by K J Bell
Brady chews on the skin around his thumbnail, while keeping his eyes on the road. He places his hand back on the wheel, then sighs and, to my surprise, answers. “She’s gone, and it’s my fault.”
“But you miss her?” I blurt out brazenly, unable to stop myself.
He shoots me a warning look and then returns his eyes to the road. “Every goddamn day.”
Of course I ignore the warning look. “But you broke up with her? If you miss her, why not get her back?” What the hell did I say that for?
That did it. I pressed too hard and he looks bothered by my pestering. “Like I said, she’s gone.” His left knee bounces nervously. “Can we change the subject, please?”
Though I want to dig deeper, it’s wrong. The subject is noticeably difficult for him. “Okay, sure. Where’s your bike?” This subject is one he enjoys talking about. Brady’s parents bought him a Harley Sportster when he turned twenty-one. It’s his baby and I’ve been wondering why he’s driving this truck.
“It’s not running right now.” His voice wavers, and his knee bounces faster. “I left it in L.A.”
Something’s seriously off. Maybe he’s still thinking about Vanessa. I shouldn’t have brought up her name. “I never thought I’d see you drive anything else.” The memory of him riding makes me flush. The first time I’d seen him on a bike, I knew I had a serious crush on him, and maybe I still do.
He shrugs. “We all gotta grow up sometime.”
What? His point-blank response completely floors me. His bike and his comments about his parents are somehow related, I’m certain of it. Maybe he racked up a bunch of tickets, or worse, got into a bad accident that was his fault.
Recalling many hours in my teens spent in the Hunters’ garage watching Brady and Jesse restore a couple of old bikes, I’m definitely not buying the “it’s not running” bit. Brady can fix anything wrong with a bike. If he left it in L.A., it’s for another reason. Presumably one he’s not willing to share.
Given traffic at the border can be horrendous, I’m hoping it’s calm tonight and we’ll be back in time for my date with Harrison. I consider telling Brady I have to be back, but I don’t, deciding instead to see how things go. If it looks like we’ll be late, I’ll text Harrison and let him know I can’t make it.
Crossing into Tijuana turns out to be a breeze. We drive slowly through the busy streets. A few street vendors harass us, hawking everything from giant stuffed cartoon characters to handmade jewelry. There are a few Federales walking the streets and sitting in Jeeps with semi-automatic rifles strapped to their chests. Even though I’ve been here many times, their presence always alarms me.
Once we travel into the neighborhoods, the streets quiet down. The buildings are rundown, and most don’t look habitable. It’s tragic that people have to live like this. Clothing hangs from balconies and clotheslines, and trash litters the streets. A few children play soccer on a small patch of grass in front of an apartment building. Their clothing is too small for them, and their faces are grimy with dirt. When I’m tucked safely away in P.B, I sometimes forget how much I have to be grateful for. Being in Tijuana helps me remember.
Brady watches me curiously, and I look over at him. “This is so sad, Brady.”
His brows crease together, and he gives me a thoughtful smile. “It’s all they know. They’re happy kids who love their parents, even if they don’t have the material things we do.”
Hmm. He brought up the “parent” word. Was that intentional? I’m thinking it was, but I don’t mention it.
The truck’s tires bounce over the cracked asphalt when we pull into a parking area. In the distance behind a grouping of trees is a large tan stucco building. It looks like it used to be a mission. Brady finds a place to park and gets out of the truck. While I’m still taking in my surroundings, he opens my door and helps me out. He hops up on one of the side tires, and pulls up three large trash bags from the bed. The bags land on the ground in front of me. He jumps down, smiles at me, and picks up the three bags by their plastic handles. After slinging them over his right shoulder, he takes my hand and starts walking toward the building. I decide not to ask about the bags or his holding my hand, opting to just go with it.
“Stay close, Tor. Tijuana’s not the safest place.” He gives my hand a pull.
As we get closer to the building, I see several kids are hanging out in front. They look to be between six and fifteen in age. When I get a better look at the building, I realize we’re at some sort of youth home.
