Nobody’s Hero

by J. Leigh Bailey

  “Pepé?” Brad was completely lost.

  “Pepé, the dog,” Danny said, adjusting his grip on his squirming niece, who was still pulling away from him. “I think she wants you to hold her.”

  Pepé yipped and sat on his haunches, furry tail wagging furiously.

  “Ah...okay.” Brad studied the toddler and tried to determine the best way to hold her without breaking her. The second he put his arms out, she launched herself out of her uncle’s arms and into his. Brad grunted at the unexpected weight. She was more solid than she looked. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs gripped him at his waist.

  Brightly colored cartoon character barrettes decorated her black hair. Large eyes, nearly as dark as her hair, dominated her chubby face. She was simultaneously adorable and terrifying. Growing up, it had just been him and his older brother. There weren’t even any cousins, so he’d never been around babies.

  Danny looked on with a smirk.

  She giggled and cuddled close, resting her head on his shoulder. The scent of soap and maple syrup enveloped him, oddly comforting. “Here.” He tried to hand Veronica back to Danny. She tightened around him like a boa constrictor.

  Danny stepped forward. He reached over and tried to pull her away from Brad. “Veronica,” he said in a firm voice, “go back to the kitchen. Abuelita will be looking for you and I’ve got to show Brad around.”

  Her bottom lip stuck out, but she relaxed her hold on Brad’s neck and let her uncle set her on the floor. The terrier, apparently happy to have someone on his level again, jumped up, his whole body quivering in excitement, then raced around Veronica’s legs. His long pink tongue darted out, catching the toddler on her ear. She squealed and raced to the other side of the house.

  “Sorry about that,” Danny said, stepping aside and gesturing Brad to follow him. “Mamá watches some of the grandkids a few days a week.”

  “No problem.” Brad trailed behind Danny, racking his brain for a way to say what needed to be said.

  They passed the living room again, but instead of heading straight on toward the front of the house and the door, they followed a connecting door into a dining room. The farther they went, the stronger the scents of apples, cinnamon and brewing coffee grew. Brad’s mouth watered, even though he’d already had a muffin and a glass of orange juice.

  The dining room led to a huge kitchen bursting with color. Dark reds and golds on walls and blue floor tiles painted with flowers. A short, plump woman with shoulder-length curls had a phone perched between her ear and shoulder. Her hands were busy kneading dough on the counter and flour dusted her arms up to the elbows. She let loose a rapid stream of Spanish as she slammed the dough onto the yellow counter.

  At Brad and Danny’s entrance she looked over and waved in acknowledgment before saying goodbye. “Danny,” she said, “grab the phone for me.”

  Unlike her husband or son, whose accents were mild, she had one thick enough it took Brad a minute to understand what she’d said.

  Danny grabbed the phone and set it on the counter a safe distance away from the flour. “Mamá, this is Brad. Papá hired him for the summer and is going to rent him the garage apartment.”

  “Hello, Mrs. Ortega.” Brad held out his hand.

  She didn’t have the same outgoing personality her son and husband had, but there was a pure mom-vibe that made him immediately comfortable. She couldn’t have been more than five foot two, but there was a no-nonsense attitude about her. He figured she could probably accomplish anything she put her mind to, including riding herd on some forty-odd relatives at a family gathering.

  She looked up at him with a warm smile. “Welcome,” she said, reaching for a towel, wiping her hands. She shook his hand with a strong grip.

  “Call me Anna. You let me know if you need anything, yes?” Her chocolate-dark eyes assessed him. “You are too skinny. You need to eat more.”

  “Thank you.” Brad took his hand back.

  “I’m going to show him the apartment and help him get settled,” Danny said. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

  “Wait,” Mrs. Ortega said. “I have food.”

  Brad didn’t know what that meant, but by the indulgent look on his face, Danny did. Brad glanced between the two Ortegas and rolled the employment papers nervously in his hands.

