WEAK FOR ME
Cover Design by Kari March
Beta Reading by Kristen Breanne, Your Editing Lounge
Editing by Amanda Cuff, Word of Advice Editing
Formatting by Jill Sava, Love Affair With Fiction
“Loveherbutleaveherwild.”
Atticus
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Epilogue
Strip for Me Sneak Peek
Acknowledgments About the Author
Also Written by Georgia Coffman
CHAPTER 1
“My elbow grew its own tit.”
I choke on my water and rush to cover my mouth with the back of my hand to keep drops from flying out.
My friend Ty shoves his bent elbow in my face. “Check this shit out.” There’s a small protrusion on his elbow, jutting out like a bead.
Wiping my chin, I cringe. “What the hell is it? Does it hurt?”
“Nah, but it’s weird looking.”
I lower myself onto the bench, talking to him in the mirror. “You should let a doctor examine it. And while you’re at it, have them do something about your knee.”
“My knee’s better, though.” He wiggles it around as though it’s proof enough. “It was just bruised from that fall on stage. Got too into the moves.” He winks at me like I’m one of the women we dance for.
“We should make it our tagline: we’ll risk our lives for you.”
He fist bumps me. “Classic.”
Rolling my eyes, I grab the dumbbells from the floor by my feet, my face red by the time I get into position for overhead shoulder press. It’s a staple exercise for us, and the position is as known to me as my own name.
We’re dancers for Naked Heat, Vegas’s hottest male revue show, which means a six-pack and jacked shoulders come with the territory.
Spit flies out of my mouth with every exhale as I breathe through each rep.
Nine.
Ten.
“Almost there.” Ty stands behind me, holding his hands out, palms up.
Eleven.
Twelve.
“Give me three more,” he coaches, spotting me to make sure the dumbbell doesn’t fall on my head.
In the mirror, I note the veins popping in my neck as I use every bit of energy left to squeeze through the last rep. I drop the weights and grunt, my tired shoulders screaming at me. Leaning against the back of the bench, I inhale a lung full of air as if I just emerged from a burning building.
“My turn.” Ty smacks my sore shoulder, and I wince. “Oops. Sorry, player.”
“You did it on purpose.”
He chuckles. “I wanted to make sure you’re still alive. That set was fucking brutal.”
“Damn right.” I give him the seat and spin in circles, taking in the old dusty gym. This place is practically our second home here in Vegas. For over ten years, this is where we’ve worked out five days a week, unless we’ve been on tour.
I lift my shirt and wipe the sweat from my forehead as Ty uses his knees to raise each dumbbell into position. He presses ten with ease, unlike me. He’s younger than me by almost four years, and he’s also bigger. He used to be the largest of us all until his girlfriend Emma came along.
Instead of working out, she became his new hobby—his words, not mine.
I assist with his last couple reps and stand upreight when he’s finished. We switch off again, and by the time we’re finished with this exercise, we’re yelling in each other’s faces. A motivational tactic.
Our shirts are drenched.
We’re on the verge of vomiting.
This is why I prefer working out with Ty alone. When the rest of the guys are here, our workouts are slower and less challenging.
I drink more water and walk with Ty toward the pec deck to finish our workout with rear delts. We weave through women with bright shirts, guys as big and angry as tanks, and rusted machines, which were probably new when my great-grandparents were alive.
The latter is the charm of this place.
We reach the machine and find it vacant. With this many people in here, we never know what we’ll get. We often have to change our workouts to accommodate, but today, the gym gods are smiling down on us—as Sienna, one of my sisters, might say.
Ty tosses his bag down and smacks my shoulder, making me glare at him. “You need a woman.”
“No, I need you to stop hitting my shoulder.”
Like the smartass he is, he hits my side with a fraction of his full strength.
“Much better.” I throw my bag down next to his and place my hands on my hips.
“Come on. What else are you going to do in all your spare time once you leave us?” He gets the bars in place and sits facing the back of the seat. After he sets the weight, he peers at me over his shoulder. “Who are you going to spend your fortune on?”
“I regret ever telling you about my trust fund.” I scratch the back of my head.
He and our other friend Sebastian didn’t know about the money my father left me when he passed. I only told them about it last year because Sebastian needed a swift kick in the nuts—and funds— to quit Naked Heat and open The Martini Inn, a boutique hotel in LA. It was his dream, and I wanted to help.
But I’m paying for it now with Ty’s harassment.
He grows quiet and focuses on the exercise, pulling both handles to the side and back, provoking his muscles. Toward the end of his set, he breathes more and more heavily, which gives me peace from his jabbering.
I wipe the sweat from my forehead with the bottom of my tank as we switch spots.
He stands to the side, half his shirt tucked into the waistband of his shorts. “I’m just saying—you have the best pick-up line already. ‘Hey, you interested in a good time? Because I’m loaded—in more
ways than one.’ Then, you wink and lead the woman back to the fucking Ritz and feed her chocolate-covered strawberries after she sucks—”
Taking a seat, I hold my hands up for him to stop. “Quite the picture you paint, but I’m not interested in a one-night stand. Besides, shouldn’t you be encouraging me to find what you have with Emma? Everlasting love? A lifelong partner?”
