by Mark Lashway
“Oh, Tex, thank you so much!” Sanchez cried. “I just hope that this snake turned up by chance and that it wasn’t another attempt to kill poor Phil!”
“You’re very welcome, miss,” Cutter said softly, tipping his cowboy hat to her. “You know, when you have some time, why don’t I show you how to shoot?”
“Oh, I don’t think so, Tex. I’m scared of guns.”
“Then I guess you’ll be stuck with me bailing you out,” Cutter laughed, laying on the charm. Lesbian, huh? I’ll see about that. She’s smoking hot. I’ll see to it that she converts back to our side. Cam felt like he was about to gag.
“Yeah, as she says, this had better not be another sick plot!” Deville yelled, hoping to get the crowd back on track. Cam couldn’t argue with him there. The crowd began getting an angry feel to it.
“It wouldn’t have been us,” came a low mutter from inside the mass. “That method would’ve been far too unpredictable.”
“Certainly not!” came the indignant sputtering from someone else. “We woulda just burned his fucking tent down if it wasn’t so close to the charity booth and others!”
“Who said that?!” Deville roared, playing it up. Clay Sharper stood beside him and appeared equally outraged. There was total silence. Cam thought that it would be an appropriate time for crickets to start chirping.
“Hey, what are you gonna do with the snake?” some man asked.
“Nothing. Why?” Cutter replied.
“Oh, I was hoping to get it to cook. I’ve never had rattlesnake before. I’ve been told that it tastes like chicken.”
“Help yourself,” Cutter chuckled. Puffing up a little and putting on a show, he picked up the dead reptile and tossed it to the man.
“In one way, this experience was beneficial,” Utah proclaimed, flashing his pearly whites again. “This reminded me that we need to enact policies regarding weapons on site. You know, like banning them altogether.” Now the crowd began getting very restless.
“Is this guy for real?” Cutter mumbled, almost to himself.
“Oh, I’m sure an exception can be made for you,” Sanchez told him as she touched his arm. Maybe I can really milk this, Cutter thought.
“Of course, this would not apply to certain people, who because of their status, need to be exempted. Ones who can be trusted,” Utah added.
“Well, Phil, that is something that needs to be discussed at length with all of your GWIBE people and make sure that their voices are heard,” Duke Lando suggested, showing impeccable political instincts. When he finished talking, he began to slowly, imperceptibly, edge away to the outer fringes of the crowd.
“I think Phil is right,” Deville announced. He was every bit as survival-minded as Lando but had to keep up appearances. “This is something way past due. C’mon, people!”
“Yeah, that’s right!” Sharper chipped in. “Let’s make GWIBE safer and more orderly!”
“And Duke Lando can serve as a good example of this!” Utah cried, trying to stand firm in the face of a growing chorus of boos. Even people who hadn’t been around in the beginning now streamed in to join the crowd just because it involved Phil Utah’s crew. “He doesn’t allow any of his employees to have weapons even in their locked vehicles while they are on company property. This could serve as a template for a new policy here. Tell them, Duke….Duke?”
Lando had disappeared with nobody noticing. Utah’s face went red, an unusual thing for him. “Why, gosh, this is awkward!” The booing reached fever pitch.
“That goddamned, self-serving jerk!” Deville snarled.
“Gutless worm!” Sharper added, narrowing his eyes.
“Get the hell out of here!” Deville shouted, shoving one of the hecklers. Sharper did the same to a few others whom he calculated weren’t any threat. Now bits of garbage and empty beer containers began raining in on Utah’s crew. Very entertaining, Cam thought, very dramatic indeed. Something’s up here, though. The whole thing just feels off in some way.
“I’ll get her out of here, you get Phil!” Deville commanded Sharper in a feigned panic, and the four quickly retreated. The crowd looked reflexively toward Cam, expecting him to draw a gun, make threats and restore order. When Cam merely lifted both hands and shook his head, it was clearly a letdown to some of the crowd.
“They act like they’re disappointed,” Shauna observed.
“Now that I think about it, I probably provided them material for their war stories that they’ll fondly tell their grandchildren some day.”
As they walked away, they hadn’t gone far when Cam stopped, having spotted Dale Sassie standing near the side of a latrine, taking in the scene and shaking his head. When he looked their way, Cam motioned him to come over.
“Yeah, Cam, what’s going on?” Sassie asked.
“I need you to answer a question for me, Dale, since you’re now considered one of the leaders here: Why do you go through this crap every year? Why don’t you guys just take control of this and tell Utah & Company to hit the road? It’s not like you have a formal board of directors who are voted in or anythin’. You’ve got a tremendous advantage in numbers. Why not just end it and live in peace?”
“Cam, most of us have lives, you know. I put in some serious hours at my job. I don’t have time to organize everything for this event. The others don’t, either.”
“Yeah, but there’s a bit more to it than just that, isn’t there?”
“Look, Cam, we’re not Boy Scouts, either one of us. We both know that putting this thing on requires a fair chunk of change. Phil’s outfit donates money that helps rent demo area tents, pay for latrine service and stuff like that. In return for that money, we agree to tolerate Phil to some extent….at least until he gets too unbearable. He went to an extreme last year and so Trub went to an extreme. They cancelled each other out. No harm, no foul.”
