The Keeper of Bees ARC

by Gregory Ashe

  THE KEEPER OF BEES

  HAZARD AND SOMERSET: A UNION OF SWORDS

  BOOK 5

  GREGORY ASHE

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright 2020 Gregory Ashe

  All Rights Reserved

  CHAPTER ONE

  JUNE 30

  SUNDAY

  6:12 PM

  EMERY HAZARD WAS LOSING AN ARGUMENT.

  “I did not say dancing was stupid.”

  They were gathered in their neighbors’ kitchen. Nominally, it was a party.

  “No,” his fiancé, John-Henry Somerset, responded. “I believe your exact words were ‘It’s pedestrian.’”

  “And,” their friend Noah put in, “he said it’s just a way of distracting people from serious concerns like the International Monetary Fund’s leadership blunders from 2010 to 2017.”

  Hazard was seriously reconsidering the friend part. “You’re not helping. Look, I know you want a big wedding—”

  “I want it on record,” Somers said, “that I don’t want a big wedding.”

  “—and I’m fine with a big wedding, but I think dancing would get chaotic.”

  “And he said it was the opiate of the masses,” Gray Dulac said. Somers’s partner elbowed into their conversation around the island in Noah and Rebeca’s kitchen. “That’s from Marx, bitches.”

  Hazard decided Dulac needed some friendly advice, so he said, “Stay the fuck out of this.”

  “Language,” Rebeca said as she walked by, and then a passel of kids shot through the kitchen. “And Emery also said dancing was a frivolous use of calories, and it was particularly unethical in light of all the malnourished people across the world.”

  “Rebeca,” Hazard said, unable to control the wounded tone.

  She shrugged. “You did say that.”

  “My point,” Hazard said, “is that we can do something besides dancing.”

  “It’s a wedding,” Somers said.

  “He probably can’t dance,” Dulac said.

  “He’s Emery Hazard,” Noah said, “of course he can dance.” Then he added, “He’s probably just really bad at it.”

  “Emery can dance,” Nico, Hazard’s ex-boyfriend, put in. “He’s a really, really good dancer.”

  “Suck up,” Mitchell said. The red-headed kid had been crushing hard on Nico, and now he gave him a playful shove. Nico, who was gorgeous and all arms and legs, pretended to tumble into the refrigerator.

  “I’m with Emery,” Wesley said. The pastor nodded and added, “There’s absolutely no reason to have dancing.”

  “See?” Hazard said.

  “It’s godless and immoral.”

  Hazard groaned.

  “And,” Wesley said, grinning as he pulled his girlfriend Susan against him, “even though godless and immoral things can be tremendously fun, Emery’s obviously just a bad dancer.”

  “I’m a fine dancer,” Hazard said. “It’s all about rhythm and rhythm is all about counting. I’m a great dancer.”

  Somers just shook his head.

  “And,” Hazard said, “the only reason I’m against dancing is that to be a good dancer, a really good dancer, you have to have an ass. And some people in this room have absolutely no ass. Zero ass.”

  Total silence; then, from upstairs, a thunderous crash from the kids.

  “Dude,” Dulac whispered.

  “Ok, folks,” Somers said, gesturing with a can of Pepsi, “nothing to see here. Move along.”

  “Maybe you guys should waltz,” Noah said.

  “That,” Rebeca said, “is the whitest thing ever.”

  “What’s wrong with a waltz? It’s easy, and like Emery said, you can just count the steps.”

  “He could manage a waltz,” Dulac said, frowning over his beer. “Probably.”

  “Emery, you should just grind up on him,” Nico said, “you know, like when we’d go to the Pretty Pretty—” Mitchell clapped a hand over Nico’s mouth and both of the younger men giggled as it turned into wrestling.

  “Move along,” Somers said, gesturing with the can again. The gathering in the kitchen broke up, with people drifting into Noah and Rebeca’s living room.