“Brady!”
One of the younger boys runs up to us. If I were to guess, I’d say he’s about six. The little guy launches himself at Brady. Brady drops the bags and releases my hand to catch the boy when he jumps into his arms. Brady hugs him with a warmth that brings a large smile to my face. This is a side of Brady I’ve never seen before and I’m more than a little intrigued. Brady sets the boy down and rubs the top of his head a few times.
The biggest brown eyes I’ve ever seen are looking up at me. His toothy smile has a large gap in front. Permanent teeth have come in, and his mouth hasn’t quite grown into them. He’s completely freaking adorable, and I melt when he smiles. “Hey, Brady’s friend.”
“Well, hello to you, cutie pie.” I smile.
He rocks back on his heels with his head down.
Brady cups the boy’s shoulder. “Paco, this is my friend, Tori. Tori this is my little buddy, Paco.”
“Hi, Paco. It’s very nice to meet you.” I extend my hand to him.
Paco takes my hand and kisses it. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”
Brady laughs. “Easy now, Paco. Tori’s way too old for you, buddy.”
“Darn.” Paco hangs his head shyly, shifting back and forth on his feet. Another boy from a group of kids gathered a few feet away calls Paco over. Paco says goodbye and then skips over to the group.
I twist my head to look at Brady. “Oh, my God, he’s too cute for words.”
“Yeah, he’s a good kid.”
Brady picks up the bags, and we climb up the stairs, entering the building through the front doors. Brady sets the bags down and appears to be looking for someone. A desk sits on the right side of the room, adjacent with the wall, and a few plants are sporadically placed. Two doors to the left side are open, and rows of cots fill both rooms. Another door to the right is lined with tables, and I assume it’s a cafeteria.
“Brady, my man.” A thick Spanish accent greets us, and a man walks in from outside. He’s about Brady’s age, with clean-cut brown hair and dark eyes. Dressed in khaki shorts and a blue T-shirt, he looks casual. His smile is friendly.
He and Brady slap hands and exchange a bro hug. “What’s up, mi amigo? I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Yeah, I’ve been busy. I’m home for the summer, though, so I’ll be around,” Brady explains.
“That’s good to hear,” the man replies. His eyes meet mine, and I smile. “Who is this lovely señorita?”
Brady introduces me to the man. His name is Rodrigo and he runs the Center. I shake his hand and say, “This must be very rewarding work.”
“It is. I love these kids.” He spots the bags at our feet. “What did you bring us today, Brady?”
“I brought three bags of clothes,” Brady answers, and my smile grows. I’m not sure I know Brady at all. Really? Bringing clothing to orphans? Who is this guy?
“Thanks, man.” Rodrigo slaps Brady on the shoulder. “We can always use them.”
Brady shakes his head as if no thanks are needed. “I’m happy to help. You know that.”
A little girl bursts into the room. She must be about three. She grabs hold of my leg, hugs it, and smiles up at me. Her hair is in pigtails, and she is even more adorable than Paco. She’s giggling like crazy through her crooked teeth, and I think I’m in love.
Rodrigo says something to her in Spanish that I think is him telling her to kindly let go of my leg and introduce herself.
She releases my leg, an
d beams up at me. She starts speaking fast in Spanish and I try hard to follow along. I make out that she’s telling me her name is Camilia and it’s very nice to meet me.
In my best attempt to remember conversational Spanish, I respond. “Hola cariño, mi nombre es Tori. Es un placer conocerte también.” I’m fairly confident I said, “Hello, sweetheart, my name is Tori. It's nice to meet you, too.”
She giggles and runs off.
“Your Spanish is pretty good, señorita, but don’t let her fool you – she speaks English.” Rodrigo looks at Brady and nudges him in the shoulder. “You should keep Tori around, Brady. I’m thinking she’s the reason you look so happy.” He winks at me and then looks at Brady. “I have a few things to do. Feel free to show Tori around the place.” Turning to me, he kisses me on the cheek and says, “It was very nice meeting you. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” He ticks his head toward Brady. “Keep him in line, will you?”
