Pounding Skin

by L. A. Witt

  The car jerked. Rattled. Again.

  “Oh no.” Matt gripped the wheel tighter. “No, no. Come on, baby.”

  She didn’t come on, though. In fact, everything just . . . died.

  Using what momentum he had left, he nosed onto the side of the road and shut off the ignition. Not that it mattered, since the engine had already gone quiet.

  What the fuck? This is bad.

  He tried to start it again. Nothing. Not even a groan.

  Oh shit.

  Matt let his forehead fall against the steering wheel.

  Yeah.

  This was exactly what he needed.

  Chapter 15

  My fucking car broke down.

  The second Jon read the text, his stomach somersaulted. He wrote back, Are you ok? Where are you?

  He was already jogging out to his car when the response came through:

  On the side of 264W. After the London Bridge exit.

  Jon quickly wrote, Be there shortly, sent it, and tossed the phone into the passenger seat. He was usually pretty good about obeying speed limits—or at least staying reasonably close to them—but not today. He’d broken down on the side of the interstate once, and an eighteen-wheeler had damn near run him over. No way in hell was he leaving Matt out there to wait for a tow to eventually show up.

  He pulled onto the interstate, and as he came up on the London Bridge exit, sure enough, there was Matt’s car on the shoulder. The hood was up, and Matt was wisely still in the car. Smart, given how erratic the drivers in this area could be.

  Jon pulled up behind him, left his hazards flashing, and got out. Matt’s car door opened, and he stepped out too. They went around to the passenger sides of the cars, using the vehicles as a buffer between them and traffic.

  “What happened?” Jon asked.

  “Fuck if I know.” Matt scowled at his car. “Something is definitely fucked up, though.”

  Cars weren’t Jon’s area of expertise, so he didn’t even try looking under the hood and pretending he might know what the problem was. “You call a tow?”

  Matt shook his head, a hint of pink in his cheeks. “I . . . didn’t know where to have them tow it. If I take it back to my place, I’m just going to have to get it towed again. Which will get expensive. Just like . . .” He raked a hand through his hair. “Shit. There is no way I can get this thing fixed.”

  “Relax.” Jon touched his arm. “You know, one of the guys on the flight line is a mechanic in his spare time. He could probably look at it for you without reaming your bank account.”

  Matt turned to him. “Really?”

  “I can give him a call. At the very least, he won’t rip you off like a dealership.”

  Matt snorted, glaring at his car. “I’m pretty sure whichever dealership sold this thing is long gone.”

  “Probably. But taking it to a shop is going to cost you a premium too. Let me give him a call. He’s good people.”

  Gaze still fixed on the car, Matt relaxed a little. His shoulders sagged, and he sighed. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.” After a second, he faced Jon again. “And thanks for coming to scrape me up off the pavement too.”

  Jon smiled. “Did you really think I’d leave you out here to get run over?”

  “You wouldn’t be the first,” Matt muttered. “But seriously—thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it.” Jon paused. “Let me give my friend a call. See if he can take a look at it.” He scrolled through his contacts and found Petty Officer Tyler Cole. It was possible that the kid was still out on the flight line, which meant he wouldn’t have his phone, but if they were lucky, he’d already come back to the shop.

  “Hi, sir,” Cole answered, sticking with formality since he didn’t know if this was a personal or professional matter.

  “Hey, Tyler. You still working on cars?”

  The kid laughed. “You kidding? Of course I am. Whatcha got?”

  “Not actually sure. My friend’s car broke down on 264. Any chance I could have you give it a look?”

  “Yeah, no problem. It’s not under warranty or anything, is it?”

  Jon gave the car a look. He doubted there was a single piece of it that had been manufactured within the last decade. “Gonna go out on a limb and guess . . . no.”

  “Okay, then at least I won’t be voiding anything. Have the tow truck drop it to my place, and I’ll check it out after work.”

  “Perfect. Thanks, Ty.” After Jon had hung up, he turned to Matt. “Let’s call a tow.”

  Matt exhaled. “So he’ll look at it?”

  “Yep. There’s no guarantee he can fix it, and he doesn’t work for free, but he’s a hell of a lot cheaper than a regular shop.”