  Mrs. Ortega went to a cupboard and pulled out a plastic grocery bag, then went to the freezer and started filling it with an assortment of containers. With each one she announced its contents—frijoles, empanadas—before setting it in the bag. She moved on to the pantry and pulled out a loaf of bread, some individual boxes of cereal and a package of tortillas. She pulled out a couple of gallon-size resealable bags, then filled one with half a dozen fresh muffins. In the other one, she put a bunch of grapes. She handed the bags to Brad.

  “Oh, but I can’t—” he began.

  “Of course you can,” Mrs. Ortega said.

  “But—”

  “Don’t bother,” Danny said. “This is what she does.”

  She nodded. “Welcome,” she said again. “Eat more. Boys your age need much food, and you’ll be working hard for Hector. Now go get set up. You need anything, come down and let me know.” The oven buzzed and she turned away from them.

  “Come on.” Danny tucked the frozen meals under his arm and snatched a set of keys from a peg board next to the house phone. He led the way through a door that opened into a huge backyard. At the far side of the grassy expanse stood a large swing set, complete with attached slide and monkey bars. Next to it was a big tree, perfect for climbing. Brad could just make out a platform nearly hidden in the thick summer leaves. A cement walkway led away from the house to the back of the garage. Wooden steps gradually turned into a small deck, leading straight to the door of what was clearly the garage apartment.

  “You’ll be able to access the stairs from the front yard,” Danny said, pointing to a gate in the chain-link fence separating the front yard from the back. “There are motion activated lights around the front of the garage, so if you come back late, don’t be surprised. Also, you’ll want to probably keep the curtains pulled on that side. If someone else sets off the lights, they’ll shine right through to the bedroom. Well, it’s not really a bedroom since the apartment is just one big room with a closed-off bathroom, but one corner has the bed and a small dresser.”

  “You guys get people in here every summer?” Brad asked when they reached the top.

  “Pretty much,” Danny said, unlocking the door. “Summer’s the busy season. Papá usually hires a few college kids for the season and sometimes one will rent the apartment. It’s not much.” Danny swung the door open and stepped aside for Brad to go in.

  “I don’t need much.” Brad had expected something barren, something basic. A single room with a cheap carpet and an exposed light bulb. He hadn’t expected an honest-to-goodness apartment. The place looked more comfortable than the dorms he’d viewed online when searching for a university. Glossy wood floors covered the entire space, with a large round rug in the middle of the living area. There was a couch and a small chair sitting at an angle from a slightly beat up old coffee table. A desk and a lamp occupied one corner.

  The room may have been one big space, but it was clearly divided into different sections. The dining area connected to the living area. A small two-top table with mismatched chairs sat next to a dorm-sized refrigerator/freezer combination with a matching microwave on top. A small cupboard was built around a sink with a tiny patch of counter next to it. The bedroom area had a double bed with a patchwork quilt that looked handmade. A wooden armoire and dresser filled in the small alcove created by the walled-in bathroom.

  “Wow, this is great.” Brad set the forms—now crumpled in places—on the desk and tried to smooth out the wrinkles he’d caused. The contents of the bags he’d looped around his wrist to free u
p his hands clanked.

  Danny looked around as though considering. “Yeah, it’s not too bad.” He walked over and stuck the frozen meals into the mini-refrigerator’s tiny freezer.

  Brad dropped the bags of food onto the small table and began to explore the space, Danny shadowing him. He was only putting off the conversation they needed to have, but he needed to check the place out, right?

  He opened the cupboard and saw a couple of plates and bowls, a few glasses and coffee cups. One coffee mug held a handful of silverware. A dish rack sat in the sink, and a bottle of dish soap rested next to the faucet. Walking across the room, he opened the door to the bathroom. Everything was clean and serviceable. Nothing flashy—the shower curtain was plain white plastic—and there was a green mat on the floor in front of the shower. There was no counter space, but a sink with a mirrored medicine cabinet filled in most of the room outside the toilet.

  Unfortunately, it didn’t take long to complete the tour. Danny leaned against the desk, his hands tucked into the pockets of his cargo shorts. Didn’t he realize how strange this was? Brad paced the small space again.

