Made In Manhattan (Made In Series Book 2)

by Ana Newfolk

“Confess what?”

  His face went red.

  “That night at the club. I knew we needed to be quick or we’d risk losing the kid again.”

  “Yes…” What was he getting at? What did this have to do with Max?

  “I was kind of jealous when I saw you with the guy. You were so focused on him like the club could have caught fire and you wouldn’t have noticed.

  “I made it look like… maybe me and you were together. I saw the light in his eyes disappear. You were so focused on the missing kid you didn’t even notice, and I was just glad I had a genuine excuse to get you away from him.”

  “Fuck, Fred. Seriously?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Jesus.” I rubbed my hands over my face. I didn’t want to be mad at Fred because the outcome would have been the same. I would have looked out for the kid every time. “Frederico Mendes, you owe me big time for that stunt.”

  “You name it.”

  Chapter Three

  Max

  Manhattan, September

  “You look like shit.”

  I chuckled. “Thanks, I love it when you shower me with compliments.”

  Jacki was the new head nurse and fast becoming a good friend.

  “I mean it, Max, when was the last time you went home?”

  “Eight hours ago.” I rubbed my eyes and scratched my growing stubble, knowing my answer wouldn’t placate her. Going home for a shower after doing a double shift and coming right back to the hospital didn’t count as going home in Jacki’s eyes.

  “Max,” Shelly, one of the other nurses, called out from a consultation cubicle.

  “Coming right up, Shell.”

  Jacki put her hand on my arm. “Max, you’re a brilliant nurse, but you’re close to burning out. Take a day off before I make you.”

  I gave her a quick hug before walking toward Shelly.

  One of my favorite things about this hospital had been working with Joel’s mom, Sílvia. When she’d died, I’d thought I wouldn’t be able to work here again, and for a while I hadn’t been able to get through a whole shift without breaking into tears.

  Sílvia had been more than a friend or a mother figure. At work she’d been my mentor and without her there I’d started doubting myself all the time.

  When Jacki had arrived at the hospital, it was like a new version of Sílvia had joined the team. They had different ways of working, but their approach with the nurses was very similar. Jacki was firm but fair and made sure we were always fighting fit.

  She was right; I needed a day off. If nothing else, I was dangerously close to running out of clean underwear.

  I’d help Shelly out with this patient and then I’d go home.

  Shelly met me halfway to the cubicle, which meant whatever she wanted to say she didn’t want the patient hearing. The curtain was closed all the way around the bed but it wasn’t soundproof.

  “What’s up, Shell?”

  “We have a kid in there, looks to be around sixteen or seventeen. He came in with hypoglycemia. He was shaking and dizzy at work. Apparently his boss knows he’s a diabetic and gave him some orange juice but it had no effect so they called the emergency services.”

  “How is he now?”

  “He’s stable, but…”

  “But?”

  “He’s not talking to anyone. Earlier I thought I caught a few words when he was on his cell phone. They were definitely not Spanish so I’m wondering if he’s Portuguese or Brazilian. I thought maybe you could try talking to him.”

  I loved the chance to speak Portuguese.

  When I’d hung out with Joel at his place after school I’d had to learn. Sílvia had had this rule that Portuguese was spoken at home and made no allowances for me, which now I really appreciated. Despite my heavy accent I was comfortable speaking Portuguese to a native level.

  I asked Shelly to give me a few minutes alone with the kid and walked to the cubicle, pushing the curtain aside to go in.

  Shelly was right, the kid couldn’t have been over seventeen. His thick dark-brown hair almost covered his assessing brown eyes that looked at me with clear distrust.

  “Olá, o meu nome é Max e eu sou enfermeiro neste hospital.” I said my name and that I was a nurse at the hospital.

  His eyes went wide. So he understood Portuguese. One point for Max.

  “Can you tell me your name?” I asked, now in English.

  “Diogo.”

  “Diogo, do you know why you’re here?”

  He nodded.

  “Has this happened to you before?”

  Another nod.

  “The last time Mom got…”

  He looked away as a tear ran down his cheek before he wiped it clear too quickly.

  “I lost someone who was like a mom to me at Christmas. It hurts a lot. Is that what happened to you?”

  He covered his face with his hands, small sobs escaping him. I pulled a chair next to the bed and sat down.

  “I’m eighteen, I can look after myself,” he said with defiance although he didn’t look like he was convinced of that.

  “I have no doubt of that, Diogo. How about we have a chat and hot chocolate? I’ve been here since yesterday and could do with a treat.” I got a small smile. Two points for Max.

  I found Shelly at the nurses’ station, updating her patient notes.

  “Hey, Shell, you know the kid in C2?”

  “Did you get any information out of him? We need to call someone.”

  “Sounds like he lost his mom, possibly quite recently, and I’m not sure he has any family. Before we call Social Services can I do some digging? I have a gut feeling this kid has already been on his own a little while. I just want to make sure he gets the right kind of help.”

  “Max,” Shelly warned, “you can’t save all the kids that come through the door.”

