Page 102 of Dear Mr. Brody
He stared at the pile of fabric on the other table. “A little. It’s a great dress.”
I chuckled and bumped my shoulder into his. “I’ll make sure we use it. Thanks, Marcos, for all your help.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll never admit to saying this… but it’s fun. I wish there’d been a place like this when I was growing up. Maybe those teen years wouldn’t have been so difficult.
“Things could have been different for so many kids.”
“I mean, maybe there was something like this and I didn’t know,” he said. “Resources were shit back then. I’m glad Pride House is expanding.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Chance stood in the doorway covered in sawdust. “Rachel sent me in to tell you both, if you want food, you better get your asses in the kitchen.” He held up his hands when Marcos narrowed his eyes, and a small smile cracked through his rugged features. His sun-aged skin crinkled around his eyes. “Her words, not mine.”
“Thanks, man, we’ll be right there,” I said, and he nodded.
Chance rubbed his thick, dark beard, a habit I noticed he had, and sawdust sprinkled onto the floor. “We could use your help after lunch. The kids want to start building the ship.”
“As lovely as that sounds… I have… uh… a thing. Things, many things to do.”
Marcos flicked my knee under the table when I barked out a laugh.
“Marcos isn’t a fan of manual labor.”
“Bullshit,mijo. I can build shit just as good as this overgrown tree hugger over here. But I just got my nails done.” He wiggled his fingers. “Not wasting a perfectly good manicure.”
Jesus Christ.
“Overgrown tree hugger?” Chance asked, and by his deadpan expression, I had no idea if he was insulted.
“Sorry, my friend forgets social cues sometimes.” I stared at Marcos telepathically trying to tell him he’s dead to me if I get fired. “He doesn’t actually work here, he’s just a volunteer, we could throw him out.”
To my surprise, Chance chuckled, and I let out a relieved breath.
“It’s okay,” he said, pushing his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts. “I’m not offended.”
“See,” Marcos waved his hand in Chance’s general direction. “He’s not offended.”
“What about you?” Chance flashed his dark blue eyes in my direction. “Feel like pitching in?”
“Yeah… I can.”
His assessing gaze shifted back to Marcos, and then drifted to the table where the costumes were laid out. “We all have our talents,” he said almost to himself. The guy was kind of quiet, in a contemplative way. Not weird, but definitely an island unto himself. “Thanks for volunteering your time. I’m sure you have other things you could be doing on a Saturday morning.”
“It’s nothing.” Marcos attempted a bored expression, but I could see the pride in the way he held himself. Shoulders back, legs crossed. “I’m glad to donate my services for the greater good.”
Chance hummed and rubbed his beard again, his eyes trailing from Marcos’s cream-colored sweater down to his heeled feet. He pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “Don’t wait too long or the pizza will get cold.”
He turned to head back to the kitchen, and once he was out of ear shot, Marcos said, “Don’t look at me like that. That man looks like a bear, and not the fun, gay kind.”
“What if he fires me? You know he brought those two guys with him to work here. We’re overstaffed now.”
“He’s not going to fire you.”
“He could.”
Marcos flicked me again, this time on my nose, and I swatted at his hand. “He’s not going to fire you, drama queen. You told me the man traveled all over the world building houses for homeless people. He doesn’t have it in him to fire people.”
“Can you please just behave like a normal fucking human being for once and not be an asshole.”
“He’s wearing cargo shorts, Park. Cargo. Shorts.”