  “It’s only in comparison,” Rebeca said as she passed Hazard, flicking a gaze at him and then at Somers’s backside. “You just can’t live up to Emery’s . . . statuesque build.”

  “A little less commentary, please,” Somers said.

  Hazard held himself rigidly on the stool, his thumb flicking up and down the bottle of Guinness.

  “They’re teasing you,” Somers whispered in his ear.

  “I know.” Flick. Flick.

  “Because they love you.”

  Hazard’s thumb stopped on the side of the beer. He rolled his eyes.

  “And I love you too,” Somers said, kissing his neck. “Although I’m going to make you take back that comment about my flat ass.”

  And then Somers pinched Hazard’s butt and headed for the refrigerator. Hazard’s gut tightened the way it still did, even after a few dry months, but Somers just grabbed another Pepsi. When he turned around, something must have been on Hazard’s face because Somers blushed lightly, and then he shrugged and displayed the can like a The Price is Right showgirl. Then he laughed, and the moment broke, and he moved into the living room.

  Hazard finished his beer and left the empty in the sink; then he moved to the living room and took up a spot along the wall. Mitchell and Nico were doing some more giggling together on the sofa, heads close together, Nico’s hand casually on Mitchell’s leg. Wesley was standing by the door, talking to Susan; her head was down, shaking in a negative, while Wesley said something low and hurried. Dulac had cornered Darnell, a big man in overalls and a Carhartt tee, and was peppering the bigger man’s face with kisses. Darnell was fire-engine red and grinning. Somers stood in a loose triangle with Noah and Rebeca, all three of them laughing. And then another passel of kids stampeded through the living room, and Hazard smiled in spite of himself; his daughter, Evie, three years old, was hot on the tail of Robbie, almost eleven, who was shrieking and pretending to let her catch up.

  “Dee,” Evie screamed as she ran past. “Robbie spank me!”

  “Bet you can’t spank me,” Robbie shouted, and then the chase moved on, with Evie squealing with delight as her chubby little legs carried her after her intended victim.

  “You ask them,” Darnell said, the quiet tone drawing Hazard’s attention.

  “No, you,” Dulac said.

  “You’re their friend.”

  “So are you.” Dulac grinned, shifting his constellations of freckles, and added, “And they like you better.”

  “It was your idea.”

  “Fine,” Dulac said, “but you owe me. Next time we’re—” Darnell got a hand over his mouth, muffling the words; when he pulled away, Dulac was still saying, “—and then I get to—” before Darnell got his hand back into place.

  “Never mind,” Darnell said, pecking Dulac on the cheek once. “I’ll ask them. Hi, um. Excuse me, everyone. Really quick.” The Vandal hordes had moved to the basement, and the adults turned toward Dulac and Darnell. If possible, Darnell got even redder, and he dry washed his hands once before continuing. “The thing is, the really great thing is, well, we’ve been talking a lot, and we’ve been, you know, building a relationship, and I think you’ve all seen how, if you think about it, Gray and I are really making important steps towards the future, and . . .” The words dried up; he wrun
g his hands again.

  “Uh, Gray,” Somers said. “What’s going on?”

  “You are not getting married,” Hazard said. “You can get married one year after us.”

  “What?” Dulac said. “Dude, no. Gross. We’re not getting married. We’re moving in together. We bought a house.” Then Dulac flushed, just a dusting of pink behind the freckles. “It’s just down the street, actually.”

  “No,” Hazard said.

  “That’s great,” Somers said. “Congratulations.”

  “Sell it,” Hazard said.

  Somers shot him a look.

  “Congratulations,” Noah said, lifting his beer in a toast.

  “Congratulations,” Rebeca echoed.

  “You’re talking about the Martinez’s house,” Hazard said. “It’s got termites. Sell it. Asbestos too. You can’t live there.”

  “Don’t worry, Emery,” Darnell said. “We had it inspected. Termites are taken care of, and the asbestos was actually really easy to remove. It’s totally safe.”

  “Property crime,” Hazard said. “You really have to think about the risk of property crime.”

