Javier slid down under the covers until they were nose to nose. “Hey, you’re not just ‘a guy.’ You are important to me. You are the most important thing to me.”
Bowie’s whole body flushed at Javier’s statement. It still seemed so surreal that somebody like Javier could want someone like Bowie. “Still…”
Javier shook his head. “My uncle is a gun runner. A legal one, but a gun runner nonetheless. The hacienda he lives in? It’s a fucking fortress. His children? They have round the clock armed guards assigned to them through Elite. That’s how my uncle knows Linc and Jackson. He employsguerrerosfrom Elite’s offices because many of the companies in Mexico City think they’re above the law and my uncle likes giving the appearance of being on the right side of the law.”
Bowie sighed. “Doesn’t that just make this worse? You bringing me in there? He has enough to deal with.”
Javier gave him an exasperated look. “You don’t get it. Just being a wealthy man in Mexico City puts a target on their backs. That’s everyday life there. Believe me when I say he would be more insulted if I didn’t bring you to him.”
Bowie searched Javier’s face, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip before asking, “Does your uncle know you’re…gay?”
Javier smiled softly, sweeping his fingers across Bowie’s cheekbone, making his belly do somersaults. “Is that what this is about? You’re worried about outing me? My uncle knows I’m…sexually flexible. He doesn’t care. Nobody in my family cares. He’s had dinner with Jackson and his husband, Day, a dozen times. Linc and Wyatt, too. They love Day. MyTíaSylvia calls him feisty. Elite employs more gay men than straight. If my uncle had a problem with it, he wouldn’t have hired them in the first place.”
Bowie knew it was different when it was your kid, your family. His parents had always been…tolerant of gay people, but when Bowie came out, his relationship with his parents had soured almost instantly. But if Bowie was being honest, he was afraid, not of Javier’s family but just of the unknown. It was getting harder and harder to trust his own instincts. “I just don’t want to leave a bad situation for a worse one.”
Javier cupped the side of Bowie’s face, giving him that look that always melted all his resolve. “Look, I know American television likes to paint Mexico as either a spring break party place or some third world hell hole where everybody is a drug dealer, but that’s really only a small part of the states. Mexico City is beautiful and, while it’s not San Francisco, it’s fairly tolerant. There are plenty of out people in Mexico City. In all of Mexico, really.”
Bowie did want to meet Javier’s family, wanted to see where he’d spent much of his life. It would be nice to maybe get out of the country for a bit. “What about Blandley? I only just started therapy.”
“I’ll set it up so you guys can video conference as many times as you want.”
“Will the police even let us leave?”
Javier laughed. “Do you think I’m going to ask their permission? They didn’t tell us not to leave the country.”
“What about Odette and the girls? Who’s going to protect them?”
“Lawson does literally nothing but volunteer. I’ll make sure your girls are safe. Truthfully, nothing will make them safer than you disappearing for a while.”
“What if they, like, kidnap them and torture them for information?” Bowie asked, his imagination starting to run wild.
Javier chuckled, kissing him. “We’re not hiding, angel. I want them to know where we are. If they want you, they’re gonna have to come get you. In Mexico, his diplomatic immunity doesn’t mean shit. He loses it the second he crosses the border. Our president doesn’t like foreign agents acting with impunity in his territory. In this specific instance, that works in our favor.”
“Can I meet your mom?” Bowie asked suddenly, his gaze going to the picture on the little shelf by the door.
Javier’s face fell. “I don’t know.”
“Why? She lives in Mexico, doesn’t she? Does she live far?”
Javier closed his eyes. “No. She’s in Mexico City now, close to my uncle. She’s just…not well.”
Bowie felt sick at the words, dread pooling in his belly. “What do you mean?”
Javier shook his head, rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling. Bowie sat up, turning to face him, pressing a hand to his chest. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“My mom…” His hand flailed as he seemed to search for the right words. “Se le botó la canica.Here you would say she lost her marbles. She hears things. Voices. They tell her to do things. To herself. To other people. My uncle takes care of her. She’s in a really nice treatment facility. But she’s not always herself.”
Bowie’s fingers spasmed against Javier’s chest at the pain on his face. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. You didn’t know. I don’t talk about it. That picture up there, that was about two months after they’d switched her to a new medication. It was working, too. She was as with it as I’d ever seen her. I took her on vacation, just the two of us.”
“What happened?”
Javier shrugged. “Sometimes, meds just stop working. They don’t know why. About six months later, she was right back where she started. It was right before I went away the last time.”
“Have you seen her since you got out?”
Javier looked away. “No.”
