Flanked Page 16

  Marcus laughed again, and when he did, Joe caught the slight tightening of Flix’s fingers. Flix was mad at him, Joe knew, for not telling him about the chip and how unlikely it was they’d be granted citizenship in New America. And probably, too, for being unable to get Marcus help more quickly. Not that Flix had told him he was mad. Devin had. Flix had kept his distance whenever possible. No staring. No nervous babbling. No inappropriate touching. Joe didn’t miss any of those things, but he did wish he and Flix could be friends.

  He’d explain soon, make Flix understand; once Flix had left Flights of Fantasy, he couldn’t go back. None of them could. Whatever came next, it had to be better than the hell Boggs would inflict on them if he found them.

  Flix wouldn’t want to go north, though. He’d see it as futile. And now that Joe had promised Devin they’d leave Purcell, he had set himself up for a big problem with Flix.

  God, Joe wasn’t even sure he wanted to leave. He could be happy here, couldn’t he? Lil and Sadie were like family, and he respected Navarro, looked up to him in a way he’d reserved for only a few other people.

  He and Devin might be less conspicuous here. The town would learn to accept their relationship, if they gave it enough time.

  Joe grimaced. He hated lying to himself.

  He was scared. That’s why he didn’t want to go north. Scared of what he’d find. Scared he wasn’t smart enough. Scared he’d lose Devin. Staying here would be choosing the safe option, but he’d never be happy in a place like this. He wanted to know what the wider world was like, and he needed to know what had happened to his father.

  Besides, he’d made an enemy of Sanders. Joe wasn’t particularly afraid of the guy, but he didn’t want to cause trouble for Lil and Navarro or put Sadie in the middle of a fight. He had to leave.

  “Holy shit,” Flix murmured.

  Joe had been staring at the ground as he walked, watching for anything that might trip Marcus. He glanced up now and saw a large bonfire in the middle of the town, right on the highway. As he and the twins drew closer, Joe made out groups of people clustered around the fire, watching as men threw debris on the burning pile.

  He recognized the violinist, standing off to the left, as Mrs. Fonta, the woman who’d gotten burned in the sun and called him plastic. Her blisters had healed, and she smiled at the gaggle of kids who danced around her. Clara, the little girl who’d helped them when they’d first arrived, was one of the dancers. She skipped around Mrs. Fonta and, when she saw Joe, wiggled her fingers and stuck out her tongue.

  Joe returned the gesture and added an eye roll for good measure.

  Clara laughed and resumed her skipping. Her mother stood off to the side, speaking in rapid Spanish to two other women. When Joe caught her eye, she nodded.

  Joe and Flix helped Marcus to a spot at the edge of the bonfire’s heat. From here, they could observe and still be out of the way if anyone got rowdy.

  One of the Sons, rifle slung over his shoulder, walked past them. He dipped his head toward Joe and kept it down for longer than necessary for a simple greeting.

  “Hey, man,” Joe said. “Nice night.”

  “Sí, jefe.”

  Flix snorted, and the man straightened and walked away.

  Joe looked across Marcus to Flix. “What was that about?”

  Flix kept his eyes on the fire. “You have a little standoff with the Sons where you cowed that jerk Sanders?”

  “Word around town is you’re a badass motherfucker who don’t take no shit off a nobody.” Marcus barely made it to the end of the sentence before collapsing in giggles.

  Joe gently shoved him. “You don’t even leave the house. How do you know what the town thinks?”

  Flix pointed. “Sadie. Girl knows everything about the town.”

  Sadie and Peter were dancing near the edge of the fire. They held hands, and Peter twirled Sadie under and into his arms and back out again. Sadie threw her head back and laughed, then curled tight against Peter’s chest. He kissed her.

  Joe scrambled to stand, but Marcus caught his thigh.

  “Let them go,” Flix said. “God, Joe. What were you doing when you were fourteen? Same as me, I bet. Peter isn’t crying at night as much. He’s happy. And you’re not Sadie’s daddy.”

  True, but... “He’s not a runner. Neither is she. They should get to be innocent as long as —”

  Flix leaned over Marcus. He sneered, and it looked out of place on his soft, elfin face. “Peter’s family was murdered, and he was kidnapped and sold at auction. He doesn’t have any innocence left. If you got your head out of your ass and noticed someone besides yourself and Navarro, you might realize Peter needs this.”

