Page 23 of Hidden But Not Safe

Naz looked away from that knowing gaze, rubbing a hand over his head and regretting it when it scraped again.

Diego laughed, his amusement irritating, but Naz refused to rise to the bait. Diego grabbed his toolbox and headed out to the motorcycle, leaving Naz to stew in front of the monitors.

At least Diego seemed to be in a better mood than when Naz had first arrived, even if it was at his expense.

Naz let his thoughts fade as he vaguely watched the monitors.

“What do you mean, he’s missing?”

The question through the speakers jolted him out of his semi-doze. He listened to the two women long enough to realize they’d lost track of the little boy. His eyes scanned the monitors, but the only other movement on the screen was Diego working on the motorcycle, barely visible on the edge of the camera pointed at the driveway.

Next to Diego, a little boy held on to a wrench.

Naz’s chest squeezed at the image. It brought up some of his best memories of his father. He’d spent hours out in the garage with his father, who took on small, private mechanic jobs to bring in more money. Most of the time it’d just been oil changes done on the cheap, but his father had enjoyed teaching Naz what he knew.

When Diego had offered the same for the motorcycle, Naz had been too scared to take him up on it. So many of his memories of his childhood were fractured. The clearest ones of his father were of the garage. He’d been afraid those images would blur with ones of Diego, and he’d lose the last proof that there’d been a before.

Before the fear and the humiliation and the fading hope.

His eyes strained to bring the images of Diego with the boy closer. Something about the peace on the child’s face filled his stomach with coiling snakes. Was it jealousy? Or regret?

Diego had often offered more of a relationship than Naz had taken him up on. Part of it had been shame. Diego had seen Naz at his worst, faded away until he hadn’t even felt human anymore.

Naz wondered when he’d see his friend and not remember that moment. He doubted it would ever happen.

He expected the jeering voices to suck him down again.

Instead, all he heard was his father’s laugh, a wisp of memory of the man Naz wished he had become. His father’s patient cadence while he’d explained things, not the exact words but the sound of them, filled Naz’s mind. He settled in the chair, watching Diego and the boy until the woman eventually found her son to take him back home.

When Naz returned to the warehouse, dusk had already fallen, and voices drifted from the trailer with the full kitchen. The crew was probably eating dinner, which Naz didn’t take part in anyway. Having people around while he ate made it harder to concentrate on the physical movements that he strained to do: opening his mouth, getting the food to his throat, swallowing.

Chewing was too much. He swallowed things whole or ate mushier foods. Ramiro kept him stocked up on special protein powder made out of vegetables and beans or something. It tasted like crap, but it had helped him to bulk up over the years.

Naz made his way to the opposite trailer, the one with the full bathroom and shower, the plastic bag from the store rustling in his grip.

José lounged inside on the couch Naz never sat on. When Naz entered, the other man scrambled up, muttered some half-assed excuse, and let the trailer door slap shut behind him.

José was a couple years younger than Naz and nervous as hell—especially around him. José and Julio were related in some way, but Naz never paid much attention to details like that. He’d rather José remained scared of him than get to know the guy.

In the bathroom, when he stared into the half-rusted mirror over the sink, he saw one of Meg’s Post-its stuck there with a lipstick mark pressed into it like the one she’d left for him. Naz was tempted to shove it into his pocket with the others, along with that damn giraffe. The Post-it hadn’t been given to him, though. Unless it was meant for him, it shouldn’t be with the rest.

When he removed the gel shaving cream and the new razor from the bag, he ignored the three packets of gummies he’d also purchased. Maybe he’d just leave them there and let her find them when she showered.

He felt the rasp of stubble as he lathered his head. He had shaved himself bald regularly, ever since Diego had found him. It wasn’t just the way his hair had been used against him that made him do it or even the lice infestation. No, one man had always liked the way his dark curls fell around his face. It made him appear younger, even when he’d aged out of the man’s normal range.

Naz started on the back of his head near his neck, the hardest part because of his scar. Having to concentrate, along with the steady pull of the razor, cleared his mind.

He nearly nicked his ear when the bathroom door ripped open.

“You’re back.” Meg didn’t say it in a squeal or a scream but with a breathy relief that Naz didn’t know how to take.

His eyes found hers tracing over him in the mirror as if she were drinking him in. She wasn’t smiling.

Meg shut the door behind her, crowding them into the small space together, a fierce scowl taking over her face.

“I knew Julio was being an asshole. He said you were gone. That you got sick of me.”

Naz paused at the hitch in her voice. She wasn’t looking at him anymore. She leaned her head back against the empty towel bar instead. A groan escaped from between her lips.

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