  “That’s a better deal than I’d get anywhere else, and at this point, I’ll take what I can get.”

  Matt called a tow and read them Tyler’s address off Jon’s phone. The dispatcher told him it would be twenty to thirty minutes.

  “Looks like I’m going to be here a while.” He handed Jon’s phone back. “Half an hour or so, apparently.”

  “No problem.” Jon leaned against the front of his own car.

  “Thanks again,” Matt said. “Seriously. I know this is a bit above and beyond what we’re doing, but—”

  “Hey. No.” Jon touched Matt’s waist. “Just because we’re fuck buddies doesn’t mean I’ll leave you high and dry if you’re in a bind and I can help.”

  “Still. I appreciate it.”

  “Any time.”

  Matt started to say something, then jumped like he’d been zapped. “Shit! I still have to mail that box for my boss.” He looked at his watch. “Oh fuck. I’m not going to have—”

  “Hey. Hey. Chill.” Jon cupped his face, and right there on the side of the freeway, pressed a tender kiss to Matt’s forehead. “The tow will be here shortly, and we can swing into the post office afterward. Don’t sweat it.”

  Some more tension melted from Matt’s shoulders. “Thank you. I’ll, uh . . .” He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “I’ll go grab it.”

  While Matt went to get the package and transfer it to Jon’s car, Jon watched him. It occurred to him that if they hadn’t had plans to meet up, Matt probably wouldn’t have texted him. How long would he have sat out here, figuring out his options, before he’d finally called?

  Though he supposed Matt could have called one of the guys from the tattoo shop. Or a friend. He was a grown man with people he could rely on if he needed to be bailed out.

  For whatever reason, though, Jon was glad this had happened when they’d been planning to meet so Matt had had a reason to text him. Not that he needed to be someone’s knight in shining armor, but at least he knew Matt’s car was on its way to someone who wouldn’t rip him off, and Matt himself wasn’t sitting beside I-264 waiting to be run over.

  Matt returned with the package under his arm. He smiled uncertainly. “Okay. Got everything I need.”

  Jon smiled back. He touched Matt’s waist and stole another kiss. “All right. Let’s wait in my car so we don’t turn into roadkill.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Chapter 16

  The next day, Jon drove Matt to his friend’s shop. It was an in-home shop set up in the garage of a small two-story, not far from the base in Norfolk. There were a couple of kids’ bikes toppled on the front porch, and some colorful plastic toys in the fenced front yard. Matt wondered if the mechanic work was a supplement to Tyler’s income, or just a hobby he’d held onto even after starting a family. Maybe both.

  Jon parked beside a souped-up Honda—iridescent purple with a ridiculous spoiler—and a second later, the garage door yawned open. Inside, Matt’s car was up on a lift, and a guy came out in a grease-stained NAVY T-shirt and jeans. Tyler, apparently. He was probably a little younger than Matt—maybe twenty-five, twenty-six—with some Navy and heavy metal tattoos on his upper arms.

  “Hey, Tyler,” Jon said as they got out of the car. “How’s it going?”
>
  “Good. And I’d, uh, offer to shake hands, but . . .” Tyler held up his greasy palms.

  “It’s fine. No worries.” Matt smiled uneasily, and nodded past him. “So, what’s the verdict?”

  “Busted timing belt, unfortunately.”

  Matt winced. “That sounds expensive.”

  “It’s not as bad as it could be. One of the dealerships, they’d take one look and tell you the whole engine has to go.”

  Matt’s blood went cold and his throat constricted. He was going to have to buy a new car, wasn’t he? Shiiit.

  “And sometimes,” Tyler went on, “it does. A broken timing belt can be like a hand grenade going off. Makes a mess of everything.” He nodded sharply toward the car. “You were lucky—the belt broke, but it didn’t do nearly as much damage as it could have. Near as I can tell, it’s nothing I can’t fix.”

  “Oh. Well.” Matt swallowed. “That’s good. So how much will this set me back?”

  “Well, I can’t do it for free.” Tyler wiped his hands on a blue shop towel. “But I can do it for the cost of parts. No labor.” He nodded toward Jon. “Friends’ discount.”