“I take it back. There’s your line for the ladies. A permanent, loving boyfriend? They eat that shit up faster than I did those wings at the wing-eating contest. You remember? I set a record.”
“Yes, I wrote about it in my journal.” I roll my eyes and tug at my loose turquoise tank to get some air to my clammy chest.
With a rough exhale, I focus on pulling the weights back, squeezing through the movements.
I grind my teeth, and my heart pounds.
Blood rushes to my muscles.
My body stretches and tightens.
I don’t need to be in the depths of the ocean as a great white shark circles me in order to feel alive. Weightlifting and pushing my body’s limits are enough for me.
This is the perfect kind of adrenaline rush because it’s one I can control. My form and breathing depend on me and only me.
Control makes my world go round.
Ty and I switch places again, and by the end of Ty’s set, his tongue is hanging out like he’s a thirsty dog. He slurps from his water bottle like one too, letting a stream of it fall down his chest.
“Lifelong love is great, and you should have it,” Ty says, panting. Placing his hands on his hips, he stands next to me by the machine.
“But you’ve never even had a one-night stand. Or a hookup. Or even a make-out session in the corner of a club with a random hottie with an accent and—”
I hold my hand up, glancing around us. “Again, quite a picture you paint, but I’m not interested in any of that, either.”
“I’ll give you the number of a woman I used to know. She’s got huge tits she used to suck on while we got it on.”
“Jesus,” I hiss. “People can hear you.”
“Who? Everyone’s got music blaring in their headphones.”
I rub my hands down my face. “I don’t fucking want your sloppy seconds, anyway.”
“Why? Jordan had no problem.” He shrugs.
“Jordan also has no standards.” I fight a laugh.
Jordan’s the youngest of Naked Heat, having recently turned twenty-one. He’s bold, spontaneous, and reckless—as most of us were around the same age. But we learned, and he will too.
Ty’s expression changes to something more serious.
“What?” Exasperated, I study him through squinted eyes. I’m usually good at reading him. At voicing what he’s thinking before he’s even realized he’s thinking it at all.
But something’s off here. There’s a confession hiding in the crease of his brow and his tense shoulders.
“All I’m saying is—you’re thirty-two and still single. I’m only trying to hook you up.”
“What’s wrong with being single? Not like I have gray hair already, or something.” I pin him with my glare. “Besides, I remember a time when you swore you’d never settle down. You
never cared about my advice to change your ways until you met the right woman.”
He relaxes his stance a fraction.
“Can we get back to the workout now? My heart rate is quickly decreasing, deflating like your dick on stage when you were too lovesick over Emma to do your job.”
“Ouch, man.”
I shrug and smile. “At least you won your girl back, and you’re fucking happy now.”
“Damn right. You still going to help me with the big proposal?”
“Of course. I’m always here to help.”
“And not get laid. Seriously, you provide me and the guys with too many jokes. It’s so easy.”
“Well, I wouldn’t have to be celibate if any of the girls I take out would make it to the fifth date.” I almost bite my tongue from clamping my mouth shut so fast, cursing myself for letting that fall out. Ty’s in my damn head.
“What do you mean?”
I grab my bag and throw it over my shoulder, moving toward the door.
Fuck the rest of the workout.
I need to get the hell out of here.
I’m tight-lipped about my past and my life outside of Naked Heat for a reason. I don’t need the guys giving me shit over things they don’t understand, but the longer I stay with Ty, the more likely I am to spill my guts like a heartbroken thirteen-year-old girl.
“No, man.” Ty hustles up next to me. “You know every gory detail about all of us, especially Sebastian and me. What gives?”
“Let’s walk and talk,” I say, trying to avoid attracting an audience.
It’s not uncommon to be stopped by women who recognize us from our shows, and I can’t deal with them right now. It’ll be too hard to force a happy façade for them.
“Are you going to talk to me or continue staring into space like a creep?” Ty snaps his fingers in front of my face. “What’s going on with you?”
“Listen, nothing’s going on. There are just a lot of things you and the guys don’t know about me.”
“I gleaned as much.” He scoffs. “Which is why I’m trying to change that.”
I sigh, growing uncomfortable with this conversation in every way, like the discomfort I feel from chafing during a jog. Which is why I don’t jog. “I date women. I went out with one very nice girl several months back. Remember when you and I had to drag Sebastian out of Pete’s bar? I was seeing her.”
Ty throws his hands up in frustration. “That was like a year ago! You’re telling me you haven’t had any action since then?”
“Lower your fucking voice. Even people at the smoothie stand across the street can hear you.” I duck my head behind my hand like I’m hiding from the paparazzi. I’m not used to being on this side of these conversations. On the contrary, I’m normally the one delivering the lectures.
The guys have always needed them. That’s what my past coach and mentor, Darren, did with our old Naked Heat crew, and I took over once he stepped down. He still hosts for us, but other than that, it’s been up to me to keep these wild guys in line.
I don’t enjoy being on the receiving end right now.