  Somehow, Somers had worked his way over and now elbowed Hazard. “Enough,” he muttered. Then, to Dulac and Darnell, he said, “Congratulations, guys. That’s really exciting.”

  “And, since you’re all our friends,” Dulac said, slumping against Darnell now, his head on Darnell’s shoulder, “we expect you to show up and help us move.”

  “Please,” Darnell said. “We’d really appreciate it.”

  Hazard was already constructing a plan: somehow he had to make sure the moving truck—fully insured, of course—was destroyed along with all of Dulac and Darnell’s worldly possessions, thus ensuring they didn’t move onto the same street as Hazard and Somers. Maybe gasoline and a match, maybe just driving it into the river. But before he could volunteer to drive the moving truck, a voice broke through his thoughts.

  “This is just perfect.” It was Susan’s voice, and when Hazard glanced back, he saw the tall, plain-faced woman yank open the door. She stormed out, leaving Wesley behind. Wesley stood with his shoulders slumped, hands on his hips, staring at the ground. After a moment, he looked up; his face was almost as red as his ginger quiff.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I hope you all have a good night; Rebeca, Noah, thank you again.” He fumbled with the door, added another, “Sorry,” over his shoulder, and slunk out of the house.

  “What happened there?” Somers said.

  “Susan was upset and ran off. Wesley went after her.”

  “Oh, somehow I missed that. Thanks.”

  “Really, John? Because you were looking right at—oh. Don’t do that.”

  Somers smiled at him.

  “It’s not cute.”

  Somers shrugged.

  “Ask better questions.”

  Somers kissed him on the cheek.

  Scrubbing at his cheek, Hazard growled, “Specificity is the key to critical thinking.”

  “You just can’t help spewing poetry, can you?”

  “We’ll help,” Nico said. Mitchell whispered something to him, and both of them giggled. “Mitchell’s really strong,” Nico continued between bursts of giggles. “Look at these biceps.” And then more wrestling ensued, with Nico trying to show off Mitchell’s arms—in Hazard’s opinion, the kid looked like he needed to start with the ten-pound weights.

  “We can help too,” Somers said, squeezing Hazard’s hand.

  “No,” Hazard said. “Why’d you wait so long to ask for help? And why are you moving in together? Isn’t that a little fast?”

  Somers squeezed his hand again.

  Through gritted teeth, Hazard said, “I’ll drive the truck.”

  “Awesome, bro, awesome,” Dulac said. “But we’ve already got somebody to drive the truck. I’m putting you on appliance duty: washer, dryer, refrigerator.”

  “Pass,” Hazard said.

  “We’ll get you a dolly, dude.”

  “John,” Hazard said.

  “You shouldn’t spend so much time working out,” Somers said with a shrug. “Then people wouldn’t ask you to lift heavy things.”

  “Like Mitchell,” Nico put in, and then more wrestling ensued.

  “For fuck’s sake,” Hazard muttered. “Why can’t they just screw each other and get it over with?”

  “See, this is why I tell people you’re a born romantic,” Somers said.

  “Forget I said anything,” Hazard said.

  “It’s those rose-colored glasses; you can’t help seeing all the beauty in the world.”

  “If I have to watch those two get to second base, I need another beer.”

  “You’re like a modern-day Cupid,” Somers called after him. “Spreading love wherever you go.”

  Hazard gave him the finger without looking back, but two steps into the kitchen, he spotted Ricky, who spotted Hazard in turn. Ricky’s eight-year-old eyes got huge as they locked onto the middle finger.

  “Now let’s talk about this,” Hazard said, dropping his hand. “Are you amenable to bribes?”

  “Mom!” Ricky screamed, shooting off into the living room. “Mr. Hazard did something bad!”

