by Jayne Rylon
James peeked down at the neat, precise instructions he’d written in the dot grid section of his planner. “Pretty sure.”
“If you get stuck, call back.” Sola handed him off to Jordan. “Hey, Boss, I’m putting James back on your line. And I take back my bitching from before… He doesn’t suck for a regular civilian. In fact, I give him an A+.”
Jordan came back. “Ah, sorry about that. Sola—”
“Doesn’t take any shit. I like it.” James grinned. “Thanks for the gear and the help connecting it to your system. We really appreciate you guys monitoring the feeds and making sure everything is on the up and up here.”
“It’s no problem.”
“Do you think there’s something to worry about?” James wondered.
“Not super likely. Middletown is pretty sedate. But it never hurts to be cautious. I’ve seen enough in my career to never take things for granted.”
“I bet. And on that note, I’ll let you get back to saving the world.” He couldn’t prevent just a little of his curiosity from spilling out first, though. “That is what you do, right? Do you have a whole team up there in your mountain mansion? And a command center or headquarters where there are all sorts of feeds coming in or what?”
“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” Jordan deadpanned.
“Was that a joke?” The more James thought about it, the more fascinated he was even knowing he should let it go.
Jordan simply laughed. “Yeah. Now go wire the rest of the sites. I’ll text you Sola’s direct number. Work with her if you need something during the process then send me a status update when you’re finished and we’re all set to go.”
“Will do.” James channeled his inner super spy. He could get into this.
“But for the record, I honestly believe we’re the good guys even if we sometimes have to stop people who aren’t.”
“That makes sense.” James knew Jordan had previously worked for the government and could imagine situations where knowing what was right didn’t mean you could do anything about it given the restrictions of your position. That would totally suck.
In the background, a man called for Jordan’s attention. “I’ve got to go. Good job.”
James sat there for a moment, staring at his disconnected phone. For the first time in a while, he felt like he might just have done something right and something kind of important at the same time. It was a satisfying combo.
With a wave to Devon, he strutted to his car then zoomed off to the next site, determined to reduce his install time at each location and only bug Sola for long enough to confirm each camera was functioning correctly before moving on to the next.
12
James had knocked out the surveillance installation in record time, or so Jordan had promised him in an impressed-sounding text. That had left him two hours to go home, eat lunch, take a shower, and get changed before he had to leave for the youth center.
His lingering confidence propelled him through those tasks and kept him from freaking out until he’d reached the parking lot of the youth center. Then, as he considered what faith Tom had put in him, James’s palms began to sweat. He wondered how much Tom would hate him if he backed out at the last second.
James wasn’t about to risk it, so he put on his big-boy panties and scooted out of his car pretending to be as brave as his idol, Robin, when he identified a hell of lot more with his alter-ego Dick Grayson.
James tugged on his plaid work shirt, which he’d buttoned up and tucked in as if that made him respectable or professionally dressed. He glanced around as he walked through the front door, then headed toward the back to the director’s office, as he’d been instructed in a text from Tom.
As he wandered through the facilities, he noticed most people were far more casual than him, trying to blend in with the kids who might not own much more than a well-worn pair of jeans and sneakers with a few holes in them.
Suddenly he felt like an idiot. This was about helping others, not boosting his own flagging self-esteem. And furthermore, he wanted to relate, not stick out.
He stopped in front of a window that looked onto a basketball court long enough to mess his hair up from the slicked-back style he’d combed it into after his shower. He untucked his shirt and opened the buttons so it hung open, exposing the white T-shirt beneath it. Better.
James took a deep breath, wiped his palms on his pants, then crossed to an open doorway in the general vicinity Tom had indicated. He knocked lightly on the jamb, then peeked inside where a woman a few years older than him sat, dressed in a T-shirt with the shelter’s logo on it. Her dark hair fell in natural waves around her face, and she smiled warmly before he could even start speaking.
“Good morning. I’m looking for Ms. Rodriguez.”
“That’s me. You must be James.” She waved toward one of the comfy chairs around her desk. He could tell she was good at her job, since even his nervous self settled in easily. The open and inviting atmosphere she established made him feel like he was pulling up a chair at a café to catch up with an old friend instead of being interviewed by a superior.
“Thanks for taking time to get me up to speed this afternoon. I heard you’re shorthanded as it is.”
“You’re welcome. We’re always glad to have more helping hands and kind ears around this place. Tom told me you’re interested in working with kids who’ve been bullied or are struggling with their sexuality.”
Well, that wasn’t exactly how it had gone down, but… “Those are certainly two areas I have experience in.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” She leaned forward and stared straight into his eyes. Bronze flecks shot through the deeper brown of her pupils, but that wasn’t the most remarkable thing about her stare. It was the kindness emanating from her that made him sure she cared about him as much as any other lost soul who walked through the doors of the youth shelter.
The same place that had been responsible for getting each of the Hot Rods off the streets and into a loving home where they had also discovered and bonded with each other. For a moment James wondered if Laurel could have been so lucky.
