Bruce Brody's Guide to Romance: Issue Two

 

From the Pages of The Scrap Pile

Landshark

in

“Bruce Brody’s Guide to Romance”

 

By Kurtis Kenobi

 

Issue Two: Throwing the Shark a Dog

 

Present Day

Lightfoot Island

Bruce Brody’s Rockefeller Flats Apartment

 

 

 

        

        

         “Sharks love chocolate chip cookies.”

         That’s what Bruce Brody told himself as he shoved the baking sheet into the oven.

         A workout at Beta City’s KA-POWer Gym would have burned off today’s frustrations, but that meant taking a ferry to the mainland. Across the water. Wasn’t gonna happen!

         Stress baking and punk rock music were the next best things.

         Nothing complicated, mind you. Frozen cookie dough. Extra walnuts. Three hundred and fifty degrees. Voila! Sweet chocolaty goodness.

         Bruce folded his arms across the apron stretched over his bare chest. Kiss the shark, it declared. His t-shirt hung neatly from the oven handle. Aprons were washable. Favorite shirts deserved protection.

         The timer dinged.

         Bruce reached into the oven with bare hands. The baking sheet hit the stovetop with a metallic clang!

         “Right.” He brushed his fingers on the apron.

         Oven mitts.

         Not much more than a hot sting. Shark nigh invulnerability had a way of letting Bruce forget to follow normal person rules.

         The heavy rumbling guitar of The Stooges growled from the house speakers until-

         Click!

         The music switched to a sultry Spanish bolero.

         Bruce froze. Someone else was in his apartment.

         Either an intruder with no appreciation for fine music…

Or Jay!

         Bruce stuffed an entire molten cookie into his mouth and marched toward the living room.

         “¡Hola, mi Bruce!” Jago Ramirez stood next to the aquarium, feeding the seahorses, two mandarin dragonets, and a large snail. “Scratch and Sniff looked hungry.” He wore his usual black leather jacket, embroidered guayabera shirt, and crescent moon pendant. A neatly trimmed mustache and goatee framed a grin that lit up the apartment.

Bruce felt a quiet quake ripple. Not beneath his feet. Rumbling in his chest.

“Mmmm…” The dark guapìsmo closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

         “Chocolate chip? Before noon? Swim class was no bueno?”

         Bruce chewed sadly.

         “The YMCA… invited me not to return.”

Jay winced. “Ay…”

“They will contact Torpedo about the Scrap Pile’s insurance.”

“…Ay.”

         “I really wanted that shark badge.” his shoulders sagged.

         Jay’s smile melted into something warm and sympathetic. “I am sorry, Papi Shark.”

His dark curls were brushed back with obvious effort, but they had already escaped again. He swept one unruly curl behind an ear. Two more dropped onto his forehead. Defiant little krakens.

         Jay reached into his jacket to produce a stack of unopened envelopes. “You never collect your mail.”

         Bruce accepted them. Their fingers brushed. He felt that tug on his heart again.

         “I only get junk,” Bruce sorted through the coupons and political ads.

         “US Department of Immigration?”

         Jay’s eyes widened.

         “Oops!” He snatched the envelope away, stuffing it into his pocket. “Mine! They wish to sell me an extended warranty on mi Green Card.”

         Behind Bruce’s couch hung a portrait of an open-mouthed great white shark. Its teeth protruded from the canvas. A housewarming gift Jay had painted for this new neighbor.

         Bruce loved it.

         “Your jacket is moving,” Bruce pointed to the wiggling leather.

         “¡Ay!” Jay looked down and slowly unzipped his coat. A tiny black puppy poked out. The little thing wore a blue hoodie and a ridiculous shark fin strapped to his head. Graffiti printed across the jumper read “Not Friendly.”

Bruce stared. “Is that… a dog?”

The puppy yawned.

         “¡Si!” Jay proudly lifted the puppy into the air. “Un perro for you!”

         Bruce took two enormous steps backwards. “NO!”

         “No?” Jay advanced.

         Bruce retreated towards the kitchen. “I can’t have a puppy. He’s too tiny!”

         “Don’t be afraid to hold the cosito,” Jay laughed so hard he nearly dropped the puppy. “You will not hurt him.” Finally, he placed the little creature into Bruce’s arms

Bruce gasped.

The puppy whimpered. Then buried his tiny nose beneath Bruce’s chin.

Warm, soft, and trusting.

         “He’s so small!”

The puppy licked his neck.

“Are you sure he’s not a rat?”

         “No.” Jay reached over to scratch onė floppy ear. “He is a miniature Xoloitzcuíntli. My friends, Ramone and Itzél breed them for show. He shouldn’t get much bigger than a chihuahua.”