  That day they’d found the dead bodies and the kayak, Joe hadn’t punched Flix hard enough. He ignored Marcus’s hand and pushed to his knees. Flix did the same, so they were eye to eye, inches apart.

  “I know what Peter’s gone through.” Joe cut the words into knifepoints. “Don’t pretend like that’s your problem with me.”

  Flix’s eyes never left Joe’s. His voice was low and rough. “I’m going to be taller than you soon.”

  “And I’m still going to be the boss.” Joe closed his eyes and breathed deep, filling his lungs and clearing some of the anger from his mind. “We need to talk about this, Flix. I don’t like how things are between us.”

  Navarro and Devin joined the group. Devin closed his big hand around Flix’s arm and dragged him to his feet.

  “Muscles and I finished the setup Liliana wanted.” Navarro cocked his head. “Let’s take a walk, nuevecito.”

  Joe didn’t want to walk, or even talk to Navarro. He wanted to hash it out with Flix, fix things. He wanted to sit next to Devin and enjoy some time together.

  “Now,” Navarro snapped.

  Devin smiled, tight-lipped and tense, and said, “I’ll hang out with Marcus and Flix until you get back.”

  Navarro pointed with his cane and limped off.

  “I’ll see you soon.” Joe wished he could touch Devin in public, show him that he was the most important piece of Joe’s life. Instead, Joe turned and followed after Navarro.

  They headed away from the fire, back toward home.

  Home?

  Joe jogged to catch up. “What are we doing? I thought we got everything set up.”

  “You’ll see.”

  Navarro walked around back to the old air conditioning unit that sat rusted and useless up against the house. He climbed onto it, then stepped onto the dumpster he used for medical waste. From there, he grabbed hold of the roof and hauled himself up.

  Despite his irritation, Joe was impressed with Navarro’s agility. He’d never imagined someone almost thirty could still be so lively, at least not the men who lived south of the wall. Plenty of their clients at Flights of Fantasy had been older men — most of them, in fact — but Joe had never considered a lifespan much beyond twenty-five, at least not for himself. If he lived that long, he’d like to be as smooth as Navarro.

  For now, he clambered easily from AC unit to dumpster to roof. Like Navarro, Joe climbed over the roof’s peak and down toward the front of the house, facing the town, which looked better from up here, more organized and permanent.

  Joe sat next to Navarro. The roof shingles scratched at his legs and ass. He rubbed a hand over the rough surface. Grit and dirt and red clay. “Why are we up here?”

  “I want to get drunk. Can’t do that in front of the town.”

  “And you think climbing up on a roof to do it is a good idea?”

  Navarro looked at Joe and chuckled. The light from the bonfire extended much farther than Joe would have guessed, and it gave the barest hint of color and life to Navarro’s face.

  “I won’t fall.” Navarro pulled a flask from his pocket and took a drink. He swallowed heavily, then offered the metal container to Joe.

  Joe hesitated. He’d never indulged in anything that could alter his awareness, never taken the risk. Life was dangerous enou
gh without making his mind hazy.

  “Suit yourself,” Navarro said, pulling the flask back toward his lips.

  Joe swiped it away and took a sip.

  Ugh. His stomach dropped, and he fought the urge to gag. He tried to gather all his spit, lick the taste out of his mouth, and swallow it down.

  Navarro took another swig. “You should see your face.”

  “That’s disgusting. Tastes like dog pee.” Joe wiped his tongue on the back of his hand.

  “Ha. You drink a lot of dog pee?” Navarro paused and tilted his head. “This stuff is pretty awful. I don’t even know what it is.”

  Joe shifted on the scratchy roof and pulled up his knees. “Then why drink it?”

  Navarro was quiet so long Joe thought he wasn’t planning to answer. Instead Navarro gazed at the stars. They weren’t visible looking straight ahead, but they glimmered in the deeper darkness behind and above Joe. The world at night always made him feel small — at least, when he had time to appreciate it.

  “Did you ever just want to break away, be someone different?” Navarro asked.

  “Are you serious?”