“Tell me it isn’t so.” Ty stands in front of me, blocking my escape, and blinks as though I’m telling him I have twelve toes.
“I’ve gone on dates since then.”
“You haven’t gotten your dick wet, though.”
I cringe at the painful truth of his vulgar phrase. “None of them make it to the fifth date. You wouldn’t think it’d be so hard. Hell, it’s one date, two, three—which is when we make out—four, then five. The magic night. It’s simple, yet they don’t make it.”
Ty bursts into laughter, his dark skin glistening under the fluorescent lights. Even his sweat and tattoos seem to be laughing at me.
“I’m going home now.” I brush past him and burst through the door.
Immediately, I’m hit with devilish heat. It’s the middle of July in Vegas, and it feels like the sun is only a mile away.
Ty follows, his laughter slowly subsiding. I don’t make it ten feet before he grabs the strap of my bag and pulls me backward. “No, no, no.” He catches his breath. “Please tell me that’s not your weird rulebook or some shit.”
“It is. Why?”
“You really don’t sleep with women until they go on five dates with you? You even explain this to them?” His laughter is back, but it’s quieter, like a whisper. A mocking whisper, which grates on my every nerve.
“I do.” I nod, clenching my jaw. “They’re fine with it too, until the third date when making out isn’t enough. I mean, women constantly complain about guys only wanting one thing from them. Here I am trying to be reasonable and respectful, but they don’t want to hear
of it.” I get lost in my rant, almost forgetting Ty is listening like a moth, which was recently named as having the best hearing in the world.
Something I learned from watching Discovery Channel with Ty. The bastard has his quirks, yet I go along with them all. Why can’t he do the same for me?
“Women are a mystery, no doubt about it, but what about you? You can get any woman you want, but you push them away? I don’t get it.”
I sigh, because he’s right. We do have a never-ending supply of women after us. I used to think it was arrogant, but the truth is, the guys and I ooze sex. Many women can’t resist. They paw at us during each show and know what we’re packing. We don’t get completely naked on stage, but we’re barely covered. It’s enough for them to know.
And they always want more.
After every Naked Heat performance, women come knocking, ready and willing like we’re gods.
It’s been hard to resist them all and live like I do, nearly as celibate as a fucking monk, although the reasons are far from religious.
“I have my reasons,” I tell Ty, walking toward my Jeep. “What time are we meeting Sebastian and the girls tomorrow night? Or are they going straight to the show?”
“Oh no, you don’t. You can’t change the subject. That’s some real conservative shit you laid down, and I need to know what the hell is going on with you.” Ty stands between me and my getaway.
“Not if you want me to help you with your proposal. So, what’s it going to be?”
“That’s cold, brother.” He shakes his head, stepping aside.
Once I’m settled in the driver’s seat of my Jeep, I lean over my open window and quirk my eyebrow, refusing to budge.
“Pick me up. The girls are getting together beforehand and taking one car straight to the show.” He exhales. “Emma will get to town from LA early and come straight over for alonetime because I need that ass. I can’t believe you’ve gone a whole year without some pussy, and I can’t even withstand a few days.”
To be honest, I’m surprised he survives with Emma living in LA, but they make it work even from a distance. Even with Ty stripping for a living, something I didn’t think Emma would be able to handle. Some days are harder for them than others, but they’re solid enough to overcome whatever gets between them.
At the end of the day, they do whatever it takes to make it work. Is it so wrong for me to want the same?
“Let me know when I should pick you up,” I tell him. “Your old, beat-up Honda won’t last much longer. Can it even make a trip across town?”
“My Honda could beat your Jeep’s ass any day.” He knocks on the hood, and I pull away, chuckling at how much has changed since we all met. Yet, some things stay the same—like Ty’s arrogance and filthy mind.
I rub my jaw as I pull onto the main road toward my apartment, my mind drifting. All this fucking love in the air lately. It would be nauseating if part of me wasn’t so hopeful.
Hopeful that I’d be so lucky as Sebastian and Ty are.
Sebastian’s a newlywed, and Ty’s proposing this weekend.
It all started with Sebastian well over a year ago, when he first danced with his now-wife Kendall at one of our shows. She was attending her sister’s bachelorette party, and neither could deny the pull between them.
It avalanched from there when Ty met Kendall’s roommate, Emma. Much to everyone’s surprise, Ty fell in love with her. I never thought I’d see the day that Ty would settle down, but I’m happy for him, nonetheless.
Ty’s always been impulsive and careless, but Emma grounds him. They balance each other out like a seesaw. This weekend will be the true test, although I have no doubt she’ll accept his proposal.
Ty may mock my five dates oath I took for myself, but I have it for very good reasons. He should know by now I always have my reasons.
One day, I won’t have to fall back on the rules. One day, I’ll move on and take a chance.
But not today.
Nor will it be tomorrow or the next day.
Fifteen years is a long time, but it hasn’t been enough for me to trust a woman and forget why I have boundaries to begin with.
And it’ll take the rightwoman to make me forget.
CHAPTER 2
Emma and I merge onto the interstate, taking us away from LA and toward Vegas.
