Page 55 of The Boy from Half Moon

Alec seemed less than appreciative of my sense of humor. I stepped around him, lifting my briefcase as I went, placing it behind my desk on the credenza. Alec stood and stepped aside as I pulled my chair out and sat down behind my desk. I reached for the notepad and flipped it over, the action not escaping his eyes as he studied me.

“I think I’ll pass on that dinner invitation, after all,” he said.

“Suit yourself,” I replied, leaning back and stretching my arms over my head. “But thank you for asking. That’s a shame because looked forward to meeting your friends.”

Alec walked to the door, closing it before exiting, and turned back to me. “Say what you will, Tate, but you liked the way I sucked your cock the other night,” he said, calm as a cucumber. A serial-killer cucumber, but calm as fuck for sure. His tone sent shivers down my spine, and a warning to my brain.

“Enjoy the rest of your day, Alec.”

The look on his face was blank, but the message couldn’t be clearer. He would not go away easily. I might have a serious problem on my hands.

I ripped the top sheet of paper that had Luke’s name written on it from the notepad and stared at an open door Alec had just walked out of. Thinking about his intrusion only added resentment to an already shitty morning. My hand squeezed the yellow sheet of paper into a ball. Crushing, rolling, crushing, rolling. Over and over, tighter and tighter, until my hand hurt.

CHAPTER THIRTY: Luke

Sweat dripped from my brow even though I was standing in the shade under the eaves of one of our outbuildings that stored tools and equipment. Late June in Central Oregon was when the temperatures truly began rising. Summers in Madras are hot and dry, and the sun beats down mercilessly for months. But high temperatures were good for our community’s crops. The ranch had already harvested a second crop of hay for the year, and a third and fourth would also be possible with irrigation.

Setting up the needed irrigation pipes and the massive sprinklers that dotted the ranch was one of my jobs. If you’ve ever flown over farmland, you’ve probably seen the unique designs where irrigated land grows crops. The huge circles and other geometric shapes dot Central and Eastern Oregon because of the ability to irrigate normally barren and parched land.

I was part of an eight-man crew who assembled, then dismantled, and then once again, moved and reassembled the pipes as needed throughout late spring and all of summer. Moving from field to field was back-breaking work for a crew of eight men, but I didn’t mind the job.

The equipment changeovers took most of the week, which meant I would be absent from working at the furniture store, and nowhere near Bend, the neighboring town where Tate lived. Any chance of seeing him if he stopped by the store would be impossible, and the reality gnawed at my insides. I was desperate to be near him.

After he’d been in with food, and we enjoyed a great evening of hanging out, I was heartsick. He was on my mind constantly, and no matter what I did, or how much I tried to take my mind off him, nothing worked. I had this overwhelming feeling of despair. The more days that went by, the more I experienced an irrational fear that he’d forget about me.

The thought that he might think of me as some poor kid stuck in the country haunted me. Why would he be interested in a man like me? I couldn’t just call him up and ask him to hang out with me. There was no way I could take him on a date either. Where would we go? But more importantly, how would I pay for my share, let alone for his share, too?

The truth of the matter was that I had no money. We weren’t paid a salary for our work in the community’s businesses. Our efforts were for the greater good of all our members, and that meant all proceeds went into one pot. We received the basics of what each family needed for clothing, housing, and medical care. All food was served in a shared cafeteria-style setting and in-between snacks were scarce.

Our clothing was provided to us as a required uniform. The women had their simple dresses; the two designs were identical and worn from toddler age until death. The men were given identical styles of denim jeans and two types of shirts. For winter months, a long-sleeved white button-down, and for the warmer months, the same white button-down, but short-sleeved. The boys and men were also required to wear simple white boxers, referred to as holy undergarments.

Being around Tate made my feelings of inadequacy worse. Even though I liked him so much, I felt less than. There was nothing he did or said to make me feel that way, but I found I compared myself to him, with me obviously coming up short in my mind.

Tate always looked sharp. In fact, I don’t think I’d ever seen him in the same clothes twice. He possessed a style that I’d seen in men’s magazines, and on businessmen who occasionally came into the bakery. But not even one of those men had his flair for looking like a banker, yet being so approachable and kind.

The more I let my mind focus on what I didn’t have, the harder it became for me to imagine him wanting to court a man like me. He offered a world I could only dream about, but his world wasn’t what I desired. What I craved was to be loved by him, while at the same time, having not a single clue how any of that worked.

I stepped into the harsh sun and traipsed to the barn to get some grease for the giant axles of the irrigation machines, my spirit about as low as it could be. Nearly there, I spotted Franklin pulling through the gate in his Mercedes about three hundred yards down the road. I hurried to the barn and prayed he hadn’t seen me.

I ran to the back in case the huge front doors of the barn were open. The backdoor was a normal house size and easy to slip through. Plus, my hiding was easier if I could duck behind the barn in time instead of trying to sprint around to the front where I’d be in clear view.

I noticed the front door of the barn was closed once I was inside. My eyesight slowly adjusted to the dimness inside the giant building. My attempt at avoiding Franklin had managed one thing for sure: take my mind off Tate for once. The only sound in the barn was my heavy breathing after quickly disappearing into it. The faintness of light, the quiet… everything brought out the evil memories associated with this structure.

Listening carefully, I thought I heard his car rumble by as it headed up to his office. My shoulders relaxed and I let out a sigh of relief. With no one inside, and me having to pee, I stepped to a darkened corner and unzipped. Finally, my nerves gave way to a calmer feeling after releasing the long-held pee.

As soon as I zipped up my jeans and turned toward the supply shelves, the front door slid open about three feet and Franklin stepped inside, reaching behind him to shut the door he’d just come through. I was in a dark corner and knew his eyes hadn’t adjusted yet, so I stepped backward slowly as I sought further obscurity.

He stood silently, waiting for his vision to adjust to the faintness of light, his head turning as he scanned the spacious interior. He knew I could be anywhere inside, but I also thought he wasn’t sure I had actually entered the barn. One more step back and I would be completely hidden by darkness.

Every muscle in my body tensed as I bent slightly at the knees, keeping myself agile while I crept backward. I didn’t think he saw me, so the further I was able to move toward the wall, the more the darkness swallowed me. With a bright-white shirt on, it was important not to catch a sliver of sunlight that shot through small holes in the roof overhead.

“One more step,” I breathed, barely a whisper escaping my mouth.

I lifted my left foot and moved it backward above the dirt floor, maybe an inch off the ground, being very careful with where I stepped next. Franklin remained still, listening for signs. He had no idea I was hidden in plain view, mere feet away. He disgusted me with his heavy breathing and sloppy size. His body was outlined in the dim light like a fat side of beef.

I hope you die. Ever so slowly, I tapped the toe of my boot on the dirt before setting it down behind me. I needed to be sure the space was clear before I committed to taking the final step to the wall, where I could crouch down, melting into the shadows, and maintain my silence. My foot moved gently and then I felt resistance. I was there. One more step. Just one more tiny step. Set your foot down and…

The noise was deafening when I stepped on a rake; hitting me square on the back of the head before falling against a galvanized garbage bin to my right. I froze.

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