their own.

“I thought you didn’t have fun?” I ask him once he sits down a few feet away on the other side of Hayes.

“He doesn’t. He leaves to take care of business,” Hayes says, smirking at his friend. Lochlan shakes his head and ignores him. Once again, leaving me to interpret some cryptic social exchange.

Women aren’t like this. They are usually over-sharers even with strangers. Prying information from anyone here is painful. I’m still trying to get all of their first and last names straight because they act like there’s some mysterious code name they have to follow.

“Is this like our first big team bonding?” Ryker asks, earning a few groans of annoyance.

“No.”

“Well, come on, now. We hardly know our girl,” Frank says, setting a beer down on the arm of my chair without asking if I want one.

“Not your girl,” Lochlan growls.

“It’s okay, I can tell them a little bit. I’m going to drag you all around all summer to network, so we might as well be friendly,” I say directly to Lochlan, and he grits his teeth subtly but ignores me.

“My name is JoAnna Montgomery, Jo for short, because only people who don’t really know me call me by my full name. I’m 24 years old, and studying for my Master’s in Biomedical Engineering with an interest in prosthetics. My favorite food is ice cream. I love watching movies. I have a collection of ten DVDs that I cherish and take everywhere.”

“Damn. She’s smart and pretty,” Ryker says. Curtis kicks the leg of his chair in warning as if he had said something offensive.

I don’t mind, I’ve had to work hard for both titles to be true.

“They call me Spock because I sold fraudulent Star Wars memorabilia to a museum. A hundred grand worth,” he admits, and a couple of people laugh. “I don’t even like sci-fi movies, so I didn’t realize the nickname doesn’t make sense until it had already stuck.”

“I’m Rain because they caught me in a strip club throwing around fake currency. Making it rain,” he adds proudly.

Okay… This has turned into a nickname and rap sheet show-and-tell, but they’re being open, and I don’t want to stop their momentum.

In the corner of my eye, I see Lochlan dig around in a cooler and pull out a white seltzer can. He hands it to Hayes, who puts it on my chair after removing the beer can that’s still sitting unopened.

“I’m good at stealing cars,” Ryker says when it’s his turn.

“Not good enough, apparently,” Arizona jabs. “I embezzledmoney. And, I’m from Arizona.” He makes a motion like ‘hence the nickname’.

I open the seltzer at the same time Lochlan opens the beer he just swapped me.

“They call me Hawk because I was the lookout during a bank robbery… But, failed at it.” The next guy says, making everyone laugh again.

“My name is Jordan, my friends call me Jordy. I got mixed up selling drugs, but I’m four years sober this summer,” he admits proudly.

Rain claps him on the shoulder, and Jordy blushes, making me smile hard. I’m so proud of these people that I hardly know.

“Curtis?” Jordy deflects the attention, passing the imaginary speaking stick.

“Um, I’m from here in Langston. I never went to prison, but I went AWOL to attend my grandmother’s funeral and got involved with a bad crowd. They got me hooked on fentanyl and strapped a bomb to me.” He laughs humorously like a man who has coped with his trauma, but my jaw drops.

Poor Curtis.

“My buddy Jesse struck a deal with the military after he found out about this place. Once I got out of rehab, I committed to five years here instead of getting a dishonorable discharge and jail time. Still got these as evidence of what happened.” He holds up his arms to show his scars before quickly covering them again with his sleeves.

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