I’m not one of them, but hopefully by then, I’ll have been a part of the crew long enough that it shouldn’t matter.
We walk past the long row of cars toward a clearing in the woods. Up ahead, an old wooden sign marks the entrance of Pine Wood Camp, but flowering vines have wound their way up the posts, concealing half the painted letters. The rest are dull and faded. Our boots crunching fallen leaves seems like the only sound for miles.
“Kind of creepy,” Jeremy says, throwing me a smile over his shoulder.
I think it’s cool. We’ve only been outside walking a short while and already, I know this place could get into my soul if I let it. The air is crisp and cool. The smell of the trees is nearly overwhelming. Okay, forest, now you’re just showing off. There’s a reason so many cleaning products come with a “pine fresh” scent, but they don’t come close to replicating this. You can’t. There are too many undercurrents: damp earth and wild jasmine and blooming honeysuckle.
Maybe this won’t be so bad, I think just before we come upon the first signs of the old camp and my fleeting optimism flies right out the window. There’s already a ton of guys here, more than I thought would be staying during the week. Apparently, a lot of them agreed driving back and forth was a waste of gas, but that means there’s no way Jeremy and I will have our own bunkhouse. I know it was kind of delusional of me to think that was an option, but it’s the only way I could convince myself to get into his truck back in Oak Dale.
I don’t want to sleep in a room with a dozen guys I’ve never met!
Where will I change?
Where will I shower?!
Jeremy must notice my hesitation based on the fact that I’ve stopped walking forward and am now actively retreating back toward his truck.
He rushes back to wrap an arm around my shoulder and nudges me forward. “C’mon, before you throw in the towel, let’s go check out the room situation and we’ll figure out what to do from there. I swear it won’t be so bad.”
It is so bad.
Since stupid Jeremy had to have dinner with Khloe before we left Oak Dale, we don’t exactly get the cream of the crop when it comes to sleeping quarters. Fortunately, there’s still a bunkhouse with two beds available. Unfortunately, the beds are on opposite sides of the room from one another. When I drop my duffle onto my bed and turn back to look for Jeremy, I can’t even see him there are so many bunk beds in the way.
My only hope is that a very clean, very quiet man will be sleeping above me, but based on the gentleman sitting on the bunk to my right, I’m not sure that will be the case.
He’s currently putting every ounce of energy he has into hocking up a loogie before he spits it into an empty cup he drops on the floor near my feet. I nearly gag. When he’s done, he returns to his activity of choice: sharpening a rather large hunting knife. When he sees me staring, he offers up a sneer that includes what I can only describe as a breathtaking row of teeth. Truly, they are breathtaking in that the stench wafting from his mouth is making it very difficult for me to draw a breath.
“Name’s Carl,” he volunteers in a heavy Southern drawl.
I nod and turn back, pretending to look for something in my duffle bag. Oh right, it’s called hope and I find none among the oversized clothes and toilet paper rolls. “I’m Taylor.”
“You don’t look like you’ve done much construction work before.” I can feel his eyes drag over my body, assessing me.
“I haven’t,” I reply honestly.
He nods. “Well I’m around if you need anythin’. I’ve been workin’ construction since I was old enough to hold a hammer.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that,” I say, surprised by his kindness, just before someone casts a heavy shadow over me.
“Can I see your card?”
I glance up, and up some more, until I reach the face of a young bald guy frowning at me.
“My card?”
He holds up a card with a name—his name, I presume—and a number written on it.
“Yeah, does your card say bunkhouse 2? Because I already asked around and—”
“I don’t have a card,” I say, suddenly panicked. “I assumed the bunks were first come, first served.”