“Aren’t Xolos supposed to be hairless?” Bruce rubbed the soft coat of dark fur.

“Most of them,” Jay let Bruce and the puppy bond. “When they have fur, it is usually coarse. Mister Chompers is no show dog. Izél has no use for him, and the little runt was rejected by his mother.”

Bruce looked down.

Mister Chompers looked back with puppy eyes. Big and hopeful.

His skinny tail wagged.

No one wanted him.

Bruce could relate.

His insides twisted… then melted.

He lifted Mister Chompers to his face until their noses met.

More puppy kisses,

“You’re too small! You need someone to care for you.”

“Si, Papi Shark,” Jay nodded. “So, do you. I thought perhaps you could rescue each other.”

Bruce kissed the side of the puppy’s head, avoiding the shark fin.

“I don’t know how to take care of a dog.”

         “Neither do I,” Jay shrugged. “We learn together. Our first child.”

Bruce looked up so fast that it was his turn to almost drop the dog.

“Our…”

“I was advised to shoot my shoot.” Jay spread his arms dramatically. “Ramone said, ‘Jago, throw that shark a dog!”

         “Throw me a dog?”

         “Es una expresión mexicana. It means to seriously flirt. Make a big play.”

         “Oh.” Bruce carefully wrapped both arms around the puppy.

         “Papi Shark…”

Jay’s light became quiet, vulnerable.

His hand settled gently against Bruce’s bare shoulder.

“I have flirted with you since the day you moved into this building.”

Bruce swallowed. “You helped me unpack and decorate.”

“We go to dinner. Movies. Museums. Walks”

“The comic book shop,” Bruce added.

“I take you shopping.”

“I really appreciate that. I don’t drive.”

“I did try to teach you,” Jay smirked as he stroked his stubble goatee. “Once… Never again.”

“Sorry about that. I had your car fixed.”

“I keep asking you out on a date. You always say ‘No.”

Jay took Bruce’s free hand and kissed it. “If you refuse, I have a mariachi band waiting outside to change your mind.”

         “I…” Bruce pulled away. His head swam, overwhelmed by a deep ache pounding in his chest and the very real possibility that Jay might indeed have a mariachi band waiting outside the door. “Sharks don’t date.”

         “Of course, they do! Where do you think little shark pups come from?”

         Jay moved in closer again, petting the dog as an excuse. “You say ‘No.’ That is supposed to be mi answer. End of the story. Move on. I know the rules, but your big shark eyes beg me, ‘Please, Jago, ask once more. Maybe we change his mind next time.”

Bruce blinked.

Jay could read him so well.

“Why do my eyes sound Mexican?”

         “¡Listilo!l” Jay smirked.

“Mi Bruce, we’re talking about a date. Not marriage. Not sex. A candlelight dinner. Dancing. A kiss or two. Then more dancing. More besos. Lots of besos.”

He embraced Bruce and Chompers, moving them with the beat of the bolero still playing on the house speakers.

Bruce awkwardly matched his footwork.

“We take things nice and slow.”

 Bruce swooned as Jay swept him into a dramatic dip. The much smaller man held him there. “Only when you are ready, do we dance the Tango del Tiburon!”

This felt rehearsed! The hoodie. Shark fin. The dance. How long had Jay been planning?

“Don’t be frightened, Mi Bruce. I’ve got…”

Mister Chompers caught his dangling moon pendant.

They both tried not to laugh.

So much for smooth and practiced.

“I’ve got you,” Jay began again. “I will always catch you, and I will not let you drown.”

Bruce held his breath as Jay leaned in close. The rich smell of leather. His light offered warmth and sanctuary.

“I…”

Everything inside Bruce screamed!

Say yes!

Say yes!!!

“I’m… sorry,” Bruce choked on the broken words. “I c… can’t.”

Jay closed his eyes.

For just a second.

Then he nodded before lifting Bruce back to his feet.

”Okay.”

There was no anger. Only acceptance.

“I will stop asking. I do not wish to hurt you.”

The apartment suddenly felt colder.

No! Anything but that.

“Please…”

Bruce’s voice barely existed.

“Listen to my eyes.”

Could Jay still see them beg?

He asked it, but Bruce couldn’t look at Jay. Could not even tell him why he was afraid. Why he was so unworthy.

Bruce felt smaller than Mister Chompers.

“Don’t give up on me.”

“You know what I think, Papi Shark?” Jay hugged Bruce and the dog.

Bruce shook his head.

“Sharks are stubborn creatures.”

Jay wiped a tear from Bruce’s cheek.

A tiny smile,

“I also think…”

Jay rested his head against the taller man’s chest. One of his tears escaped.

“Those big fish in the ocean. They don’t want to change.”

They both sniffled.

“You do.”