Sin City.
It’ll be my first time visiting. It’s my first trip without my brothers or parents trying to hold my hand every time I cross the street too.
As of this week, I’m officially twenty-one. I can drink and go to Vegas for a little girls’ trip. I can even attend Naked Heat too.
Because I’m an adult, damn it.
“How are you and Mason?” Emma asks, never taking her eyes off the road.
I cringe, even though it’s a fair question.
“When are you going out again?” she continues.
“Um…” I fidget with my hands in my lap. “We’re not.”
Her focus remains on the road, and she keeps her hands at the ten-and-two position. “Why not? You finally went on a date after
crushing on him for years, and I thought it went well. You went to the Italian place, right?”
“Yes, and it was nice. I wouldn’t say it went really well, though. It wasn’t what I expected, and—wait, is it weird talking about this with you?” I scrunch my nose. She’s happily with Ty now, but still.
“Bailey.” She checks her mirrors and switches lanes, her posture perfectly straight as she drives while I slouch in the passenger seat. “You can talk about him. Mason and I went on one friendly date almost a year ago. It didn’t even end with a kiss, let alone a sleepover. I think it’s safe for you to talk about him.” She gives me a small smile.
Emma and I have been friends for a couple years, ever since she started volunteering at the animal shelter. Mason and I befriended her during a shift and started attending her yoga classes too.
For most of that time, Mason had feelings for Emma, while I pined after him.
“It was nice.”
“You said that already.”
I watch the road, mesmerized by the lines blurring from our speed. How did I get to this point? How did it all falter?
I’d wanted Mason to kiss me for years, but when it happened last week, it was wrong.
And not in a yet,ohsorightkind of way.
“I was in love with him,” I whisper, and I’m not sure Emma hears me. She’s silent, so I speak louder. “I was in love with Mason. When we were kids, I looked up to him. He was this cool, older guy, and he always watched out for me. He’s always been friends with my brothers and was over at our house a lot, playing video games or
swimming.” I inwardly roll my eyes, recalling the fights they used to have over whose turn it was or whose cannonball created the biggest splash. “He would always stop by my room on his way out and ask me what book I was reading or what new song I was listening to. When Tim Burgess broke up with me at prom, Mason left his date and gave me a ride home. He consoled me that night.” I stop my story there before I say too much.
Before I tell her that I was saving myself for Mason. He was supposed to be my first.
Of course, it’s just Emma, and she’s always been a good and caring listener. But hearing myself talk, I realize how pathetic I must sound. Why Mason and my brothers still treat me like a child. It’s because I sound like one.
I’ll be starting my senior year of college next month, but it’s like I’m stuck in high school.
In the past.
Emma nods. “What happened then?”
“I embarrassed myself.” I laugh softly, but it’s humorless. “I told him I didn’t care about Tim at all. That I was in love with Mason. But he told me he valued our friendship too much to try to be anything more.”
“Ouch.”
“Ouch times a million.” I gulp, moving my attention from the lines on the road to the cars passing us in the opposite lane until I settle on the rolling hills in the distance.
She tilts her head. “That was years ago, though. You’re both older now and went on a real date. One where you didn’t have a curfew
or your brothers lurking. Wait, they weren’t hiding in a booth or anything, right?”
“No, no. We were alone.” I giggle.
She relaxes a fraction into her seat.
“It was… nice, like I said.” I twist my lips. “He was finally giving me a chance, and it was surreal. Somewhere along the way, though, things changed without me realizing it.”
“What do you mean?”
“He kissed me, and it felt like I was kissing my brother.” I wince.
Emma bursts into laughter, a blush tinting her porcelain skin. Wiping at her eye with one hand while the other steadies the steering wheel, she says, “Is it weird to say I know exactly what you mean? I never kissed him myself, but he has this brotherly vibe overall. What is it about him?”
I snort. “I don’t know! Maybe the corny jokes? His goofy smile? I mean, he’s hot, yet… I don’t know.”
“Exactly.” Once our laughter subsides, she asks, “How did you leave things?”
I inhale deeply. “I was honest with him. He’s my oldest friend, and I owed it to him to tell the truth. My feelings for him are nothing more than familial.”
“Wow.”
“Well, I wasn’t so eloquent. I think I actually used the words bro and dudeon him, which rarely come out of my mouth.”
Emma giggles with me, and we continue our road trip, driving through the desert for part of it. It’s quiet out here, and I half-expect a tumbleweed to cross the road like in the movies. As we put more
distance between us and my hometown of LA, we alternate between talk of guys and our favorite romantic comedies.
The casual topics put me at ease, distracting me from the last couple weeks, although dread seeps in every few miles. I should be excited about Vegas. About a vacation and taking a girls’ trip like this. Emma’s old roommate and good friend, Kendall, is meeting us there, and it’s going to be fun.
I am excited, but there’s still a sinking knot in my stomach that even Vegas and hot male strippers won’t be enough to make me forget.
The truth is, I’ve only known two things in my adult life: I want to be a veterinarian, and I’m in love with Mason Kinney.