  “I was wonder—” Danny began, but before he could finish the thought, Brad interrupted. “I need to ask—”

  Danny gestured for him to go on and Brad cleared his throat. “Ah...I need to ask a favor.”

  “Sure thing. What do you need?”

  Was every person in the family so damned friendly? So helpful? “Well, could you maybe not—I mean, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t, you know, tell anyone. About me.”

  Danny furrowed his eyebrows. “Tell who what?”

  “Anyone. That I’m gay. I know I said I am, and I am, but I’m not...completely comfortable with people knowing. That’s why I said no last night. About seeing you again, I mean. I hope it doesn’t make things, you know, awkward at work.”

  “You don’t think it will matter to mi papá, do you? He won’t care, I promise you. It won’t matter to anyone else, either. I told you last night, my family’s cool about it.”

  “No, that’s not it.” Not exactly. “But thanks for not telling your dad not to hire me.”

  “That’s his business. I stay out of it. He’d be pissed if I tried to influence him over something as silly as whether a guy would go out with me or not.”

  Brad nodded. “I want—need—to keep being gay sort of private. I’m not going to lie about it or anything, but, well, things’ll be better if it’s not general knowledge.” Brad held his breath, waiting for a reaction.

  Danny’s dark eyes looked sad. “All right. It’s your call.” His lips twitched. “I’ll warn you, though—after they meet you, the women in my family are going to try and find you a nice girl to settle down with. If you want me to save you from their matchmaking, let me know. I’ll grab your ass or something and they’ll get the hint.”

  Brad forced a chuckle. Anything to lighten the mood. “I’ll risk it.”

  Suddenly mariachi music exploded from Danny’s pocket. Danny pulled his phone out. “Bueno, Mamá.” He listened, his grin growing wider by the second. “Sure. I’ll... Yeah, Mamá, I’ll make sure he does.” He winked at Brad with the last sentence.

  Danny disconnected the phone and looked at Brad. “I’m supposed to tell you to come to the barbecue tomorrow. She and my dad want to introduce you to the family.”

  Brad flinched. Not that he took Danny’s threat of matchmaking seriously, but he couldn’t imagine facing the Ortega clan. “I don’t know. I’m an employee, not a family friend...”

  “I’m also supposed to tell you she won’t take no for an answer, so don’t even try to get out of it.”

  “But why do they want me to meet the family?”

  “Didn’t you know?” Danny swung his arm around Brad’s shoulder. “We’re like the mob. Once you’re here, you’re family. You’ve been adopted, buddy.”

  Chapter Five

  Bradley, the email began, I don’t know why you have chosen to throw aside your heritage, everything we have worked so hard to achieve.

  Stupid. Brad stared at the glowing laptop screen and cursed. He should have known better. After Danny left, Brad had put away a few things, then set up his computer to check his email. He hadn’t expected much. He’d closed all of his social media accounts two years ago and he hadn’t shared this particular email address with anyone. It was the secret account he’d used only with Carson. He’d kept it on the off chance—the very unlikely, extremely off chance—his ex-boyfriend would try to contact him.

  He hadn’t heard from him in over two years. Brad had no idea how to get a hold of him, and God knew Carson wouldn’t want to get in touch. But Brad left the account open just in case.

  When his inbox had updated, he found the normal selection of spam offering him everything from penis augmentation to cheap medications from Canada. He deleted them as he scrolled down the page. Then he’d seen the name. Patricia Greene.

  How had his mother gotten this email address?

  Why would she email him?

  Heart pounding wildly, he’d clicked the message open and stared. It had taken a while for his brain to force the jumbled words into some kind of recognizable order.

  Words like disrespectful and intolerable jumped out at him. He was about to delete the message before finishing it when something else caught his attention. Nolan’s appeal is being held in August. We expect you to attend the hearing and present a united family front. Your attendance is required. If it weren’t for you and your deviant behavior, your brother wouldn’t be in this mess.