“Mi Bruce, you are the kindest and bravest man I know. Es verdad. But when it comes to water or dating, El Cucuy seizes your heart. You should know that you are not alone.”

Jay rubbed Chompers' neck. “The old people believed Xoloitzcuíntil hailed from the underworld. Mi bisabuela had a Xolo. She said they are spiritual guides and healers. Though not always well behaved.”

He pulled away from Bruce, drying his own eyes.

“Xolos guide souls through the darkness. They don’t carry them through Mictlan. They just refuse to leave them behind.”

“Chompers and I will not leave you.”

The Xolo chimed in on the promise, climbing up to clear more tears with his tongue.

         Bruce gave a sniffle laugh. “You will have to ask me out next week. I’m busy. I have a new man in my life!”

         “I suppose I can compete with a puppy.”

         The light returned.

         “I don’t think you can.”

         Jay laughed and reached for Mister Chompers.

         The puppy squirmed and buried deeper into Bruce.

         Jay hmphed.

         “Rotten little scamp is already spoiled by his other daddy.”

         The music stopped.

         The mood shattered by a cold female voice.

“Secure transmission incoming from Lophius Base.”

Both men jumped.

Scraparella. The Scrap Pile’s Artificial Intelligence. Wired into Bruce’s apartment for... reasons of security.

Track lighting ignited along the living room’s edges. The television on the wall displayed a telephone icon.

“Sharkballs! I forgot the Scrap Pile were checking in today.”

“Disco says, ‘Answer the phone, bitch.” Scraparella flatly relayed the message.

“Disco.” The name soured on Jay’s lips.

Oh, no.

Two worlds that Bruce kept separated were about to collide.

“Quick! Hide in the kitchen!”

“Why should I hide?”

“Please?” Bruce pulled off his apron with one hand and tossed it to Jay. Mister Chompers gave a frightened yelp.

Jay whistled at shirtless Bruce. “Ay. Ay. Ay! Body magnífico!” He made a show of smelling the apron. “The scent of mi Bruce is sweeter than the cookies.”

“Hush!” Bruce laughed. “Go hide.”

“And don’t eat my cookies!!!”

Jay disappeared into the kitchen.

Bruce tilted his head. Rolled his shoulders. Let’s do this!

“Scraparella, answer.”

“Bruuuuuce!” Disco’s falsetto voice rang as his image appeared on the big screen. Toss-Up, the Scrap Pile’s BMA liaison, and his wife, Cygnus, stood behind him. In the background, the command center of the deep-sea Lophius Base buzzed with activity.

“There you are! Dressing shark casual today.” Disco moved an eye closer to the camera. “I approve. Lose the shorts. Wear a thong. This could be your new uniform.”

         Something crashed in the kitchen.

         “Jerk!” Cygnus elbowed Disco, knocking him out of the way.

Lophius Base must have been cold. A heavy jacket covered her skimpy, blue-striped outfit. The humidity did nothing to help manage her kinky hair.

         “Funny, Disco.” Bruce folded his free arm to cover his bare chest. “I was getting dressed for work.”

         “Wasn’t the store supposed to open a couple of hours ago?” Toss-Up asked, running fingers through dirty blonde hair. He kept his BMA badge clipped to his bomber jacket. His appearance was Golden Age Adventure, but the widow's-peaked red and yellow shirt said superhero.

         “The fish asked me to let them sleep in?” Bruce’s claim sounded more like a question, as he wasn’t sure anyone would believe him.

         They did not.

         “I won’t tell Torpedo. He did want me to remind you to mop the shop floors.”

         Torpedo’s absence was painfully obvious. The Scrap Pile’s leader must still be angry with Bruce about the Hero Park incident.

         “The BMA was right,” Toss-Up continued. “The mechs threatening Lophius Base are identical to the RoboSquid you took down a couple of weeks ago. I wish MaJaiTek were still with the team. He would have been useful. They’re coming through a dimensional nexus near-”

         “Nexus?!?” Jay blurted from the kitchen.

         He was not doing a good job of hiding.

         Toss-Up squinted his eyes.

         “Is that a dog?”

         “Oh,” Bruce protectively hugged the puppy and gave him another kiss. “This is Mister Chompers. He’s… new. I was-” he looked to the kitchen, expecting a cue from Jay. “Lonely?”  

          “You should have called me, Bruce.” Disco pushed his way back to the center of the screen. “I am always ready to keep you company!”

         “When I get home, we can spend a few long nights together. I’ll crack your tight shell wide open, and you can teach me about love or whatever.”

         Cygnus shoved him.

         Jay marched out of the kitchen. “He doesn’t need your company, pendejo.”

         What was Jay doing?!?

         His jacket had been discarded. The guayabera shirt unbuttoned. The open camisa showed off tiny black chest hairs that Bruce found impossible to ignore.