I’m still on track to becoming a vet, having spent the last three years studying my ass off. I’ve missed roommate dinners and nights out in order to study, write papers, and make time for my family and myself.
As for Mason… I had planned on staying close to LA for vet school. I’m considering the private one in Pomona, the tuition for which is out of my league. On top of that, my chances of being accepted in the first place are slim to none.
Besides my brothers pushing for me to stay close, I was doing it for Mason because up until last week, I was convinced he and I would end up together. It’s how all the romance novels go, right? I felt this particular happily ever after deep in my bones. I’d stay near LA, be with Mason, and remain close to my family, overprotective brothers included.
Since things didn’t work out with Mason, though, and my brothers are driving me crazier than usual, I have all these options in front of
me. I should be happy, but it’s like I’m standing out on a ledge, ready to jump, wondering who will catch me.
What do I really want now?
“You okay?” Emma asks.
“Just thinking.”
“We’re spending the weekend in Vegas. There’s no room for thinking.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Sounds like something Kendall might say.”
“She’s who I was trying to emulate.” She smirks, making me relax. “Since you know I like to have a game plan, I’m thinking we should go straight to the hotel, change, and head to the venue for the guys’ show. It’s in the same hotel, which is good because we’re going to be pushing it on time.”
“You don’t want to stop at Ty’s? I know you haven’t seen him in a week.”
She fights a smile. “He and I will catch up afterward.”
I nod and turn my attention to the window as we pass the green and white road sign for Vegas, right after the sun’s started setting. Before I know it, the “Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada” sign appears at the beginning of the Strip, and my heart races.
The sidewalks are full of couples, tourist groups, and more. Neon lights slowly flicker to life as the sky darkens. On either side of us, the buildings tower like angels and demons, one urging us to live quietly, the other daring us to be wild.
I think I’ll go with the latter.
It’s time I focus on something other than Mason or my textbooks and have a little fun. The bustling Strip stretches farther than my
eyes can see, and I know I’ve come to the right place to do just that.
CHAPTER 3
At the entrance to the venue, Emma and I wait for Kendall to use the restroom. Emma tenses when she checks her Apple watch, muttering under her breath, “I swear, Kendall has aged me eighteen years. She makes me late for everything.”
I check the time on my phone too and notice we’re five minutes early, but for Emma, it’s late.
“Why did she insist we have drinks beforehand? We’re going to be drinking all night. More importantly, why did I agree to her stupid plan?” Emma rolls her eyes and checks her watch again.
“What’re you saying about me?” Kendall appears seemingly out of nowhere and loops her arm around our shoulders.
Emma scowls, leading us through the room full of women, drinks, and light-hearted energy. We go straight to our table in the front, and the moment our asses hit the seats, a server comes by for our drink orders.
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us who were not afraid to stare, or hold our heads as high as their lordships. A band accompanied them and played the Bonnie Blue Flag, which was hissed and groaned at by the Yankees, and in return a thousand voices sang Yankee Doodle, very much to their discomfiture.
Feb. 10.—The hospital signal lights suspended over the island all night in order to direct the batteries where to aim their pieces in case of an outbreak which is greatly feared. Rockets sent up at intervals during the night over Richmond. Reported that there are six hundred muskets secreted among the prisoners and citizens very much alarmed and afraid of us. I hope there is but cannot believe it. It is impossible for me to sleep and I lay awake thinking how we are situated and wondering how long the play is to last.
Feb. 11. Cold and pleasant. A good deal of fighting going on among us—a discontented set of beings; just like so many hungry wolves penned up together. Rebels still at work fortifying all around Richmond. A number of Yankees have been taken out on parole of honor to work building breastworks etc., but a very few will go and it is considered a great crime among us to work for them. Have they forgotten our existence at the North? It seems as if we were neglected by our government but will not
judge them hastily until we know more. There are perhaps sufficient reasons for our remaining here. Very strongly guarded, nevertheless we talk of escape and are all the while building air castles.
Feb. 12. Lieut. Bossieux has sent a squad of men from the island composed of runaways over to Castle Thunder to remain during the war as hostages, among whom were our friends Myers and Mustard. I never expect to see them again.
Feb. 13. Very cold. The rebels are again settling down and getting over their scare. Not much to eat now and the men more disheartened than ever. A rebel preacher delivered us a sermon of two hours length from a dry goods box. He was listened to attentively and made the remark before closing that he didn’t know as he was doing any good talking to us. It was like casting pearls before swine and he would close his remarks, to which a Yankee told him he might have stopped long ago if he had wanted to; no one would have made any objections. Was told that six hundred are to start for Georgia to-day and subsequently six hundred every day until all are removed from Richmond. Lieut. Bossieux says it is so but there is going to be an exchange of sick in a few days and all outside hands shall be sent north with them.