  “If I wasn’t serious, I wouldn’t have asked.”

  “I don’t know. I guess not. Not as an adult.” Before he’d been an adult, yeah, Joe had thought about it. Those years he’d been stuck in Austin with his stepmother, Maria, lived with her abuse after his dad had left, he’d thought about it a lot. But Navarro didn’t get to know about those times. “You do?”

  Navarro handed the flask back over, and Joe took a tiny sip. He didn’t have to wipe off his tongue this time.

  “Sometimes I don’t want to be responsible,” Navarro said.

  “Responsible for what?”

  Navarro waved his hand at the crowd around the bonfire. “Them. Sadie and Aria. You.”

  Joe shook his head. “You’re not responsible for —”

  “Don’t. Don’t even try to say what your smart mouth was about to say. I have been responsible for you since the day we met.”

  Oh, God, so many things Joe wanted to say. You’re not responsible for me. You left me. You wanted to kill me. Each accusation died before he even halfway considered saying it. This was Navarro, and he beat himself up enough. “I have to leave this place, Navarro.”

  Navarro fished a pair of thick glasses out of his pocket and put them on. The rims were made of metal with little circles along the stem. Navarro twisted one of the circles, and the lenses thickened.

  “What are those?”

  “Bioculens,” Navarro said. “Magnifies things. You need to stay.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You can’t afford to just think about yourself anymore. Those boys need stability.”

  Joe bristled. All he did was think about others. He hadn’t even wanted the kids to come, but ever since they’d joined him and Devin, he’d thought of almost nothing but protecting them. He swiped the flask from Navarro and took another, bigger, drink. “What is it you think I’ve been doing?”

  Navarro scratched his chin with the edge of the flask. “Look, I get that you got them mostly safely to Purcell —”

  “Do you? It doesn’t seem like it.”

  “But there’s more to taking care of children than just not getting them killed. They need a home, a family.”

  Joe barked out a laugh and rubbed his hand down his face. “I’m only four years older than them. I’m not... I can’t be someone’s father.”

  “I know,” Navarro said quietly. He took off the glasses and turned his gaze to Joe. “I’m not asking you to.”

  “You want me to leave them here.”

  “I want you to stay.”

  Joe inhaled sharply and curled in on himself. Pain came, so sharp and biting that it took his breath away. Navarro wanted him to stay. That didn’t seem... Navarro had said before that Joe should stay, but that wasn’t the same. Navarro wanted. Joe wiped at his eyes. It had been so long since someone had cared about him like a parent cares for a child. Selfless. Without expecting sex or protection or entertainment in return.

  When Navarro’s cool hand landed light and tentative between Joe’s shoulder blades, Joe shook a little from the crying and the alcohol, and burrowed his head between his knees.

  “Stay,” Navarro said again.

  Was this how it had felt, back before Joe’s dad had left? It must have been, because Joe couldn’t put a name to the warmth inside him, but it was familiar and sad, something he’d lost a long time ago. Little boy lost. Little boy come home.

  “The greatest regret of my life is that I thought about killing you,” Navarro said.

  Joe could tell Navarro wasn’t looking at him, didn’t expect an answer.

  Navarro tapped his fingers on Joe’s back. “I wish I could say I didn’t go through with it because I was morally strong. But it was because I was weak. God knows I’ve thought about what happened often enough to be sure.”

  Navarro had been Joe’s first friend when he’d come to Flights of Fantasy. Joe had been Navarro’s replacement, and Navarro already had Sadie and Aria to think about. He couldn’t afford to lose his job.

  “I never blamed you. I still don’t.” It had hurt, realizing that some part of Navarro’s kindness was an attempt to get close enough to cause him harm, but Joe had understood. He’d never fully trusted anyone again, not until Devin, but he’d understood. Family comes first. It should. “And you didn’t do it, obviously.”

  Navarro growled and pulled his hand away. “Not because I’m a good man. That’s what pisses me off about you. You should hate me, or at least think I’m a worthless prick. You still think I’m a good guy, you dumbass.”

  “That’s why you wouldn’t join the Sons. You wouldn’t hurt people to get ahead, even if they’ve got their foot on your throat.” Joe hadn’t put it together before, but it seemed so obvious now.

