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your muscles over here and bring that de-licious quarterback with you.”
    Quentin stared at the man. Something... off about him. Something that made Quentin nervous.
    John walked to the left-side chair and sat, leaving Quentin standing alone and feeling like an idiot. Quentin walked to the right-side chair and sat, looking up as he did — whatever a piñata was, he was sitting directly under its green, blue, and yellow horse ass.
    “Quentin Barnes,” John said, “meet Frederico Esteban Giuseppe Gonada.”
    “Gonzaga,” the man said. “But that was very close, John.”
    Tweedy nodded.
    “Fabulous to meet you, Mister Barnes. Or should I call you Elder?”
    Frederico seemed overly excited about the whole situation. And the way he’d said Elder — all smiles, but the word was laced with hatred.
    “Quentin is fine, thanks.”
    “Well, Quentin, you certainly are a big boy, aren’t you?”
    “Uh...” Quentin said. Well, he was much bigger than Frederico. Hard to tell while the man was sitting, but Frederico might be six foot even. If so, that made Quentin a full foot taller. Frederico looked athletic, but couldn’t have been more than two hundred pounds. Next to Quentin, he looked anorexic.
    “Soooo,” Frederico said, drawing out the word. “Uncle Johnny tells me you’re just a lost little lonely heart.”
    “I’m... what?”
    “You need help finding your parents, your family,” Frederico said. “I think you came to the right place. At least your pretty eyes came to the right place.”
    Quentin stared at the man, then at John. John shrugged.
    “Uh, yes,” Quentin said. “That’s right, I want to find my parents.”
    “So you can kiss them with that big, pouty mouth of yours?”
    Quentin leaned back. Had this guy just called his mouth pouty ? Why would a guy say that... unless...
    Quentin grabbed John’s arm. “Tweedy, can I have a word with you?”
    John nodded. Quentin led him back to the back of the office.
    “What is this?” Quentin said in a hard whisper. “Why is he talking about my eyes and stuff?”
    “He said he thinks they’re pretty,” John said, matching Quentin’s volume. “It’s like you don’t listen or something.”
    “Yeah, but... he’s a guy . Why would a guy think my eyes are pretty?”
    Tweedy sighed. “Maybe, backwater, because he thinks guys are prettier than girls.”
    Quentin stared and blinked, the words hitting home. “You mean he’s gay ? Like... a homosexual?”
    Tweedy dug the heel of his right hand into his right eye.
SOME MEN YOU JUST CAN’T REACH
scrolled across his forehead.
    “Yeah, Q,” John said. “Maybe he’s gay. Are you going to tell me that after all you’ve been through with big scary aliens and working in the mines and gangsters and roundbugs you’re afraid of a little gay guy?”
    “I’m not afraid ,” Quentin said. “It’s just that... well, you know, it’s a... a...”
    “A what, Q? Is being gay a sin?”
DID HIGH ONE MAKE STUPIDITY, OR DID IT EVOLVE ON ITS OWN?
scrolled across his face.
    Quentin felt his temper rising. “Listen, jerk, don’t ridicule my culture, you got that? I was raised to believe certain things.”
    “ Certain things . You mean things like all aliens — including your teammates — are actually the spawn of Satan and should be killed on sight?”
    “Well, no, that part was ridiculous.”
    “Why?”
    “Because now I know aliens.”
    “And how many gays do you know?”
    Quentin blinked. He looked across the room at Frederico. “Including this guy?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Well... one.”
    Tweedy nodded. “Look man, you asked for help and I delivered. Frederico is the best. You need someone found? You need to sneak into a system? This is the guy. And he’s ex-Planetary Union Navy or something. Can fly any ship. If you want to find your parents, hire Frederico — unless you’d rather go to Gredok with your troubles?”
    Quentin automatically shook his head. “No way. I’m not giving him any more