  “Wow, seriously?”

  Tyler nodded. “Sure. I do this for fun most of the time anyway.”

  Matt released a breath. As relieved as he was, he was genuinely shocked that the skies hadn’t broken open and angels hadn’t started singing. “I can definitely work with that. And I really appreciate it.”

  “Don’t mention it. It’s definitely a good thing you came to me—anywhere else, you’d be out some serious cash. Fuckers rip everyone off.”

  “Believe me, I know. And hey, you ever want any more ink, come talk to me.” Matt smiled. “I’ll definitely cut you a deal.”

  Tyler grinned. “Sweet. My wife doesn’t want me getting any more because it’s so expensive, but hey, this might be a game-changer.”

  Matt laughed and dug a business card out of his wallet. “This is where I work, so come on in any time.”

  “Great. Thanks.” Tyler glanced at the card. “Oh, Skin Deep, Inc. I’ve heard of you guys.”

  Jon elbowed Matt gently. “This guy does awesome work, too. I can definitely vouch for him.”

  “Did he do yours?”

  Jon nodded.

  Tyler snickered. “I’d ask to see it, but—”

  “Yeah, yeah, fuck you.” Jon rolled his eyes. “You saw the pictures, just like everybody else.”

  “Could’ve done without seeing your ass, though.”

  “Could’ve avoided it if you hadn’t looked at the picture.”

  Tyler just laughed.

  “So, uh.” Matt cleared his throat. “How long for the car?”

  “Depends on how soon I can get the part. If you want to go buy it off the shelf, I can get started as soon as I have it in hand. If I order it . . .” He shrugged. “You’re looking at a couple of days at least to get here, depending on where it comes from.”

  “Would it cost much different?”

  Tyler thought about it, then shrugged again. “Ordering it means paying for shipping, but once you figure in your gas and the retail markup, you’d probably still come out ahead if you had me order it.”

  Jon turned to Matt. “Can you do without your car for that long?”

  Matt swallowed. “I . . . can probably make it work. I think Lucas lives pretty close to me, so I can hitch a ride with him or Colin.” He gestured dismissively. “I’ll figure it out.”

  Tyler had him sign a work agreement and general estimate of the cost, and by the time they were done, Matt was feeling pretty good about the whole situation. Though it wasn’t going to be cheap, he’d gotten lucky—his car had been limping along for a while, and when it finally went tits up, Jon knew somebody who could fix it without bankrupting him.

  It was still stressful, being without a car and knowing he’d have to cough up some cash to get it back, but he felt better. Much better.

  As Jon drove them out of the neighborhood, he said, “With that out of the way, you want to go grab something to eat?”

  Christ, now that he mentioned it, Matt was starving. “Yes, actually. And it’s on me. You just saved me from having to scrape up three or four grand I don’t have.”

  “You don’t have to buy me lunch.”

  “Yes I do. Don’t argue.”

  Jon glanced at him, then shrugged, and he didn’t push the issue.

  A short drive from Tyler’s neighborhood, they found a mom-and-pop place that had somehow survived—so far—the influx of chain restaurants, and went inside.

  The restaurant was decked out for Halloween, with black and orange streamers across the ceiling and cutouts of ghosts, bats, and skeletons on the walls. Christ, was it really October already? It was still unseasonably warm. Cool enough for a jacket, but not that bitter bullshit that would be along in February.

  A hostess seated them in a booth near the back, and they perused the menus. Once they’d settled on a couple of burgers and the waiter had brought them some Cokes, they were alone.

  Matt played with a paper bat hanging from the light above their table. “Halloween already. When did that happen?”

  “Seriously.” Jon watched the bat swinging back and forth. “Next thing you know it’ll be Christmas.”

  “Ugh. Don’t remind me.”

  “Not a fan?”

  “Eh, I like Christmas, but it’s just kind of a slow time at work. And I don’t like being cold.”

  “That I can relate to.” Jon was quiet for a moment, watching the bat swinging back and forth. “Speaking of Halloween . . .”

  Matt sipped his drink. “What about it? Because I’m not taking you trick-or-treating.”