He cleared his throat, surprised by the jolt thinking of his long-lost sister could deliver even now, more than twenty-five years after she’d bailed on him. The ball of anger, dread, and sadness that encompassed his feelings about her bounced around his guts for a moment until Ms. Rodriguez interrupted his meandering thoughts.
“There’s a boy out in the workshop. He’s come in once or twice before, but usually to pick up a bag lunch. Yesterday was the first day he accepted our offer to stay for a while, and our counselors were…concerned. He’s showing an interest in the shop area. You are a construction worker, yes?”
“I was.” James cleared his throat. It seemed odd to think of it as a closed chapter of his life. “For more than twenty years.”
“Maybe you could teach him something about tools or see if there’s something he needs or wants to make. That part isn’t as important as spending time with him and maybe helping him realize that whatever he’s facing now is temporary. Tom was right. This seems like a perfect match to me.” Ms. Rodriguez smiled at James. “You’ll do great. Just be yourself. Most of these kids really only need a normal person to talk to.”
“Well, he’s probably screwed then. I’ve never been accused of being normal before.” James rolled his eyes.
Her smile only grew. “Fair point. Let me rephrase. Most of these kids need a kind, open-minded, rational adult to show them that the examples they’ve had so far in life are not what they should expect going forward.”
Right. Just like the Powertools had demonstrated to him how dysfunctional his own family had been. “Okay. I think I can pull that off.”
“I’m sure you can. The workshop is down the hall, second door on the left. Feel free to use anything you find in there, and we’re open to any and all suggestions about how we can improve it. Tom told me you’re extremely good at carpentry, even if you
’re modest. And Tom is a tough man to impress.”
“Thank you.” When James rose, he found his muscles were no longer bunched and he was actually looking forward to what he might be able to bring to the table saw, so to speak.
“Let me know if there’s anything you need.” The open-endedness of her statement gave James the impression that she wasn’t only talking about his assignment. He hoped Tom paid her as much as he could afford. She was worth it.
When James entered the shop, he identified the boy Ms. Rodriguez had been referring to without having to ask. Okay, he was the only person in there, slouched on a stool, inspecting the various stations from a distance. Still, the kid could have been a mirror reflection of James at that age, or maybe the ghost of the preteen who still haunted him from somewhere deep down in his subconscious.
At the sound of the metal door shutting, the kid’s eyes flashed around the room as if he expected someone to jump him. He’d gathered his backpack and the bag lunch provided by the shelter together and piled them on top of each other, between his legs, to keep anyone from stealing them.
He had not one ounce of trust to spare.
James waved as he approached slowly and kept his voice low. Thank God Tom had sent him and not one of the other, bulkier crew guys. Dave, although he was a gentle giant, would have probably made this kid piss his pants. “Hi, I’m James.”
The mop of unruly brown hair covered most of the kid’s eyes as he peered up and said, “Hey. I’m Mark.”
“Nice to meet you.” James checked out the workshop, which was no grungy, dusty hole in the wall. It was bright and recently painted with gently used, almost top-of-the-line equipment. Very nice. “This place is pretty sweet. It’s my first day here.”
“Really? Mine too, kind of.” Mark’s shoulders seemed to relax a bit.
“Yeah. I just moved to Middletown a few weeks ago.”
“Sorry. I’d give anything to get the hell out of here.”
James smiled sadly at that. “I remember feeling the same way when I was your age. But I guess I’ve learned that a place is mostly what you make of it. There’s nowhere you can go to escape yourself, and if you’re happy with who you are, you can do okay pretty much anywhere.”
“Hmm.” Mark didn’t sound convinced. That was okay—James didn’t blame him for doubting.
“So…did you have something in mind you wanted to build today? Or anything you’d like to learn about? I’ve worked in construction for, well, probably longer than you’ve been alive. Which makes me feel like an old fart.”
Mark laughed, and James thought he might have already won the day with that feat. “I, uh, wasn’t really thinking of anything specific. I just want to figure out how to do stuff that could maybe get me a job sometime. Maybe soon?” He seemed afraid to hope.
“Yeah, I could definitely help you with that. How old are you, anyway?”
“Fourteen.”
“Ah, I remember those days of constant wedgies from jerks at school and never feeling comfortable in my own skin.”
“Sucks.” The kid grimaced.
“Well, it gets better. I promise you that.” James realized it was true. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been made to feel awkward about being bisexual—although back then he probably would have said he was gay if someone asked—or poly or short or, well, anything really. That made him pause for a second then smile. He might not know exactly where he was going, but he sure had come a long way.
“All right. So, first let’s spend some time learning about safety and measuring. Then we can practice ripping some boards on the table saw before you get to experience the joys of sweeping up sawdust.”
Mark snorted and took the pair of safety glasses James handed him. After James had bored Mark with fractions, warnings about how easy it was to lose a finger, and the old measure twice, cut once adage, which gave the illusion that he was wise, he demonstrated how to set the fence and use a push stick instead of a bare hand to feed boards over the blade.