I smile and nod. Little does Rodrigo know keeping Brady in line is a nearly impossible task.
Rodrigo leaves, and Brady is beaming. It’s apparent how much he loves this place.
“Camilia is so cute,” I rave.
“She is.” Brady smiles. “She’s Paco’s little sister.”
Now that he says it, I can see the resemblance. “What happened to their parents?”
Brady looks directly at me. His fingers curl around my ear, tucking away some loose strands of hair. His smile is feeble, warning me that what happened to their parents is something awful. “Their father was involved with the drug cartels. He was accused of stealing from them. He and the kids’ mother were gunned down in the street in front of their home. Paco and Camilia saw the whole thing.”
My heart swells. They’re only children. “God, Brady. That’s horrible.”
“Yes, it is. Thankfully, though, they have Rodrigo.”
When my eyes water, I let the tears fall. They’re too young and sweet to have witnessed such a horrifying scene. I can only imagine the terrifying nightmares they must have. “How long will they be here?”
Brady holds my hand, and I let him. It calms me. “Sadly, most of them will be here until they’re adults.”
“Don’t they have any other family?” I ask.
“A few do, but most of them don’t, and because of their age, no one wants to adopt them. People tend to want babies.”
I shake my head slowly. “That’s crazy, Brady. How can no one want someone as cute as Camilia?”
“That one’s tougher. She refuses to leave Paco. The families that want to adopt her don’t want both of them.” Brady smiles ruefully. His fingers trail down my cheek, and he cups my chin. “They have Rodrigo. He’s amazing with them. They are wanted and loved, despite what they’ve been through. While it’s not ideal, they have a home here.”
I squeeze Brady’s hand and try not to cry again.
Brady
Since her hand’s in mine, I keep it there, walking her outside to the back of the building. A basketball court is on one side and a semi-indoor soccer field on the other. It’s closed in, with wooden bottom walls and Plexiglas along the top. The field itself is turf, and older kids are playing a soccer game on it.
Tori’s eyes are wandering, absorbing everything. She smiles. If she’d seen it last year at this time, when it was nothing but dirt and trash, she would have been frowning. “This is amazing, Brady,” she says softly.
I turn, hearing footsteps behind me.
Juan nods as he approaches us. “Hey, ese, who’s your friend?”
I introduce Tori to Juan.
“Hello, Juan.” Tori shakes his hand and smiles sincerely. Her reaction fills me with pride. I knew I could share this with her without any judgment. It’s just not in her.
Juan is a rough-looking kid. At only fourteen, he’s completely covered in tattoos. Prior to living here, he was running the streets of Tijuana in a gang. After his girlfriend was shot and killed, he came here to see Rodrigo, looking for a way out. Rodrigo didn’t hesitate to take him in, and he’s making real progress.
“’Sup, Tori. Nice to meet you.” He smiles his “I’m still just a kid” smile. He tips his head my way. “You bring her here to show her all the stuff you built?”
“Just showing her around, Juan.” I didn’t intend for Tori to know I had anything to do with restoring this place. That will lead to questions, ones I can’t answer.
“Cool, I better get back to the game. Catch you later, bro.” He flashes a peace sign as he backs away.
Tori turns to me, wearing my favorite smile. “You did all this, Brady?”
I shrug. “I only donated the materials. The kids and Rodrigo did most of the work. A few of my buddies helped out, and it only cost me fish tacos and a few buckets of beer.”
“How did you afford the materials? They must have cost a fortune!”
I was afraid she’d ask me that. This is one of the many things I can’t share with her. “I had some savings. No big deal. It’s just money. Can’t take it with you when you die, and these kids needed something. Sports can keep you out of trouble,” I'm lying and misery comes over me as I do. I hate lying to her.
Her blue eyes light up. “It’s amazing. Does your family know?’
I tense immediately. My insides rumble, and I’m about to be an asshole. “No, and you can’t tell them, either. What I do is none of their goddamn business.”