  Groaning, Hazard got another beer from the fridge. He drank for a few minutes in the kitchen, leaning up against the counter, listening to the hub of voices from the other room. He ran his hand along the edge of the counter. He made up a new guest list for the wedding, and then he ran through a series of mental checklists. They’d managed to secure a venue not far from Wahredua, and Hazard had already finished background checks on the employees. They had all passed with the exception of a young man with a few convictions for possession. Hazard had spoken to the young man and explained, clearly, how he wanted this wedding to be the best day of his fiancé’s life. At some point, the young man had started crying, at which point Somers had gotten involved, which made Hazard feel the issue might not be fully resolved. He added another box to his mental checklist: find a few minutes to speak privately to that young man again. Just to make sure. But standing there, drinking a Guinness, running his hand along the counter, visualizing how he would corner that little delinquent and really impress upon him the gravity of this situation, the whole time listening to the voices from the living room, the thing Hazard did most was smile.

  A chorus of goodbyes came from the front room, and then a second round, and then Somers poked his head into the kitchen. “They’re gone.”

  “Who?”

  “Nico, Mitchell, Dulac and Darnell.”

  “Did Nico and Mitchell leave together?”

  Somers grinned, and one eyebrow shot up.

  “No,” Hazard said, jabbing the neck of the beer toward him. “I am not jealous.”

  “I know.”

  “I do not care if they’re together.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m asking because it’s important to keep track of romantic associations within a friend group.”

  “Of course it is.”

  “Romantic relationships are potentially destabilizing. If things end badly, it could upset the social order.”

  “Ree. Sweetheart.”

  Hazard took a vicious drink of the Guinness and then said, “What?” He punctuated the question with another wild jab of the bottle.

  “Come watch a movie.”

  Somers waited for Hazard to join him, and then he squeezed Hazard’s hand as they went back into the living room.

  “Ok,” Noah said, scrolling through the cable TV menu; the channel preview in the corner showed a young woman working diligently at an office job while dollar signs and question marks danced over her head. Hazard predicted some sort of credit card or payday loan commercial. “Now, listen, we have to make a serious choice. Really serious. There’s a lot on the line.” He paused, remote still extended toward the TV, and looked at them: “Die Hard one or two?”

  “Goodnight,
boys,” Rebeca said, moving toward the hall.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Hazard snapped, pointing at her with the beer.

  “Have a great time,” she said with huge smile.

  “Rebeca, don’t you dare leave me alone with these two.”

  She was already out of sight; from the hallway came a singsong, “Goodnight.”

  “Die Hard,” Somers said. “The original.”

  Hazard groaned.

  “It’s the best one,” Somers said. “Two is awesome, but you can’t beat the original.”

  “Thank God,” Noah said, dropping back onto the sofa, his goofy grin breaking out. “I thought we were going to have to fight.”

  “What about you, Ree?”

  “Abstain.”

  “You can’t abstain. What do you want to watch?”

  “The original.”

  “He’s just saying that,” Somers said. “For real, what do you want to watch?”

  “Hey, I thought we agreed we were going to watch one of the Die Hards. That was the whole point.”

  “Yeah, but I want to let Ree have a say.”

  “Die Hard is fine,” Hazard said.

  “Great,” Noah said.

  “Wait for it,” Somers said.

  “If,” Hazard said, “you enjoy poorly conceived, poorly written, poorly acted, and poorly directed movies that are completely nonsensical and that are embarrassingly unrealistic.”

  “There it is,” Somers murmured.

  “But,” Noah said, glancing from Hazard to Somers and back to Hazard. “But . . . but it’s Die Hard.”

  “Have you seen it?” Somers asked Hazard.

  “I tried to watch it. Once. I got through about five minutes.”

  “Emery,” Noah said, squirming to the edge of the sofa cushion. “It’s one of the best action movies ever. It totally revolutionized the genre. It’s got Bruce Willis, and it’s got Alan Rickman. It’s got evil Germans. It’s got explosions and that kick-ass scene with the broken glass. You’ve got to give it a try.”

  “I already gave it a try. You guys go ahead; I think I’ll call it a night.”

  “Are you sure?” Somers said.