“So that’s it?” Cam gasped, incredulous. Sassie shrugged, ignoring Cam’s reaction and Shauna’s disapproving stare. “Dale, you’re only ignorin’ the inevitable. Eventually, Phil’s fundin’ will gain them control, total control. GWIBE as you’ve known it will be finished.”
“Nobody can predict the future,” Sassie replied, clearly bored with all of this.
“Unbelievable,” Cam muttered to Shauna as they left. “You’d think that after last year, they would’ve woken up. But no, not even that….”
“People ignore the wolf until it’s right on their doorstep,” she told him.
“You know, Shauna, I think there’s more to it, at least with some people here. I’ve got to believe that some of these folks simply love the drama that Phil Utah’s crew provides.”
“You’re right, and there are others who love to complain but they never get involved in order to change things….and I’m one of them.”
“Gotta love your honesty,” he laughed.
“Enough of that. Helen was thinking that she could get us and Sonny together to play cards this afternoon, relax and go light on the drinking.”
“Sure, I could go for that. What’s goin’ on later?”
“Just before dark is the screening process for the amateur amateurs. I assume that you don’t want to see that again.”
“Actually, maybe I will. It was horrible the first time, just like drinkin’ your first beer. However, you acquire a taste for it.”
“I suppose I’ll have to accompany you,” she groaned. “You love bloodsport, don’t you?”
“Hey, if you wanted a guy who loves bein’ bored, you should’ve married someone else. I like bein’ where the action is.”
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦
Duke Lando was lying on the cot in his tent, reading a magazine and taking what he considered to be a well-deserved break before going in search of some lunch and then wandering around in order to get to know this place. He had no intention of really socializing with any of the people here, for he was strictly focused on business. These were rowdy people, he reminded himself, and he needed to be very careful. H
e could easily sense the suspicion that a lot of GWIBErs already felt toward him, not only because he was a new face but also due to his known association with Phil Utah. Their hard looks had been enough to tell him that. He knew enough about last year’s event to realize that things here could get rough in a hurry.
He heard the soft sounds of footsteps meant to be muffled coming toward his tent. Lando frowned, knowing whom they probably belonged to.
“Knock, knock!” came the amused whispering of Tom Deville.
“Come on in,” Lando ordered. Deville and Sharper entered, grinning triumphantly.
“What did you think?” Sharper asked, giving Lando a high-five although the older man had always thought that to be a kid thing.
“It was frigging spectacular,” Lando replied, nodding, “just what we needed to do. After this….mmm….job is over, you two should consider heading out to California to audition for the movies.”
“We were pleased, too,” Deville told him. “We loved your disappearing act. Man, did we curse you for that! That’ll provide some gossip.”
“Yeah, it was all for the good. Things are on track again, see?”
“Oh? So quickly? So, you know, that guy….” Deville mumbled.
“Yeah,” Lando replied, smiling. “He’s in and will get to work soon.”
“Beautiful!” Sharper laughed in a low tone. “Wow, things can change in a hurry!”
“Told you so. Always have more than one plan,” Lando reminded them.
“So, we do our normal thing, and then what?” Sharper asked.
“Ride our time out here. Maybe by the time this thing is over we’ll have our items delivered. If it takes a little longer, then no big deal. This thing will have been our smokescreen.”
Several miles away, the woman known as Betty grimaced after catching all of the conversation. So, the next one is in place. I already know who it is. I have to think about how to handle this one. Maybe I can pass on this information….ah, I have to go back now, before my absence is noticed. I’ll dress up and slip into GWIBE tonight. That should be interesting….
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦
Joey Creed sighed as he finished unpacking the last of his few things, putting his travel bag inside a little closet and looking around the small, spartan room that he’d been provided. He ran his fingers through his close-cropped hair and frowned at the shortness of it. He had to play the part of Joey Harper, however, and it was key to the job that he had to perform to repay his debt. If only he hadn’t gotten into dealing, he thought mournfully, and sold that baggie to that undercover narc. It had cost over $20,000 in legal expenses to get out of that one, money provided by his Uncle Duke after much pleading by his mother. Now it was repayment time, because Uncle Duke never did anything for free.
It was still better than prison, he reminded himself. He could tough it out for several weeks to do what he had to do, although it might not take anywhere near that long. The ground had been prepared for months as he had paid several visits to the monastery, expressing interest in entering into this life. Abbot John had sat him down each time and spoken very bluntly about the challenges of monastic life. Joey, who had been well-coached by his uncle, had emerged from these sessions looking solid enough to be received as a brother. During all of this, he’d been shown the all-important brewery, his target.
The next step in his seemingly Trappist existence would be to enter into Observership, whereby he would take up his residence, be under the guidance of the Novice Director and embrace the life for a period of six to eight weeks. During this time, he would gain experience in the aspects of the monastic life. Following that would be the Postulancy for about six months. If he demonstrated the proper desire and capacity for the life, then he would enter into the Novitiate for two years, gain his robe and become an official member of the order, although the taking of vows would be well after that. Joey shook his head in amazement at the dedication that this long road would require, then smiled at the thought that he wouldn’t have to do it. Once he accomplished the mission that Uncle Duke had set for him, he would be gone, simply disappearing one night.