  I ran my hands through my hair, reminding me I’d recently got rid of my longer locks in favor of a low-maintenance, shorter style. I sighed. “I’m not trying to save him. I think calling Social Services may not be the right thing this time, besides, he says he’s eighteen. If he’s telling the truth, we can’t do anything he doesn’t want.”

  “First of all, you owe me one. Second, if you call Jean-Paul to help the kid you have to make sure I’m on shift so I can get my fix of his sexy French accent.”

  “Deal.” I smiled and stretched over the desk to give her a kiss on the cheek.

  “And if you want to keep your nuts attached, please tell Jacki.”

  “Love you, Shell,” I sang as I walked in the cafeteria’s direction to grab two hot chocolates.

  A renewed rush of energy ran through me. Nothing gave me more pleasure than supporting my friends’ work with the Center and getting involved with helping kids in need. If I was honest with myself, I liked it even more than being a nurse.

  Diogo’s eyes lit up at the sight of the hot chocolate.

  “Sorry, buddy, I asked them to go easy on the chocolate because we’re still monitoring your sugar levels but it should be nice enough.”

  He blew the steam off the hot drink and took a small sip.

  “It’s nice, thank you. Are you going to call Social Services?”

  “Diogo, I have friends that can help you. Since you say you’re eighteen, we won’t call Social Services but I’d like you to speak to my friend Jean-Paul. Why don’t you have a rest today and we can talk again tomorrow. We’re keeping you in for observation, anyway. I’ll be back in the morning, okay?”

  “Thank you, Max.”

  “Be nice to the nurses and they’ll bring you more hot chocolate tonight,” I said before heading out.

  There was no way I’d have a day off tomorrow. The thought pleased me more than it should.

  Using work as a way to stop thinking about Isaac wasn’t healthy and Jacki was right, I was close to burning out, and I knew at some point I would have to get used to spending time with myself outside of work. Today, however, wasn’t the day things would change, bu
t I could still do something for myself, I thought as I walked past my usual subway station toward Joel’s apartment.

  “Sorry to interrupt your sexy times but I’m in need of pastries,” I said into the intercom. I heard a huff before they buzzed me in.

  David opened the door, looking like he’d been in the middle of a good and thorough make-out session. His hair was sticking out at all angles and his lips were swollen from kissing.

  “Dude, at least make sure you do up your fly before you open the door.” I grinned as I walked past him. He scrambled to check his jeans.

  “It is done up,” he grumbled.

  “Yup but now I know what you were up to a minute ago.”

  “Stop teasing my boyfriend or there’ll be no more pastries for you,” Joel said from the kitchen where he was filling three cups with freshly brewed coffee.

  I still couldn’t believe how happy my best friend was these days. Love suited him, or maybe it was who he was in love with.

  “David, what have you got for me today?”

  Since they’d come to New York, I’d got into the habit of dropping by with the excuse of having some of David’s amazing bakes.

  “We’re going to Jojo’s house for the weekend at the end of the month. Join us?” Joel asked, knowing I loved to visit his late grandmother’s house in the Hamptons.

  “Not sure I can. I’ll have to check my shifts.”

  Joel gave me a knowing look.

  “Maximus, it wasn’t a question.”

  I laughed at one of the many variations on my name. Years ago we’d spent a weekend trying to come up with nicknames for each other. I’d settled on Joebug for him, but he couldn’t make up his mind. I thought it was cute.

  “It sounded like a question,” I said, stuffing my mouth full of the blueberry muffin David put in front of me.

  I got another knowing look, this time from David.

  “Look, guys, things are really busy at the hospital at the moment so I’m not sure I can take time off. Plus, this kid came in today and—”

  Joel raised his hand to stop me.

  “Maxwell, you forget my mother worked in that hospital. Do you think I wouldn’t check your shifts before making plans?”

  Damn, he’d caught me there.

  In reality, I wanted to spend as much time with them as possible because I knew this was temporary. They were due to head back to Portugal in November and there was no guarantee they’d be back anytime soon.

  The thought of Joel all the way in Portugal made me want to cry. For someone who was born and bred in Manhattan, how the hell did my heart end up on the other side of the ocean?

  I decided to get myself out of this funk since it wouldn’t help anyone.

  “Sorry, Joebug, I’d love to go to the Hamptons with you.”

  I hugged my friends and left to go home. That laundry wouldn’t do itself.

  Chapter Four

  Isaac

  Lisbon

  “Merda!”

  The swear word followed by a cloud of white powder coming from the desk opposite took my attention from the spreadsheet I was working on.

  I couldn’t help laughing at the sight of Tiago covered in the white stuff that moments ago had been contained inside the stress ball he squeezed more often than not.

  He took off his dark-rimmed glasses. His big brown eyes were the only part of his face that wasn’t covered in white.

  “I told you that would happen one day,” I said, still laughing.

  Tiago was shooting daggers at the remains of the ball as he got up to go toward the staffroom.

  “Those fucking bigots, bastards, sons of a…” he carried on as he went through the door.

  When he came back, he was wearing a different shirt and his face was now clean even though his nearly black hair still had some white streaks. He was swearing to himself while he cleaned his desk with more force than necessary since the light powder was flying up in the air again.