         He was eating a chocolate chip cookie.

         Jay refastened the bottom two buttons, giving the illusion of getting dressed.

         “Oh, Jeezumcow!” Toss-Up blushed. “We didn’t know you had company.”

         “NOOO!” Disco’s shriek was worthy of a defeated Disney villainess.

         “Hi, Jay!” Cygnus squealed. “I knew you and Bruce were going to hit it off. I can tell about these things. You two are so cute together. Love your shirt. An Ollin and Quetzalcoatl. Very cool.

         Now that Jay’s jacket was off, the shirt’s beautiful embroidery was on full display. An eight-pointed symbol with an eye in the center, circled by a feathered serpent eating its own tail.

         “Adorable!” Disco’s grin recovered. “You have a little friend. Do you carry him in your pocket? Is he your pocket friend?”

         “Not so little,” Jay muttered. Standing under five and a half feet, he was not tall.

         Cygnus rolled her eyes. “This is Jay Ramirez, Bruce’s neighbor. You would have met him had you helped Bruce move in.”

         “I’m not domestic,” Disco dismissed her.

         Bruce looked from Jay to Disco.

         From Disco to Jay as the two squared off.

         This was not happening!

         “Ay, we have met before. I performed with The Deaf Hounds for many Latino Nights at your club. You have ‘whatevered’ me at least five times.”

         “Whatever,” Disco shrugged. “You’re just not very memorable, Little J. Of course, now that I know you are Big B’s friend, I’ll be sure to keep an eye on you.”

         “Jajaja. I get it, Bruce is Big D, and I am Little J.” Jay met Bruce’s stare with a wink. “That must make you Tiny D. I mean, you do get around, and people talk.”

         Cygnus snorted.

         “Boys!” Toss-Up pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’re all friends of Bruce here, and we all knew Bruce was seeing someone.”

         “You did?” Disco shrieked again.

         “Of course. It was obvious.” Cygnus gave Disco the side eye and stuck out her tongue. “How did you miss it? Aren’t you his ‘bestie?”

         “We’re not -.” Bruce struggled to find his voice.

         He looked for anything to catch his gaze. Anything to help him escape this room. The fish tank. The blue glow of the giant lava lamp. The replica of a megalodon tooth that Bruce swore was real.

         Even the patio curtains were tightly drawn, hiding the view of Beta City and Lake Erie. Bruce wanted no reminders of how close he lived to the water.

         His head swam. It was hard to breathe. From the eighteenth floor, it was impossible to start an earthquake, but…

         The stone animal figurines Bruce had molded shook on their display shelf. All the glass in the apartment rattled. The sand at the bottom of the aquarium swirled.

         And there was Jay. His gentle hand on Bruce’s cheek to calm him,

         I’ve got you, Papi Shark.

“I hope you are serious about our Bruce,” Cygnus spoke to Jay. “He’s a sweetheart.”

“Muy serio.”

         “It will be over before you know it,” Disco huffed. “First relationships never last long. Bruce can do much better. Jay is so… Mexican.”

         Bruce shivered. He had never heard his biracial friend make a racist comment before. Not once. Nor had he seen Disco’s smile look so predatory.

         “Don’t be so sure, Señor Disco. You are a sun that shines so bright you see only yourself. Let me draw you a picture. You are on the bottom of the ocean chasing robots, and I am here with mi Bruce.” Jay placed an arm around Bruce’s shoulder and rubbed his chest. “And our child.” He bent over to kiss Mister Chompers.

         “We’re not dating,” Bruce whimpered.

         “Enough of this.” Toss-Up interrupted. “Jay, I’m glad you are there to keep Bruce out of trouble. He can be his own worst enemy, especially when he’s bored. Keep those idle hands busy.”

         Cygnus giggled. “Yes, Jay. Do that!”

         Disco’s eyes narrowed. “This isn’t over, Jayzabell. I’ll get you, Little J, and your little dog, too.”

“Oh, shut up.” Cygnus bumped Disco out of the way.

Toss-Up reached for unseen controls. “We’re signing off. You two have fun.”

The screen went blank.

         The two friends stood side by side a moment in silence.

“So… I met the family.” Jay could barely hold his laughter.

Bruce brushed a rogue curl out of Jay’s eye.

“I thought Disco was going to eat you alive!”

“So did he. I am tougher than you think, Papi Shark.”

More silence as Mister Chompers squirmed.

Bruce softly clasped Jay’s wrist.

Then let go.

Jay cleared his throat.

“I should tell the mariachi band to go home.”

 

 

¡Ay, No! How could a shark say "No?"

Up Next: Issue Three: Lovesick Shark

Lonely Bruce laments and Leviathan Strikes!!!