Feb. 14.—Had quite an adventure last night with the raiders. One of Capt. Moseby’s robbers was trying to steal a blanket from our tent by reaching through the tent opening when Dad (E. P. Sanders), who is always awake, threw a brick hitting him on the arm, breaking the brick, and as he jumped, halloed to us, “Come boys, let’s catch the rascal,” and out of the door he went. Dr. and myself nobly rushed to the rescue and reached the door just in time to see Dad turn a short corner way up the street and close on to the heels of Mr. Robber, but he slipped and fell and the thief got away. Were soon snugly ensconced in bed once more congratulating ourselves on losing nothing as we thought. But on getting up this morning I found my shoes gone and am barefoot in the middle of winter. However I can get more and have no fear on that score. Six hundred sent away to-day, some say to our lines while others think to Georgia. Rebels say to our lines, and that a general exchange has been agreed upon. Great excitement among the men. Evening.—Lieut. Bossieux called me outside just before night and told me he was called upon to furnish some hostages to be sent to Charleston to be kept during the war, and had decided to send Hendryx and myself, with some others. Said it was better to send those who were always trying to get away. Have succeeded in buying a pair of shoes,
which, although about four sizes too large, are much better than none. Thanks to the Sanitary Commission I have good woolen stockings, under clothing complete, and am otherwise well dressed. Six hundred sent away this afternoon under a very strong guard, which does not look like an exchange.
Feb. 17.—Still on the island. Another squad taken out yesterday. It will not be our turn to go for some days, even if six hundred are taken out every day. Have not been sent for as hostages yet. Hendryx and myself have decided to flank out and go with the next that go, no matter where their destination may be. If we don’t get away, with a ghost of a chance, then it will be funny.
Feb. 20.—All sorts of rumors afloat, but still we stay here. Strange officers come over and look at us. Bossieux away considerable, and something evidently up. Anything for a change. My health is good, and tough as a bear.
Feb. 23. None have been taken away from the island for a number of days. Have heard that a box came for me, and is over in Richmond. Hope the rebel that eats the contents of that box will get choked to death. I wrote to the Governor of Michigan, Austin Blair, who is in Washington, D. C., some weeks ago. He has known me from boyhood. Always
lived in the neighborhood at Jackson, Mich. Asked him to notify my father and brothers of my whereabouts. To-day I received a letter from him saying that he had done as requested, also that the Sanitary Commission had sent me some eatables. This is undoubtedly the box which I have heard from and is over in Richmond. Rebels are trying to get recruits from among us for their one-horse Confederacy. Believe that one or two have deserted our ranks and gone over. Bad luck to them.
PEMERTON BUILDING.
A GOOD-BYE TO BELLE ISLE GOOD PLACE TO BE MOVED FROM ASTOR HOUSE MESS ON ITS TRAVELS NEW SCENES THE RAID ON RICHMOND AND CONSEQUENT SCARE ALL’S WELL IF IT ENDS WELL MEN SHOT, ETC , ETC
P
B , Richmond, Va., Feb. 24.—
We are confined on the third floor of the building, which is a large tobacco warehouse. Was removed from the island yesterday. Was a warm day and it was a long walk. Came across the “long bridge,” and it is a long bridge. Was not sorry to bid adieu to Belle Isle. Were searched last night but our mess has lost nothing, owing to the following process we have of fooling them: One of the four manages to be in the front part of the crowd and is searched first, and is then put on the floor underneath and we let our traps down through a crack in the floor to him, and when our turn comes we have nothing about us worth taking away. The men so ravenous when the rations were brought in, that the boxes of bread and tubs of poor meat were raided upon before dividing, and consequently some had nothing to eat at all, while
others had plenty. Our mess did not get a mouthful and have had nothing to eat since yesterday afternoon, and it is now nearly dark. The lice are very thick. You can see them all over the floors, walls, &c., in fact everything literally covered with them; they seem much larger than the stock on Belle Isle and a different species. We talk of escape night and day— and are nearly crazy on the subject. No more news about exchange. Papers state that Richmond is threatened, and that Kilpatrick’s cavalry is making a raid on the place for the purpose of releasing us and burning the town. Unusual bustle among them.
George W. Hendryx.
Feb. 25.—We divide the night up into four watches and take turns standing guard while the other three sleep, to protect ourselves from Captain Moseby’s gang of robbers. We are all armed with iron slats pulled off the window casings. They are afraid to
pitch in to us, as we are a stout crowd and would fight well for our worldly goods. We expect to take it before long. They are eyeing us rather sharp, and I guess will make an attack to-night. Very long days and more lonesome than when on the island. Got rations to-day, and the allowance did not half satisfy our hunger.
Feb. 26. Rather cold, almost spring. Guards unusually strict. Hendryx was standing near the window, and I close by him, looking at the high, ten story tobacco building, when the guard fired at us. The ball just grazed Hendryx’s head and lodged in the ceiling above; all we could do to prevent Hendryx throwing a brick at the guard.
