We Have Till Monday

I scanned the crowd as the spotlights once again extended outside of the stage.

I knew in my gut that they were here.

Wiping some sweat off my forehead, I glanced back at Luiz and waited for my cue.

This wasn’t part of my plan.

It wasn’t part of August’s plan either. He’d told Camden to tidy up his arts and crafts supplies; instead, I found the boy on the patio back at the ranch, in the middle of creating a bracelet for himself.

He’d hauled out four boxes full of beads, crayons, glitter glue, paper crafts, and things I couldn’t identify. And he’d been so happy to see me that I couldn’t bring myself to remind him of his chores. He demanded I sit next to him on the sofa so I could watch what he did.

“It’s almost done,” he said, reaching for a small wire cutter.

I took a bite of my venison burger and peered closer. Too fucking cute. He was spelling out ragazzo with colorful plastic beads.

“Just don’t forget to eat.” I extended my burger. “Wanna try this one? It’s from some steakhouse in Montana.”

He shook his head. He hadn’t touched his Cajun sandwich either. “I’m concentrating, Sir. I gotta concentrate.”

This kid wasn’t gonna clean up after himself without reminders, was he? He was off in his own world, where cleaning didn’t exist. Probably not festivals either.

“You remember that Daddy gave you a list of chores, right?”

He huffed. “I am cleaning. I’m using the stuff, and when I’ve used it, I’m putting it back where it belongs.”

That was one special way to sort through a mess.

“There’s no way August would buy that,” I noted wryly.

“But he’s not here now,” Camden replied smugly. “He won’t be back for many, many hours.”

“Actually…I was hoping I could bring you to the festival after we’ve eaten.”

He stopped what he was doing and scrunched his nose. “But Daddy’s working there. I would worry too much about running into people who recognize me, and it could get Daddy into trouble. No, Sir. No, thank you.”

I set down my burger and pressed a hand to my stomach. I winced a little, too. I’d eaten too much already.

“I know he wants me there, by the way,” he added. “I just get too nervous, and I don’t like being nervous.”

I rubbed his back but didn’t say anything yet. This was gonna take some creativity, I reckoned. I didn’t want him to feel worried when he was out; I wanted him to enjoy himself. Especially when he was regressing. Despite it being a food festival, there were several vendors selling other shit. Toys, balloons, board games… I’d passed one vendor after picking up the chicken fries I’d eaten on the way back here, and he’d sold both Alaskan ice cream and leather boots from their Native culture. I was certain Camden could have a blast at the festival, and his costumes came to mind again. Maybe it didn’t have to be a dumb idea. Maybe it was the perfect idea for a young man who thrived when he let go of all adult notions and standards.

He was anything but adult right now. Sitting there in his pajama bottoms, making a bracelet, forgetting to eat. Forgetting the sun. His shoulders looked a little red, and I assumed he’d been sitting here since the sun had flooded the patio area.

“You need sunscreen, ragazzo,” I said. “Do you know where you keep it?”

He shrugged and pointed distractedly toward the house, then focused on adding the last bead to the bracelet. “Maybe in Daddy’s bathroom, I don’t know.”

It gave me an idea. I’d already spent an hour sweating buckets at the event, and I was hoping for some hot sex when August came back. Camden and I could use a good cleanin’. And it would give me a chance to find out where Camden’s mind was at. If he was in a sexual mind-set today or not.

It might be easier if we saved the festival for tomorrow anyway. August wouldn’t be working then.

“Finish your sandwich, Camden,” I told him. “Then you and I are taking a bath.”

He whipped his head my way, youthful excitement lighting up his eyes. “Can you wash me and scratch my scalp? I love that.”

As if I’d be able to keep my hands off him.

This was gonna frustrate me to no end.

“Come here.” I closed the lid on the toilet after wrapping a towel around my hips, and I sat down with a towel for Camden. He stepped between my legs so I could dry him off and hopefully get a fucking answer.

He kept rambling about a new action figure he wanted to buy and that he was saving his allowance from Daddy in his “super-cool” Darth Vader piggy bank. Which spoke volumes about where Camden’s mind was, and it wasn’t sex. But his body said otherwise.