  The world around him paused, stilled as the last paragraph cycled through his brain.

  Appeal.

  Family support.

  Deviant behavior.

  And right there was the reason he’d hidden his homosexuality from the family. His mother had a deep, uncompromising hatred for gays. Deviant. Disgusting. Disgraceful. Brad figured it had something to do with her social ambitions, but even considering that, her views skewed further to the right than all but the most extreme of her conservative peers.

  He’d known how they felt, but he’d been an idiot. He figured he could still have a boyfriend. What they hadn’t known shouldn’t have hurt them, right? So he and Carson had sneaked around, kept everything on the down-low. They’d kept in touch with secret email accounts and disposable cell phones. It had been pretty exciting. And more than a little stressful. All their precautions hadn’t been enough, though. And because he’d wanted it all—his family’s ignorance and a relationship with Carson—Carson had nearly been killed.

  He slammed his laptop shut. He was breathing hard, sucking in oxygen through a constricted throat. The apartment was too small. He needed to get out.

  Without a real plan, he went to the armoire and snatched up his running clothes, then changed into them with a haste that made it difficult to get the shorts on without tangling them around his ankles.

  Digging into one of the pockets of his computer bag, he pulled out his iPod. One of the ear buds caught on the zipper of the pocket, pulling tight before it snapped up, whipping across his cheek. He didn’t even flinch. He turned on the power and dialed up the volume until it was loud enough to drown out his thoughts. Two seconds later he was out the door and running down the sidewalk, away from his memories.

  * * *

  Danny climbed the wooden steps to the garage apartment. It was Saturday and Brad didn’t know anyone. Besides, no one should have to spend Saturday night alone, at least not when there were better alternatives. It seemed like Brad had spent way too much time alone.

  He gave a quick knock on the door and waited. When there wasn’t an answer, he knocked again. The place was small, so unless the dude was parked on the toilet, it shouldn’t take him long to answer the door. When there was no response to his second knock, Danny leaned over the edg
e of the railing to make sure Brad’s truck was still sitting in front of the house. It was, so Brad hadn’t gone anywhere.

  Random images—everything from Brad slipping in the miniscule shower to a drug overdose or Brad choking on Mamá’s apple muffins—flashed through Danny’s head. Before he could knock again or run into the house to search for the spare key, he heard Brad at the bottom of the steps.

  “Hey. What’s up?”

  Danny looked down and nearly swallowed his tongue. Madre de Dios. Brad stood at the bottom step, chest heaving, sweating from head to toe. His short hair lay plastered to his head and he braced his hands on his hips as he tried to catch his breath. While Danny stared, Brad lifted one leg until it rested on a step at about waist-level and lunged forward, stretching.

  Brad wasn’t a big guy, maybe an inch or two taller than Danny, and not particularly bulky, but the muscles in his arms and legs were clearly defined, especially as he flexed and stretched. Danny adjusted his T-shirt, hiding the effect of his close inspection.

  “Something wrong?” Brad stood up from the lunge and switched legs.

  “Ah...” Danny cleared his throat. “No, nothing’s wrong. I was coming out to see if you wanted to do something tonight. You know, get out of here for a while. Were you out running?”

  “Yeah.” Brad straightened, then started up the stairs.

  “Why, for God’s sake?”

  Outside of work, Danny tried to avoid any extraneous physical activity he could. Someday he’d have to do the three-days-a-week at the gym thing to stay in shape, but until that sad day, he’d take advantage of being young and having good genes.

  Brad shrugged. “I like it. It helps me think, helps me not think—you know, whatever I need at the time. It’s good exercise. Why not?”

  Danny gave a mock shudder. “Well, better you than me.” He might avoid exercise, but Danny didn’t have any problem appreciating the results. He eyed the play of calf and thigh muscles as Brad climbed. Calf muscles led to thigh muscles. Thigh muscles led to... He shook his head. No. No ogling. He couldn’t help himself, though. He had to peek. Crap. The loose shorts didn’t do anything to showcase Brad’s ass.