Feb. 27.—Organizing the militia; hauling artillery past the prison. Have a good view of all that is going on. Bought a compass from one of the guards for seven dollars, greenbacks; worth half a dollar at home. It is already rumored among the men that we have a compass, a map of Virginia, a preparation to put on our feet to prevent dogs from tracking us, and we are looked up to as if we were sons of Irish lords in disguise, and are quite noted personages. Cold last night, and we suffer much in not having blankets enough to keep us warm. The walls are cold and damp, making it disagreeable, and the stench nearly makes us sick. It is impossible for a person to
imagine prison life until he has seen and realized it. No news of importance. Time passes much more drearily than when on Belle Isle. Were all searched again to-day but still keep my diary, although expecting to lose it every day; would be quite a loss, as the longer I write and remain a prisoner the more attached am I to my record of passing events. A man shot for putting his head out of the window. Men all say it served him right, for he had no business to thus expose himself against strict orders to the contrary. We are nearly opposite and not more than twenty rods from Libby Prison, which is a large tobacco warehouse. Can see plenty of union officers, which it is a treat to look at. Hendryx had a fight with the raiders—got licked. He ain’t so pretty as he was before, but knows more. I am very wise about such matters, consequently retain my beauty.
Feb. 28.—Had the honor (?) of seeing Jefferson Davis again and part of his congress to-day. They visited Libby and we were allowed to look out of the windows to see them as they passed in and out of the building. Strut around like chickens with frozen feet. David Benjamin walked with the President and is a much better looking man. Prisoners were notified that if they made any insulting remarks they would be fired at. Have no more exalted opinion of them than before.
Feb. 29.—Excitement among the Johnnies—flying around as if the Yankee army were threatening Richmond. Cannot learn what the commotion is, but hope it is something that will benefit us. L : The occasion of the excitement among the rebels is that Dahlgreen is making a raid on Richmond, acting in conjunction with Kilpatrick, for the purpose of liberating prisoners. We are heavily guarded and not allowed to look out of the windows, nevertheless we manage to see about all there is going on.
Feb. 30.—Rebels in hot water all night and considerably agitated. Imagined we could hear firing during the night. This morning small squads of tired out union soldiers marched by our prison under guard, evidently captured through the night. Look as if they was completely played out. Go straggling by sometimes not more than half a dozen at a time. Would give something to hear the news. We are all excitement here. Negroes also go by in squads sometimes of hundreds in charge of overseers, and singing their quaint negro melodies. It is supposed by us that the negroes work on the fortifications, and are moved from one part of the city to another, for that purpose. Our troops have evidently been repulsed with considerable loss. We hear that Dahlgreen has been shot and killed. At the very first intimation that
our troops were anywhere near, the prisoners would have made a break.
March 1.—Working along towards Spring slowly. A dead calm after the raid scare. We much prefer the open air imprisonment to confinement. Have considerable trouble with the thieves which disgrace the name of union soldier. Are the most contemptible rascals in existence. Often walk up to a man and coolly take his food and proceed to eat it before the owner. If the victim resists then a fight is the consequence, and the poor man not only loses his food but gets licked as well.
March 2.—The food we get here is poor, water very good, weather outside admirable, vermin still under control and the “Astor House Mess” flourishing. We are all in good health with the exception of Dr. Lewis, who is ailing. I was never tougher seems as if your humble servant was proof against the hardest rebel treatment. No exchange news. Trade and dicker with the guards and work ourselves into many luxuries, or rather work the luxuries into ourselves. Have become quite interested in a young soldier boy from Ohio named Bill Havens. Is sick with some kind of fever and is thoroughly bad off. Was tenderly brought up and well educated I should judge. Says he ran away from home to become a drummer. Has been wounded
twice, in numerous engagements, now a prisoner of war and sick. Will try and keep track of him. Every nationality is here represented and from every branch of the service, and from all parts of the world. There are smart men here and those that are not so smart, in fact a conglomeration of humanity hash, as it were.
March 3. The ham given us to-day was rotten, with those nameless little white things crawling around through it. Promptly threw it out of the window and was scolded for it by a fellow prisoner who wanted it himself. Shall never become hungry enough to eat poor meat. Guards careless with their guns. An old man shot in the arm. Hendryx tried to pull a brick out of the casing to throw at the shooter. Barbarians these rebs.
March 4.—And now we are getting ready to move somewhere, the Lord only knows where. One good thing about their old prisons, we are always ready for a change. Have made many new acquaintances while here in Pemberton, and some agreeable ones; my boy Havens has fever and chills. Is rather better to-day. It is said we move to-night. Minnesota Indians confined here, and a number of sailors and marines. I am quite a hand to look at men, sometimes for hours, and study them over, then get to talking with them and see how near I was right in my conjectures.
Its almost as good as reading books. The Astor House Mess is now composed of but four members, E. P. Sanders, F. L. Lewis, Geo. W. Hendryx and myself; we still adhere to our sanitary regulations and as a consequence are in better health than a majority of those here. Sanders may be said to be at the head of the mess, (we call him Dad,) while Lewis is a sort of moderator and advisor, with Hendryx and myself as the rank and file. Are quite attached to one another, and don’t believe that either one would steal from the other. I certainly wouldn’t take anything short of pumpkin pie or something of that sort. Of course a man would steal pie, at least we all say so, and Lewis even declares he would steal dough cakes and pancakes such as his wife used to make. We are all well dressed, thanks to the Sanitary Commission and our own ingenuity in getting what was intended for us to have. False alarm of fire.