She looks up at me and tilts her head to the side in confusion. “They’d be proud of you.”
I shake my head. “I do this because it makes me feel good, not because I need attention from my parents. So don’t fucking tell them. They don’t need to know. Besides, my mom would use it as a way to brag and fill up her social calendar.” Truthfully, my mother does know, and thinks this place is a waste of money. She hasn’t got one shred of concern for these kids or what it means to me to do anything for them.
Fuck, now I’m being a dick. I search Tori’s eyes to measure how angry she is, but they look calm.
“Give her more credit than that, Brady. She loves you.”
“She loves herself. Fucking drop it, Tori.” My voice booms. Her smile fades and it hurts to witness her disappointment, but she doesn’t know my mother like I do, and if I can help it she never will. Tori’s scared eyes look up at me, and her lip quivers slightly. “Jesus, Tori. I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It was wrong. I would like it if you kept this between us, please.”
“I won’t say anything,” she says softly, her face woeful and bewildered.
I have to learn not to be so reactive when she brings up my mother. She wasn’t intentionally trying to push me, and I need to remember that. She doesn’t know. I pull her close, and kiss the top of her head. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. She nods against my chest. I hold her close to me for a few minutes, afraid to let go for fear she’ll want to go home. When I do let go of her, she smiles and our minor argument appears to be forgotten.
When we’re back inside, I catch Tori looking up at the clock on the wall. Her eyebrows raise, and she looks around the room. It’s only six-thirty. I wonder if she has plans. I didn’t tell her how long we’d be gone.
“Is there a bathroom I can use?” she asks. I point to a door behind her.
“Thanks.”
As she walks away, I watch her. There’s a gracefulness to her stride that’s sexy as hell. Who am I kidding? Everything about her is sexy. As she slips through the door, I realize bringing her here may have been a mistake. I’m letting her get too close.
While she’s in the bathroom, I find Juan and tell him to round up the kids he knows need clothing. One of the best things about coming here is watching their faces light up whenever I bring them things. Sometimes it’s toys and books. Today, it’s clothing. They never seem to care what it is. They’re just happy to receive things.
Chapter 12
Tori
While inside the bathroom, I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and dial Harrison’s number. The ca
ll fails, and I notice there’s no cell service here. I decide to send him a text, figuring when we get in range, my phone will send it. Hopefully he’ll get it before he ends up at the Bean waiting for me.
When I return to Brady, he’s surrounded by a group of kids. They all wear big smiles. He’s distributing the clothes he brought with us. Brady Hunter has surprised me beyond belief tonight. I never imagined he had this in him. I can’t believe I never saw it. I’ve always thought he was conceited and shallow, but he’s undoubtedly more than the superficial front he puts up. He winks when he catches me smiling at him. The appreciation the kids show is inspiring. There’s no arguing about who gets what, and no complaining about brands or colors.
This whole experience warms my heart. Brady makes a difference with these kids. He might downplay what he does for them, but he’s changing their lives. He’s changing my life.
He finished, and the kids leave to put their new treasures away. Brady turns to face me, and the smile on his face is one I will never forget. He’s proud. I wish he’d share it with his family, but it’s not my place to push him. For now he chooses to share it with me, and I’m tremendously flattered he does.
Without caring whether it’s right or wrong, if I should or shouldn’t, I go to him and throw my arms around his neck. He lifts me off the ground and hugs me back, spinning us around. When he sets me down, his hand brushes down the side of my head, and stops on my cheek. “Thank you for coming with me. It means a lot to share this with someone I care about.”
He cares about me. I’m giddy with excitement. “I should be thanking you, Brady. This place is amazing, and what you do for these kids is something you should be very proud of. I’m proud of you.”
His smile widens, and I look away before I kiss him. Kissing him is all I can think about. I can’t though. I don’t want to send him running, and that’s exactly what will happen.
After saying goodbye to the kids and Rodrigo, we get in Brady’s truck, heading back to P.B., back to a place where things will be different between us. I don’t want them to be.