Page 9 of Sass in the Grass

Jovian lied, “I didn’t mean to be mean.”

“Well, it’s fine. You can help me pick out some things.”

Before he could answer with a resounding no, the Mess Hall filled up with people, all coming in large groups, talking, laughing, shoes scraping on the rough wood of the floors.

“It’s all starting,” Kathy mused as she waved to a few people. “Another year.”

“Yeah, gonna be special. I can feel it.”

“You say that every year, Mike.”

“And it is, every year.”

Chapter Four

Jovianhadn’tnoticedthelittle stage at the end of the room. A man took the two short steps up to it, and he and another man started messing with the microphone, making a squelching noise that had everyone covering their ears.

“Sorry about that,” the handsome African American man said into the mic.

“He’s always making loud noises. Don’t let him fool you,” the other man said, his pink cheeks glowing red as he kissed the man at the mic. “Just kidding, dear.”

“I’ll get you for that.”

Mike laughed and leaned over to Jovian. “Those are the hosts, the ones who manage the camp. They work with Coach Dixon, who we all call Dix or Coach Dix.”

“Is he the other one?”

“No,” he said as he glanced around the room. “I don’t see him yet.”

“He’s a fine man, Coach Dix,” Kathy said.

“Shh,” Mike hissed as the man on stage started speaking again.

“As a lot of you know, I’m Trudeau Phillips, but most call me True. The lovely man standing off to my left is Bernie Caplin, my partner in crime and other things. Welcome back to Pride Camp!”

A cheer went up and bounced off the rafters. Jovian wanted to cover his ears, but the din died quickly as they all waited to hear from their fearless leader.

“Okay, you rowdy bunch, let’s get to business. Not everyone is here yet. A bunch of folks are coming in tomorrow, but for today, I think we’re all here. Lou and Bernie are getting the work assignments ready and they should be posted in the morning on all the boards. On our first night, we’re having the cherry popping for the newbies, and for those old hats of Pride Camp, well, we have a s’more cookout by the east dock.”

Mike leaned over and whispered to Jovian, “Cherry poppers is fun. You’ll like it.”

“The name alone is vile. I’m sure I won’t.”

Mike chuckled and said, “Breathe through it.”

As his jaw dropped, Kathy and Mike cracked up as silently as they could, but Jovian was offended. He had little time for it, though, as a man walked through the door that stopped the world from spinning.

Big, brutish man, eyes scanning the room as if he was searching for someone to get out of line. And those eyes, terribly light, like two orbs of pure ice were set in his…ruggedly handsome face.

With his jaw still dropped, he watched the man walk to the other side of the room and lean on the wall, crossing his enormous arms over his even bigger chest.

“W-who the hell is that?”

Kathy followed where Jovian was looking. “Oh, that’s Coach. Coach Dixon, to be exact.”

“Cherokee Dixon. He helps run the camp, and in fact lives here year-round.”

“He lives here? Why?”

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