What did you call a week where you’d flunked out of college again, and then someone almost killed you while you were rappelling down the side of a cliff?
Shitty.
And that was exactly the week Baby had had.
So here he was, avoiding all his friends and family. Avoiding anyone who might be concerned that he was struggling with his near brush with death during the Wild Wyoming Adventure Race a few days ago.
Nearly plummeting to his death had, in fact, been a little scary. But for the grace of God and a bad case of wilderness diarrhea, there might have been a Baby-shaped splatter on the bottom of a ravine.
It had really been Riley Harrison’s—the famous Phoenix—reflexes that had saved Baby. Rightfully so, since the person who’d tampered with the rappelling equipment had been trying to kill Riley. But still, too close of a call for anybody’s liking.
Regardless of being caught between Riley and a psychopath, Baby had actually enjoyed himself during the race. Pushing limits was what WAR—or the Wild Wyoming Adventure Race—was all about. Basic survival, mental toughness, and physical abilities.
And it meant being in the wilderness he loved and had grown up in. No damned paperwork or emails or failing college courses hanging over his head out there.
He’d take killers any day over stacks of correspondence back in real life.
But unfortunately, all that stuff had been waiting for him this morning when he’d gotten back. He’d ignored most of it. It could wait until he was in a better frame of mind.
But the email from his new literature professor wasn’t one he could toss without reading, so he’d forced himself to get through it. It had taken him a shit ton of time to figure out how to phrase everything in his first email to her, asking for a chance to redo some of the assignments he’d messed up with Mr. Lewis.
Her response included a lot of unnecessary words, but he’d finally figured out the gist: No.
She didn’t care that Mr. Lewis had been a terrible instructor who’d rarely been available for questions and communicated exclusively via email, which hadn’t helped Baby at all.
Taking an online course in literature—one of the three classes he needed to pass in order to finish his bachelor’s degree—had been a last-ditch effort. He’d tried taking the course traditionally a few semesters ago, but he’d failed then too.
Failed. Something that happened each of the three times he’d tried to take the required literature class. Failed English 101 twice.
He’d made it through his math and science classes with no problems. Physics? Like second nature to him. His instructor had said Baby could’ve taught the class.
But courses based solely on reading and writing? They currently brought his college-degree plans to a screeching halt.
What were you thinking, Pop? Why the hell did you have to make everything so complicated?
But there were no answers from the dead garage owner.
Between the race that had almost killed him and the college classes that definitely would, Baby wasn’t interested in drinking and celebrating with his Oak Creek friends tonight.
Everyone would be at the Eagle’s Nest and expected Baby to be there to join in the fun. But not tonight.
Tonight, with his failures hanging all over him, he couldn’t stand to be around the people who knew him best—the same people who didn’t actually know him at all. So here he was at Bandits, the not-quite-so-upstanding version of the Eagle’s Nest, about fifteen miles south of town off Highway 191.
He wasn’t exactly sure what he was hoping to find here. He just knew what he wouldn’t find here: close friends.
The lighting was dim inside Bandits, the air a little stale. Baby had spent the entire past week outside, so a little dim and stale suited him just fine.
Classic rock blared from the bar speakers—Van Halen’s guitar licks setting the vibe. A large bar ran along the south wall, booths along the back edge, a couple of pool tables near the bathrooms, and a small dance floor—already crowded with a group of women and a few couples.
Baby didn’t smile at anyone as he made his way over to the bar and ordered himself a boilermaker. Josh, a bartender Baby knew casually, poured the shot, then the beer, before he dropped the shot glass into the beer. Baby drank them both while Josh was still in front of him, then nodded at the man’s raised eyebrow, silently asking if he wanted another.