  “What?” Jon gave him a melodramatic pout. “You won’t?”

  “Absolutely not. Told you—I don’t like being cold.” He paused. “Though if you give me all your Reese’s and candy corn, maybe we can work something out.”

  Jon wrinkled his nose. “You can definitely have the candy corn.”

  “Score.”

  “Anyway.” Jon scratched the back of his neck. “My squadron does a little Halloween shindig every year. Starts out as a thing for kids, then turns into an adult party.”

  “So, pouring booze and candy into my skull all night?”

  “Basically. And I mean, I know we’re keeping this casual, but you’re welcome to come with me if you want to.”

  Matt shrugged. “Sure. Sign me up.”

  “Really?”

  “Why not?” Matt sipped his drink. “I mean, it depends on if I’m working that night, but I could stand to get out and socialize a little.”

  “Play your cards right, you’ll probably pick up some business.”

  “You think so?”

  “You heard Tyler—people are always looking for artists. A good tattoo artist is hard to find, apparently.”

  “Huh. Yeah, I think my boss’s boyfriend became the most popular guy on the ship when people figured out he was dating a tattoo artist. I mean, there’s plenty of us around. Isn’t like we’re an endangered species.”

  “No, but the key word is good.” Jon sat back and draped his arm across the back of the bench. “I’ve seen some horrific tattoos.”

  Matt grimaced. “Yeah. Me too. Now that we’ve got that kid in the shop doing cover-ups, we’re seeing even more botched jobs, but I’ve seen some awful ones.” He paused. “And . . . Tyler said he’d seen your tattoo. Has everyone on the base seen it?”

  Jon groaned. “Unfortunately, yes. I’m pretty sure it’s made the rounds to the whole fucking fleet by now.” He paused. “I mean, not that it’s a bad tattoo. That’s not—”

  “I know what you mean. Chill.” Matt snickered. “When your friend started taking pictures, I figured it meant you wouldn’t hear the end of it.”

  “Not any time soon. I even got called into the CO’s office.”

  Matt blinked. “No shit? You got in trouble?”

  “Kind of. He gave me a good long lecture ab
out how officers should conduct themselves, and that maybe allowing a photo of my freshly-tattooed ass to circulate didn’t really fall into that kind of conduct. The worst part was trying to stand there and look serious while he was so obviously struggling not to crack up. Especially with Nate grinning like a fool right next to me.”

  Matt smothered a laugh. “Yeah, I’ll bet he was totally contrite.”

  Jon just rolled his eyes and shook his head, and Matt didn’t bother holding back the laugh anymore.

  “On the bright side,” Jon said. “I’ve had a lot of guys ask for your name.”

  “Oh. Awesome. So I’ll be forever known as the guy who tattooed your ass.”

  “Hey, anything to bring in business, right?”

  “Fair point.”

  “Like I said.” Jon smiled. “Everyone’s looking for a good artist. And even if the tattoo was a joke thanks to a lost bet, you did do a damn good job on it.”

  Matt’s face warmed, and he half shrugged. “For me, a tattoo’s a tattoo. Even if it’s obviously a lost bet, or some idiot getting his girlfriend’s name on his chest two weeks after they met.”

  “Do people really do that?”

  “More often than you would believe.”

  Jon’s lips quirked. “You know, I suddenly don’t feel so bad about getting a lost bet tattooed on my ass. At least it’s not someone’s name.”

  “Or the other team.” Matt winked. “You’re welcome.”

  Jon laughed. “Yeah. Thanks for saving me, because I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what those bastards would’ve made me get.”

  Matt chuckled. “Happy to help.”

  A moment later, the waiter arrived at their table, balancing two plates with burgers and gigantic heaps of steak fries. If Matt hadn’t already been hungry before, the smell was enough to make his stomach growl and his mouth water.

  As the waiter arranged the plates, he bumped the little paper bat and sent it spinning and swinging on its orange yarn tether. After the waiter had gone, Jon reached up to still the bat, which had apparently brought Halloween back to the front of his mind.

  “So,” he said as he reached for the ketchup, “you’re really game for the Halloween party?”