Navarro stopped in front of the house with the blue paint and removed a pair of gloves and some ointment from the bag in Joe’s hand. “Peter’s the kid? Tough times, that one. And Devin’s the one you’re...” He wriggled his eyebrows.
Navarro had been terrible with names as long as Joe had known him. It was why Joe and Sadie had started calling each other Weasel and Mole, to tease Navarro.
“Yep.”
“You’re playing with fire when it comes to that one. Muscles attracts too much attention with all that blond hair. The kid you can play off as pale Mexican as long as no one sees his eyes.”
And this was appropriate to talk about in public? “Thanks for the unsolicited advice.”
Navarro’s hawkish eyes raked Joe’s face, and Joe had to fight not to look down. Navarro had always been able to make him feel like a child.
With a sigh, Navarro knocked on the door. “It’s Dr. Suarez, Mrs. Fonta. May I come in?”
A feeble noise came from inside, and Navarro opened the door.
The windowless room reeked of piss. A pile of tattered clothes and blankets sat in one corner, and a small stock of Insta-food bars and vegetables filled another. As the door swung shut, the pile of blankets moved. The room plunged into a darkness rendered incomplete by gaps in the corrugated metal walls.
Joe fished in Navarro’s bag and pulled out a small flashlight. He flicked the switch and shone the light toward the blankets. Mrs. Fonta flinched and shielded her eyes with a bloody, blistered hand.
He covered the light with his t-shirt. “Sorry.”
Navarro snapped on his gloves and knelt next to Mrs. Fonta. “Mrs. F, this is my old friend, Joe. He got into town yesterday, and he’s helping me take care of everyone while he’s here.”
“Hello, Mrs. Fonta. It’s nice to meet you.” Joe smiled.
The woman’s dark, blistered face twisted. “You look like one of those plastic boys. Homosexuals.”
Joe worked to hide his shock. Gay had been flung at him like an insult before, but no one had ever implied he “looked” gay. He wasn’t even sure what that meant. Flix and Devin couldn’t look less alike.
“Gay men make good caregivers,” Navarro said mildly as he lifted Mrs. Fonta’s arm. “You’re looking better. I’m going to apply the ointment, okay?”
“Yes, sir.”
Navarro smoothed a thick yellow paste over the woman’s arms, neck, and face. Puffy blisters covered every inch of her cheeks, enough that Joe had trouble guessing the woman’s age. She ran a hand over her short, kinky curls, making the hair stick out an inch from her scalp in all directions.
Navarro applied the ointment to Mrs. Fonta’s ears, then patted her knee. “That’ll do it. Stay indoors until I can get you the DFI.” He removed his gloves and gestured to Joe. “Thank you for helping.”
Joe hadn’t done anything except shine the light. He nodded anyway. “No problem. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Fonta.”
Joe and Navarro stepped out into the sunshine and headed north.
“You did good.”
Joe squirmed in the pleasure of Navarro’s praise. “Thanks, but I didn’t do anything.”
“Keep being polite. That’s all we need.”
Oh. Joe should have realized this was a ploy. “Did Lil even have mayoral duties today?”
“She’s sleeping in. You’re helping me from now on. The more you’re out and about, doing good, the more at ease the town is with you. We start with you and work in the other boys over time. Build trust.”
Joe stopped walking next to a violently orange house made of plastic storage tubs. “I’m not staying here. You understand that, right? You told me, even, that we needed to leave.”
Navarro grunted. “That isn’t what I told you, nuevecito. You know you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met?”
Joe had heard that from Navarro before. What followed was never complimentary. “Yeah.”
“You’re also an idiot. You know that, too?”
“You’re the only one who thinks so.”
“I said you shouldn’t have come. I said I didn’t know what to do with you. That was all. Lili and I figured out a solution now, so you can stay. All your little traveling freak show friends can stay, too, even Muscles.”
Damned Navarro. He would probably let Joe stay so they could be miserable together.
Navarro pointed off to the east about a hundred feet across the highway. “See the greenhouse? I need to pick up something.”
The greenhouse stretched almost as big as Navarro’s house. Clear film wrapped around the metal frame. A high, peaked roof with concave arcs on each side reminded Joe of his old church. Inside the greenhouse, rows and rows of plants grew, green and lush. Navarro rapped on the door and, when a young woman opened it, motioned for Joe to enter.
The air in Joe’s lungs grew heavier. His skin prickled.
“Weird, right?” Navarro said. He brushed beads of sweat from his upper lip. “It’s humid. Lots of water vapor in the air.”
“I know what humid means.” Being with Navarro brought out Joe’s mostly tamed nerdy desires, made him act like the know-it-all kid he’d been in Mrs. Gomez’s third grade class, raising his hand and shouting out the answers to everything before any of the other kids got a chance.
“Well, you get a gold star.”
Joe wanted to steal Navarro’s cane and smack the smirk off his face. Instead, he ambled down a row of broad-leaved, furry-stemmed plants with yellow, five-point flowers attached to small, nubby...somethings. He ran his finger over one.
“Cucumbers,” Navarro said from over Joe’s shoulder. “Taste good but make me burp. We’ve got these, carrots, acorn squash, strawberries, a few lemon trees, okra — which is disgusting, kale, spinach, potatoes, bell peppers, and green beans. We’re saving up for some more varieties of fruit.”
“Where did you get all this?” Joe couldn’t picture the Sons hauling all these plants from wherever they got supplies. The greenhouse at the Flats had been big, but nothing like
