That day they’d found the dead bodies and the kayak, Joe hadn’t punched Flix hard enough. He ignored Marcus’s hand and pushed to his knees. Flix did the same, so they were eye to eye, inches apart.
“I know what Peter’s gone through.” Joe cut the words into knifepoints. “Don’t pretend like that’s your problem with me.”
Flix’s eyes never left Joe’s. His voice was low and rough. “I’m going to be taller than you soon.”
“And I’m still going to be the boss.” Joe closed his eyes and breathed deep, filling his lungs and clearing some of the anger from his mind. “We need to talk about this, Flix. I don’t like how things are between us.”
Navarro and Devin joined the group. Devin closed his big hand around Flix’s arm and dragged him to his feet.
“Muscles and I finished the setup Liliana wanted.” Navarro cocked his head. “Let’s take a walk, nuevecito.”
Joe didn’t want to walk, or even talk to Navarro. He wanted to hash it out with Flix, fix things. He wanted to sit next to Devin and enjoy some time together.
“Now,” Navarro snapped.
Devin smiled, tight-lipped and tense, and said, “I’ll hang out with Marcus and Flix until you get back.”
Navarro pointed with his cane and limped off.
“I’ll see you soon.” Joe wished he could touch Devin in public, show him that he was the most important piece of Joe’s life. Instead, Joe turned and followed after Navarro.
They headed away from the fire, back toward home.
Home?
Joe jogged to catch up. “What are we doing? I thought we got everything set up.”
“You’ll see.”
Navarro walked around back to the old air conditioning unit that sat rusted and useless up against the house. He climbed onto it, then stepped onto the dumpster he used for medical waste. From there, he grabbed hold of the roof and hauled himself up.
Despite his irritation, Joe was impressed with Navarro’s agility. He’d never imagined someone almost thirty could still be so lively, at least not the men who lived south of the wall. Plenty of their clients at Flights of Fantasy had been older men — most of them, in fact — but Joe had never considered a lifespan much beyond twenty-five, at least not for himself. If he lived that long, he’d like to be as smooth as Navarro.
For now, he clambered easily from AC unit to dumpster to roof. Like Navarro, Joe climbed over the roof’s peak and down toward the front of the house, facing the town, which looked better from up here, more organized and permanent.
Joe sat next to Navarro. The roof shingles scratched at his legs and ass. He rubbed a hand over the rough surface. Grit and dirt and red clay. “Why are we up here?”
“I want to get drunk. Can’t do that in front of the town.”
“And you think climbing up on a roof to do it is a good idea?”
Navarro looked at Joe and chuckled. The light from the bonfire extended much farther than Joe would have guessed, and it gave the barest hint of color and life to Navarro’s face.
“I won’t fall.” Navarro pulled a flask from his pocket and took a drink. He swallowed heavily, then offered the metal container to Joe.
Joe hesitated. He’d never indulged in anything that could alter his awareness, never taken the risk. Life was dangerous enough without making his mind hazy.
“Suit yourself,” Navarro said, pulling the flask back toward his lips.
Joe swiped it away and took a sip.
Ugh. His stomach dropped, and he fought the urge to gag. He tried to gather all his spit, lick the taste out of his mouth, and swallow it down.
Navarro took another swig. “You should see your face.”
“That’s disgusting. Tastes like dog pee.” Joe wiped his tongue on the back of his hand.
“Ha. You drink a lot of dog pee?” Navarro paused and tilted his head. “This stuff is pretty awful. I don’t even know what it is.”
Joe shifted on the scratchy roof and pulled up his knees. “Then why drink it?”
Navarro was quiet so long Joe thought he wasn’t planning to answer. Instead Navarro gazed at the stars. They weren’t visible looking straight ahead, but they glimmered in the deeper darkness behind and above Joe. The world at night always made him feel small — at least, when he had time to appreciate it.
“Did you ever just want to break away, be someone different?” Navarro asked.
“Are you serious?”
“If I wasn’t serious, I wouldn’t have asked.”
“I don’t know. I guess not. Not as an adult.” Before he’d been an adult, yeah, Joe had thought about it. Those years he’d been stuck in Austin with his stepmother, Maria, lived with her abuse after his dad had left, he’d thought about it a lot. But Navarro didn’t get to know about those times. “You do?”
Navarro handed the flask back over, and Joe took a tiny sip. He didn’t have to wipe off his tongue this time.
“Sometimes I don’t want to be responsible,” Navarro said.
“Responsible for what?”
Navarro waved his hand at the crowd around the bonfire. “Them. Sadie and Aria. You.”
Joe shook his head. “You’re not responsible for —”
“Don’t. Don’t even try to say what your smart mouth was about to say. I have been responsible for you since the day we met.”
Oh, God, so many things Joe wanted to say. You’re not responsible for me. You left me. You wanted to kill me. Each accusation died before he even halfway considered saying it. This was Navarro, and he beat himself up enough. “I have to leave this place, Navarro.”
Navarro fished a pair of thick glasses out of his pocket and put them on. The rims were made of metal with little circles along the stem. Navarro twisted one of the circles,