  “I was scared. Weak.”

  “Sadie told us what Aria did, how she hurt you.” Joe turned so he could see Navarro, who was still staring at the townspeople and the fire. “You stood up to an armed gang, and you didn’t back down, even if it meant losing someone you loved. That’s not weak, Navarro.”

  Navarro bit his lip. On his thin face, the tight clench of his jaw was obvious. “Lili and the girls. You. My mami. Everyone thinks the best of me despite all the evidence to the contrary. I wanted to get it right this time.”

  “Aria will come home.”

  “I hope so.”

  “She’s a smart girl.”

  “Says the smart boy.”

  Joe snorted and took another drink out of Navarro’s flask before handing it over. He was beginning to feel lightheaded. “Now you know what you’re talking about.”

  Navarro swallowed the drink and turned the container over. A drop or two fell onto the roof. He smiled, and it was the most relaxed, genuine smile Joe had ever seen on the guy. “I’m asking. Stay. Please.”

  It was the being welcome, the acceptance, that did it. The knowing he had a place, people to call home.

  Joe returned Navarro’s smile. “I can’t.”

  Navarro nodded and returned his gaze to the bonfire.

  Joe laid back and stared at the stars. He must have drifted, because the noise came in a dream of childhood, a soft buzzing of his father’s snores. It brought him just to the edge of consciousness when Navarro’s hand gripped his thigh.

  “No. No. No!” Navarro shouted at the night, and Joe sat up and rubbed his eyes.

  A muffled, mechanical voice spoke above the distant music, then the bonfire exploded.

  TWELVE

  Air rushed out of Joe’s lungs. A bell rang in his head, obliterating all other noise. Heat seared his skin, and a chemical stench overpowered his lungs.

  A drone dipped and delivered a second bomb. This one hit the other side of the highway, and a circle of houses was ripped apart. Bodies flew through the air.

  Numb pop-pop-pop noises filtered through Joe’s haze, and the drone fell.


  The bonfire. Devin. Oh God.

  Joe dropped his legs over the side of the roof and shimmied down until he dangled by his hands off the edge. He let go and fell, vaguely registered Navarro doing the same. But Joe was young and fit and fast, and as he ran toward the fire, where already he could see people lying still, he didn’t wait for Navarro to catch up.

  His fuzzy brain couldn’t focus. Where had Devin been?

  He’d been sitting with Flix and Marcus, away from the fire. That had to be good, right? They weren’t close, not like Peter and Sadie and the children dancing. Oh, God, please let the kids be safe. Joe made the sign of the cross and kept running.

  Up close, the bonfire debris had spread, thrown when the bomb exploded, so small fires simmered all over. People rushed about, the ones that were moving. Children, their faces screwed up, hands over their ears, crouched near the ground. Little Clara dragged at her mother’s arm, but the woman’s eyes were open, unseeing.

  Joe tore his attention away from the devastation and searched for the spot where he’d left his partner.

  They’d been sitting right there, between the green plywood house and the one made out of the doors of an old self-driving car, but the spot was empty. That must mean they hadn’t been too injured to move, but wouldn’t they have gone back to Navarro’s house? Why hadn’t Joe seen them? Had he run right past them?

  A pair of hands grabbed his shoulders, and he was spun around. Lil. Her face was covered in soot and her sleeve had been shredded, but she looked unharmed.

  “Devin?”

  She turned her palms up, shrugged, and mouthed, “Help.”

  Right. Help. Joe nodded, and Lil pulled him closer to the bonfire, into the thick of the bodies. Across the highway, he made out Navarro giving orders and tending the wounded. Aria stood at his side, assisting.

  Lil stepped over someone, Mrs. Fonta, and reached under her shoulders. Joe grabbed Mrs. Fonta’s feet and helped drag her over to Navarro. Her right arm was gone. Her eyes were wide and darting everywhere.

  “It’s going to be alright,” Joe said, but he thought it was a lie.

  Once they’d delivered her to Navarro, Joe turned with Lil back to the fire. So many people. He hadn’t even realized this many people lived in Purcell. He scanned faces, looking for Devin, for Flix and Marcus, for Peter. Lil jerked his arm, and they picked up someone else, dropped them off. Next person. Next.