Routed at Midnight.
O C , March 7, 1864. We were roused from our gentle slumbers during the night, counted off and marched to the cars, loaded into them, which
had evidently just had some cattle as occupants. Started southward to some portion of Georgia, as a guard told us. Passed through Petersburg, and other towns which I could not learn the names of. Cars run very slow, and being crowded, we are very uncomfortable and hungry. Before leaving Richmond hard-tack was issued to us in good quantity for the Confederacy. Have not much chance to write. Bought some boiled sweet potatoes of the guard, which are boss. The country we pass through is a miserable one. Guards watch us close to see that none escape, and occasionally a Yank is shot, but not in our car. Seems as if we did not run over thirty or forty miles per day. Stop for hours on side tracks, waiting for other trains to pass us.
March 8.—Were unloaded last night and given a chance to straighten our limbs. Stayed all night in the woods, side of the track, under a heavy guard. Don’t know where we are, as guards are very reticent.
March 10.—Still traveling, and unloaded nights to sleep by the track. Rebel citizens and women improve every opportunity to see live Yankees. Are fed passably well. Lewis feeling poorly. Watch a chance to escape but find none.
March 13.—Ran very slow through the night, and are in the vicinity of Macon, Ga. Will reach our prison
to-night. Received a pone of corn bread apiece weighing about two pounds, which is liberal on their part. Two more days such riding as this would kill me. The lice are fairly eating us up alive, having had no chance to rid ourselves of them since leaving Richmond. One of the guards struck Hendryx during the night. We were talking on the all important subject, and the guard hearing us chatting away to ourselves struck over into the crowd where the noise came from and hit George in the back part of the head. He didn’t speak for a minute or two and I was afraid it had killed him, which happily proved to the contrary. As soon as it came daylight he showed the brute where he had struck him, and took the occasion to dress him down a little, whereupon the rebel threatened that if he said another word to him he would blow his head off. A drizzling rain has set in.
ANDERSONVILLE.
ARRIVAL AT THE WORST OF ALL PRISONS BEGINNING OF A SUMMER THAT KILLED THIRTEEN THOUSAND MEN BAD WATER, BAD FOOD, AND MOST INHUMAN TREATMENT IN THE CLUTCHES OF WIRTZ AND HIS PICKED OUT REBEL AIDS THE TRUTH AND NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH A SEASON OF INTENSE SUFFERING
C S , Andersonville, Ga., March 14.— Arrived at our destination at last and a dismal hole it is, too. We got off the cars at two o’clock this morning in a cold rain, and were marched into our pen between a strong guard carrying lighted pitch pine knots to prevent our crawling off in the dark. I could hardly walk have been cramped up so long, and feel as if I was a hundred years old. Have stood up ever since we came from the cars, and shivering with the cold. The rain has wet us to the skin and we are worn out and miserable. Nothing to eat to-day, and another dismal night just setting in.
March 15.—At about midnight I could stand up no longer, and lay down in the mud and water. Could
hardly get up. Shall get food this morning, and after eating shall feel better. There is a good deal to write about here, but I must postpone it until some future time, for I can hardly hold a pencil now. L : Have drawn some rations which consisted of nearly a quart of corn-meal, half a pound of beef, and some salt. This is splendid. I have just partaken of a delicious repast and feel like a different person. Dr. Lewis is discouraged and thinks he cannot live long in such a place as this.
March 16.—The prison is not yet entirely completed. One side is yet open, and through the opening two pieces of artillery are pointed. About 1800 Yankees are here now. Col. Piersons commands the prison, and rides in and talks with the men. Is quite sociable, and says we are all to be exchanged in a few weeks. He was informed that such talk would not go down any longer. We had been fooled enough, and paid no attention to what they told us. Our mess is gradually settling down. Have picked out our ground, rolled some big logs together, and are trying to make ourselves comfortable. I am in the best of spirits, and will live with them for some time to come if they will only give me one-quarter enough to eat, and they are doing it now, and am in my glory. Weather cleared up, and very cold nights. We put on all our clothes nights and
take them off day-times. The men do most of their sleeping through the day, and shiver through the long nights.
March 17.—Get almost enough to eat, such as it is, but don’t get it regularly; sometimes in the morning, and sometimes in the afternoon. Six hundred more prisoners came last night, and from Belle Isle, Va., our old home. Andersonville is situated on two hillsides, with a small stream of swampy water running through the center, and on both sides of the stream is a piece of swamp with two or three acres in it. We have plenty of wood now, but it will not last long. They will undoubtedly furnish us with wood from the outside, when it is burned up on the inside. A very unhealthy climate. A good many are being poisoned by poisonous roots, and there is a thick green scum on the water. All who drink freely are made sick, and their faces swell up so they cannot see.
March 18.—There are about fifteen acres of ground enclosed in the stockade and we have the freedom of the whole ground. Plenty of room, but they are filling it up. Six hundred new men coming each day from Richmond. Guards are perched upon top of the stockade; are very strict, and to-day one man was shot for approaching too near the wall. A little warm to-day. Found W. B. Rowe, from Jackson,