He sighed at the fact that there was no TV or even radio. Though the time here would be brief, it would still feel long indeed. Flopping down on his bed, Joey stared at the ceiling and thought about his future.
-8-
“Ahhhh,” Cam moaned contentedly as he drained the last swallow of Helen’s altbier, his second one of those. He’d also had two of Sonny’s kölsch-style beers in between. Pleasantly buzzed but not drunk, he knew that now was the time to pause the drinking for a few hours, sometime during which he had to put some food into his stomach.
The four of them had just finished their last hand of pinochle, Helen and Sonny having beaten him and Shauna in a contest that had taken two hours due to the leisurely pace they had taken. It seemed like they had discussed practically everything in that time. Cam already found himself looking forward to the next time that they could do this.
Yes sir, this is civilized living, he told himself. I could certainly exist like this, and it really makes everything more enjoyable….but…. He knew what the “but” was. He hated to admit it, but the turmoil was what made this thing so exciting, and even that wasn’t quite the same this year without Trub. However, he knew that he didn’t need any more of that kind of excitement.
“Well, look who’s back!” Sonny exclaimed, jolting Cam out of his thoughts. Cam turned around enough to see Abbot John behind him, smiling and carrying a small cooler.
“It’s no surprise,” Abbot John replied with a confused smile. “I told you I was coming.”
“Yeah, I know,” Sonny chuckled. “I just can’t believe that you actually did.”
“So, is everything all set?” the abbot asked, setting down the cooler. “Will our beer….”
“Certainly!” Sonny interrupted. “Since your beer is from an actual brewery, you’re entered into the competition without having to endure the screening process that will start in only a few hours.”
“I am thankful for your help in this matter,” the monk said. “These beers are for you.”
“I help the church when I can,” Sonny modestly responded.
“Good to see you again, Abbot John,” Cam said, shaking hands.
“The same here, Cam. You look like you’re primed with more questions about the abbey,” John said, seeing Cam’s look.
“I sure am.”
“I was thinking that rather than bore the ladies with discussion of our life, why don’t I have you four come by the abbey sometime for a tour? My explanations might make more sense to you if you see things as I talk about them.”
“I’d love to!”
“Count me in,” Sonny added.
“I’ll have to see what’s going on at the time,” Shauna said. Helen nodded.
“It will be at least a few days, so it won’t be a rush,” the cleric informed them. “Now, what is this screening process that you mentioned before, Sonny? It sounds interesting.”
“Umm, well…” Sonny sputtered, taken by surprise and noticing everyone staring at him. “I don’t think it’s something you’d want….”
“Nonsense!” John cut in, smiling. “I’m here for the next several hours, so there is time to spend getting to know your festival here. I want to see it.”
“Heh heh, I don’t think you realize what you’re gettin’ into,” Cam snickered.
“In my vocation, the scales fall from one’s eyes very quickly, trust me,” John said. “In fact, a few of our monks have disturbing pasts that they’ve walked away from. Lives of drunkenness, drugs, whoring, recklessness….”
“Those are all qualifications for GWIBE!” Cam quipped, earning him a kick in a shin from Shauna. Abbot John looked grave. “Ow! Sorry….”
“No, I don’t expect to salvage any souls here,” the monk sighed, “although it would be wonderful to nab at least one. Anyway, as I mentioned the other day, my main concern is to test our new beer
against your best and get opinions.”
“People at GWIBE are always willing to give those,” Helen remarked.
“I just had an idea,” the abbot announced. “I know that you don’t require our beer to go through the screening stage, but what if I brought a bottle to it for the judges to sample after the others are done?”
“John, it’s not necessary,” Sonny groaned.
“Oh, I brought several bottles anyway, so why not? Maybe it will start people to talking about it at least.”
“As you wish,” Sonny conceded. “It’s a simple matter. You just show up with your entry, fill out a card describing what style it is, and then it goes from there.”
“Wonderful!” John said.
“Umm….Abbot John?” Cam asked.
“Yes, Cam?”
“I’m just curious about somethin’. Isn’t this a very unusual way of gettin’ your beer introduced? I mean, wouldn’t the standard method be to….”
“You’re indeed right, Cam,” the abbot talked over him, “but this isn’t a standard situation, I’m afraid. Due to….mmm….ethical concerns with some people who showed interest in our beer, we’ll take a less formal route and keep total control of our product. I can say no more about this matter.”
“The thing you have to consider is that the screening judges aren’t professionals,” Shauna told the monk. “They’re sort of like hanging judges. And the….”
“The event is a bit….rough?” John chuckled. “Yes, I’ve heard some things already. People, I have been in an ugly scene or two in my time.”
“Well, don’t say we didn’t warn you!” Helen mumbled, shaking her head.
“I don’t know about the rest of you,” Cam said, getting up out of his chair, “but I’m gonna get somethin’ to eat before it all starts. Anyone else interested?”
“Nah,” Sonny replied. “I had a very big lunch.”
“The same here,” Helen said.