Mark had a keen eye, keeping the board tight to the fence when it tended to wander, and never once made James lunge for the kill switch. He soaked up information quick and had a natural talent for shop work. The time whizzed past as fast as the power tools, and pretty soon they’d whipped out a birdhouse.
“Come again tomorrow and you can paint it and install it out back, unless you have somewhere you’d like to put it at home. Maybe watching the birds would take your mind off things there when they’re not going so good,” James suggested, feeling lame because he couldn’t offer more.
“Wait, don’t you mean we? Or are you not working tomorrow?” Mark looked away, but not before James caught the disappointment in his gaze. Oh, damn.
“I’m not sure. I mean, I’m not actually staff here. I only stopped in today to help out a friend and…” Why? Why exactly had he come? It felt really unappreciative to say that he was searching for a new job because he wasn’t happy doing an honest day’s labor at Powertools, Hot Rods, or Hot Rides when he had all the things he thought he’d never find when he’d been Mark’s age. This, like the work he’d done for Jordan earlier, felt like he might be taking some baby steps in the right direction, though. “I guess I’m trying to figure out what to do with myself now that I’m here. My husband and wife have careers in construction. They’re working on the tourist center downtown and the new resort going up behind Hot Rods.”
“Wait. Did you say husband?” Mark tipped his head. “And wife? Is that a thing?”
“Anything is possible in life, I guess.” James sighed. “I’m a lucky guy.”
“Huh.” Mark was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “That’s really cool.”
“It is. And when I was in your place, I never would have believed it was possible to find one person, never mind two, who love me exactly as I am.” James smiled, still half-wondering if it could be a dream.
“Huh.” Mark’s eyes opened wider and he drew in a deep breath.
James beamed. “You’ll find your people someday. You just have to keep looking. Hell, I have a whole crew of friends now. And until then, you know, you’ve got skills. You could do great at this with a little practice.”
“Really?” Mark whipped his head up, his shaggy hair falling out of his face fully for the first time. He blasted James with a gaze so full of longing that it hit him square in the chest.
“Absolutely. If you want, I could talk to my crew about hiring you. I’ll have to check the rules and stuff but I’m pretty sure even at this age you’d be okayed to do crap jobs like sweeping up while they show you the ropes and get you trained to take on bigger tasks when it’s time. Kind of like an apprentice. What do you think?”
“I would love that, except…”
“Hmm?” James cocked his head.
“I’ve been thinking about maybe not sticking around Middletown much longer. I don’t want to waste anymore of my life here, especially not if my people are really out there waiting for me to find them.” Mark stared wistfully out the window.
“Are you talking about running away?” James’s heart kicked in triple time.
“Yeah. Not that anyone would notice I was gone.”
“They would. I’m sure that they would.” He could hardly breathe. He remembered what it had been like, watching their driveway day after day, year after year, praying he’d catch a glimpse of Laurel coming back home.
He never had.
“Okay, you’re right. They would and they’d be glad.” Mark looked away, but not fast enough for James to catch the sheen of unshed tears in his stormy gray-blue eyes.
His instincts and every bit of him that had mourned losing his sister so young wanted to argue, but then he had to take a deep breath and consider reality. The Hot Rods had come here and made something new for themselves, a better life. Only Mark really knew if the situation he was in was unbearably toxic and unhealthy. James couldn’t afford to fuck this up because of his own bullshit history and twisted feelings, which
could easily trip him up, getting in the way of doing the right thing for Mark.
“I’m sorry you don’t have the support you should.” James chose his words carefully even though he wished he could simply crush the kid in a bear hug and promise him everything would be fine someday. “If you need a place to stay, you should talk to Ms. Rodriguez. There are resources out there. People whose job it is to help you find shelter if that isn’t available to you at home. But please, don’t take off on your own. It’s not safe, and even if no one else in this town would care about what happens to you, I would. I can tell after hanging out with you just for a few hours that you’re awesome. Don’t let shitty circumstances convince you of anything else. You can’t control where you start out, but you determine where you end up, and I know you’re going to do great things. You have to do it the proper way in order to make sure you get where you’re meant to be.”
Mark’s breath hitched. He looked up at James with wide eyes and a single tear spilled down his cheek, breaking James’s heart.
“I’ve only just met you, but I can tell you’re a great kid. Fuck anyone who says otherwise.” James figured he probably wasn’t supposed to drop the F-bomb around kids, but it was the truth.
“Thanks.” The corner of Mark’s mouth kicked up in the hint of a smile and he wiped his face on the back of his too-short sleeve. “So, tomorrow…?”
The instinctive flare of emotions Mark had unwittingly triggered when he’d spoken of running away made it clear James wasn’t going to be a good fit for the center long term, and probably couldn’t be trusted to be unbiased even for a day or two.
“I don’t think I’ll be here. But I’m going to give you my email and the contact info for the Powertools office. I’ll put in a good word with the owners tonight, okay?” James hoped it was enough.
“Yeah. That’s great. Thank you so much.” Mark carefully folded the piece of paper with the information and tucked it into a zippered pocket on his backpack before patting the outside of it. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe things can be different if I’m patient enough.”