Chapter 11 Miguel

At the exact moment Miguel entered his room, his phone chimed with a new message. He snatched it from his back pocket and scanned the text. A wave of nausea washed over him, making him feel uneasy and angry.

Maria: Bently called looking for you. He said you guys made up.

Miguel gripped the phone tighter, his knuckles turning white as he moved towards the window. He stared at the endless stretch of beach, the normally calming scene now a blur of irritation. Instead of responding to the message, he phoned her seeking further clarification on this potential disaster. He had mixed feelings about Daddy Bently. The man had promised him so many things, then left him. Of course, he mentioned in passing Miguel could move to California with him, but there was no way he would leave his family and his Princeton scholarship. Then there was all the time without hearing from him. He left and never checked on him again.

A knot of anger tightened in his stomach, hot and acidic. "Maria," he forced out, voice strained.

"Hey! How's Seaside Heights treating you?" Maria chirped, obliviously.

Miguel closed his eyes, willing the anger down. "It's fine. Listen—"

"So, guess what?" Maria continued, her voice dropping to a whisper, "Bently said he moved back to New Jersey!"

Miguel's stomach lurched. An icy dread seeped into his chest, replacing the anger. "He did?"

"Yeah! I told him where you were staying." Maria's voice brightened. "I thought you'd be happy he moved back and wants to see you right away."

Miguel pinched his eyes shut for a few seconds, picturing the self-assured look on Daddy Bently's face. "No, Maria, I—"

"What's wrong?" Maria's tone switched from chipper to concerned.

Miguel threw his beanie onto his bed and ran a hand through his curls, frustration clawing at his throat. How to explain the agitated mess of emotions—the betrayal, the violation of his privacy, the fear? "I, uh, never said I wanted you to give him my location."

"Well," Maria huffed, "I thought you two were getting back together or something like that! That's what he told me, and you never said you didn't want him to know."

Miguel sighed, the anger sparking back to life. "There's a reason I said nothing, Maria."

"Ugh, what's with you?" Maria whined. "You always make things so complicated."

Miguel clenched his jaw. "It's not complicated. It's called boundaries."

Silence filled the phone line for a moment, then Maria mumbled, "Look, I messed up. I'm sorry, okay?"

Miguel let out a slow breath. He couldn't stay mad at Maria. "Just next time, please check with me first before you tell anyone where I am, okay?"

"Okay, okay, I get it," Maria grumbled. "I just thought you'd want to know. You always said you missed him."

Miguel scoffed, a humorless sound. "That was before I met Shamus." Shame burned in his gut, hot and unwelcome. He hadn't meant for things to move so fast with Shamus, but their connection had been undeniable. Now, his past was threatening to shatter everything.

"You met someone else? Is it serious? I mean, you just moved there."

"Don't worry about it."

"So, can I visit and meet Shamus? We can hit the beach, have some fun."

The thought of some normalcy, of spending time with his sister, was a balm to the prickling anxiety. A reluctant smile tugged at Miguel's lips.

"You're welcome to come, but I have a job now, so I won't be around much."

"Maybe I'll bring Sara with me. We can pack our sleeping bags. I'll let you know which weekend Uncle Javier can drive us down."

"That would be fine. Just let me know so I can be there to let you guys in or tell them at the check-in desk to give you a key. Okay?"

Silence stretched on the other end of the line. When Maria finally spoke, her voice was small. "That's fine. I'm really sorry, Miguel. I just wanted you to be happy."

Miguel's anger simmered again, ready to explode as he fought the urge to yell at her for jeopardizing everything. But a wave of helplessness washed over him, replacing the anger. "It's okay," he muttered, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "I'll figure it out."

He ended the call, tossing the phone onto the bed with a defeated sigh. How would he explain this to Shamus? How could he face him after this careless act by his sister? Miguel sank back onto the scratchy hotel bed, the once bright promise of the summer seashore now shrouded in a cold fog of uncertainty.

He called his friend Darren, eager to seek his advice.

"Hey, how's it going?" Darren asked.

"Got some trouble. Remember I said I met this new guy?"

"Yes."

"Maria got a call from Bently. He told her we were back together, so she told him where I'm staying."

"Fuck! I guess she didn't know you found someone over here so fast."

"He lied to her. We're not back together and never will be. He's never called me since he left. I don't want him back. I don't want him here either. I already invited Shamus to spend the night. I don't know what to do."

"Stay at my place until Shamus comes over."

"Where are you working tonight?"

"Roller coaster."

"I'll watch you, so I learn how to run it. I'll see you when I'm not with Shamus. Thanks."

"No problem."

Miguel made several phone calls to the New York City Community Center to explain he wouldn't be able to volunteer anymore. He felt like a total loser, despite having a decent excuse. Then he remembered everything happens for a reason—he met Daddy Shamus. He strolled leisurely along the bustling boardwalk, taking in the lively sounds of laughter and the enticing smell of freshly made cotton candy. He couldn't resist trying his luck at a few games before making his way back to the hotel. Once there, he settled by the serene pool empty of other guests, relishing the warm sun on his skin as he immersed himself in the pages of a captivating book.

He ordered a plate of nachos to snack on by the pool, savoring the crunchy sound accompanying each bite. When it was time to get ready for Shamus, he returned to his room and carefully combed his hair, ensuring every curl was in place. He slid into his tight jeans, feeling the fabric cling to his legs, and paired them with a green shirt that perfectly complemented his eyes.

An insistent rapping on the door sent a jolt through Miguel. He was already on edge waiting for Daddy Shamus. Miguel sprayed a misty cologne halo around himself. Daddy Shamus must have gotten off work earlier than he had expected. The thought of eating on the boardwalk with Daddy Shamus sent a knot of anxiety tightening in his chest. He would have to explain who Daddy Bently was, the ex-daddy who just happened to know where he was staying and could pop up at any moment.

Then, another knock, sharper this time, shattering his thoughts of explanation.

"Hold on, Daddy Shamus," he called out, shoving the cologne bottle into his bag in the bathroom with more force than necessary. He stalked towards the door and opened it to the unwelcome sight of Daddy Bently—smug and tanned, a walking California postcard, instead of Daddy Shamus.