  I went back to my spreadsheet, deciding to wait until he calmed down to ask him what had got him so angry.

  That wasn’t until he’d left the Center and come back ten minutes later with two custard tarts from a nearby café.

  “What’s up, Tiago?”

  “Those fuckers at the food bank. I emailed them last month to see if they’d partner up with us by supplying food for our residential kids in exchange for volunteers to help with their soup kitchen for the homeless.”

  “I thought they ignored you.”

  “They did, until today when they emailed me to say they aren’t able to support our cause because they don’t agree with our lifestyle. When we start supporting the genuine kids in need of help, they will be more than happy to partner up with us.” Tiago held up his hands in quote signs when he said the word genuine.

  I sighed. Tiago had been excited about his proposal to the food bank director. I thought it was a genius idea to exchange the one thing they had plenty of—food—for something we had plenty of—hands willing to help.

  “I can’t say I’m completely surprised; I thought they had ties to some religious group,” I said.

  “I know, but I didn’t think they’d decline to help us.” He ran his hands through his hair. That was when I noticed how tired he looked.

  “Tiago, why don’t you go home? You’ve been glued to that computer all day.”

  “I can’t, I have a meeting later with an agent who works with Fred. She believes she has a lead but needs more information from me.”

  “On your brother?”

  “Yeah.”

  I saw both the hope and despair in his eyes. Tiago had been searching for his brother for years, and while his hope wavered sometimes, his search never let up for a single moment.

  “Besides,” he said. “I thought you were going to David’s café to check on Bruno and see Teresa.”

  Tiago was right, I was due a visit to Café Lima, but as much as I wanted to check on the young man I’d helped secure a job in my best friend’s café, I wasn’t looking forward to the possibility of seeing David’s uncle.

  When my parents kicked me out at seventeen, David was the only person I could go to for help. Unfortunately, on that day as I was telling David what had happened, Mário came in the apartment and kicked me out in a barrage of homophobic slurs.

  Without a place to stay I’d ended up on the streets for the following three months. Fortunately, David found me and hid me away at his apartment until I could move out on my own.

  When David had come out to his aunt and uncle earlier this summer, his uncle revealed that he’d had a long-lost younger brother that was gay. After he’d been seen kissing another man their father had beaten him up so badly he’d ended up in hospital from where he’d subsequently run away.

  The events somewhat explained his uncle’s behavior, but even after all these years it was still hard to face the man that had made me homeless for the second time in one night.

  His wife, Teresa, was entirely different. She was a petite but strong woman who’d been a second mom to David, and since we’d met she’d been nothing short of kind.

  It was incredibly generous of Teresa to take in a troubled young man as a trainee in the café she’d managed since her sister died thirteen years ago.

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” I said. “I could do with checking in on Bruno and see how he’s doing. Call me later if you want to talk, yeah?”

  I grabbed my stuff to leave. “Tiago, call me,” I said with my hand on his shoulder. Meeting someone who claimed to have some kind of lead on his brother’s location was always hard on him, especially as none had ever led to his brother.

  I’d been coming to see Bruno at the café ever since he’d started his apprenticeship with David this summer but so far I had never bumped into Mário. I wasn’t sure if it was by design or coincidence but I was glad. It still didn’t stop my heart beating a tad faster every time I approached Café Lima.

  Bruno was behind the counter serving someone when I w
alked through the door. The smell of coffee and freshly baked pastries made my mouth water.

  “Hi, Isaac,” Bruno said as I approached the counter, “would you like a coffee? Or a pastry?”

  “Did you make these?” I asked, pointing at the display of mouth-watering custard tarts.

  “Yes, this is a new batch I made this afternoon because we ran out in the morning.”

  Bruno was one of my success stories. He’d grown up with his grandparents and like many kids that came to us he had been kicked out for being gay.

  He attended all David’s cake-making classes and wouldn’t stop asking for more. When David had been looking for extra help for the café, Bruno had been an obvious candidate.

  “I will definitely try one of your custard tarts, and I’ll have a coffee too,” I said. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m great. I was super nervous before David went to America. I thought people would stop coming here and wouldn’t buy the custard tarts because David didn’t make them.”

  “If you had to make a new batch this afternoon they must be popular with the customers.”

  “I guess,” he said shyly.

  “Is Teresa around?”

  Just as I asked, Teresa came out from the kitchen with a little boy behind her.

  I greeted her with a hug and a kiss on her cheek. She smelled like flowers.

  “Boa tarde, my dear, have you come to check in on Bruno?”

  “Looks like I don’t need to. Does David know his custard tarts are no longer the most popular?”

  She looked at Bruno with adoration. She knew how hard he’d had it and was clearly proud of him.

  “And who’s this young man?” I asked.

  The little boy couldn’t have been older than five, and hid behind Teresa before running behind the counter and holding on to Bruno’s legs.

  “Isaac, this is Filipe. He’s my brother,” Bruno said, his voice faltering like he was afraid to give me the news.

  When I’d met Bruno, he’d reassured me he was no longer living with his grandparents, but that he was safe. He’d never mentioned a brother, let alone a very young one.