“In that case, I may be here for years. So humor me and help me out right now. Your friends have just taken my poor car.”
“Let me finish up this paperwork, then I’m all yours. Always a pleasure to serve, you know.” Greg winked before he hurriedly scrawled a few more notes on whatever forms he was filling in.
Out of all of Nick’s breakups, Greg had easily been the best. The two of them had hooked up in the back laundry room of a house party, where Nick also had met Tucker, during the early part of his PhD. After exchanging numbers, they soon had sex in Greg’s car. Two weeks later, they were having sex fairly regularly as if it were a sport. In spite of Nick desperately wanting the relationship to go somewhere more romantic and mean something beyond fucking, they both knew they would never work out. Greg’s large biceps and taut muscles, dusty-blond hair, and sharp jawline drew Nick in, but his messy apartment and gambling habit (and subsequent credit card debt) were huge turnoffs for anything long-term. According to Greg, Nick’s intellect and his wild theories about the world made interesting pillow and dinner talk, but Nick’s addiction to romantic comedies on Netflix made him seem both too serious and too sappy. So after two months of fooling around, Greg invited Nick over for a glass of whiskey and they mutually decided to see other people. It had taken another two weeks for the “no fucking around anymore” part of the breakup to really take effect, and by that time, Greg had found someone else through Grindr, and Netflix had uploaded all of Friends to its queue, so Nick had something else to do on Friday and Saturday nights.
Greg set the forms aside on the counter and turned his attention back to Nick. “So what brings you here?”
“As if you don’t know. I am just that desperate and hopeless.” Nick sighed overdramatically. “Also, my car won’t start. John and Ray took it around by the back door.”
“I thought it was only me who got in your back door?”
“Oh, don’t start that. My heart is like my car and can’t take being toyed with.”
“Hmm. Sounds like a big issue.”
“The biggest.”
Greg chuckled. Before their flirtation could go much further, John and Ray stepped in from the garage and placed a new form in front of Greg. They grabbed some donuts from a box near the coffee machine and disappeared again into another room. “Well, apparently I’m the only one free today, so I may as well check it out.”
“You’re an angel. Thank you.” Nick held back from kissing Greg on the cheek with gratitude. When Greg walked around the counter and grabbed Nick in a half hug, Nick felt much better.
“Don’t worry, Nick. I’ll go take a look at this mess, and maybe we can get you out of here before nightfall.”
An hour later, Greg came back into the storefront area with grease on the front of his uniform and sections of his sandy-blond hair sticking up. He chewed on his lip, avoiding Nick’s wave, as he slid behind the front counter’s computer. Nick had been nursing a cup of really dark and bitter coffee, which he now crinkled in his hand as he stood.
“Oh no. I know that look,” Nick said. “That’s the ‘this is expensive and I don’t know how to break it to you’ look. I’ve seen it more than once.”
Greg’s gaze narrowed in on the computer screen without answering Nick. He let out a low whistle.
“I’m so not getting out of here before nightfall,” Nick said.
“I know. Spoke too soon. Sorry.”
“It’s fine. Just don’t drag it out. Tell me the news. I can take it.” Nick clapped a hand over his chest. He felt as if he were repeating the dialogue of every father in a Lifetime movie about a kid with cancer. From the way Greg’s brows continued to knit, maybe that wasn’t far off.
“Well. I know that mechanics are notorious for going under the hood for one issue and coming up with several others. But I can’t let you drive out of here.”
“Well, yeah. The engine.”
“That’s relatively minor. Still shitty, and kind of expensive, but it could be fixed in twenty-four hours. It’s your brakes that concern me.”
“That sounds ominous,” Nick said. “But as far as I know, they’ve been working well.”
“They have. But you ever hear a grinding noise while driving? It may be small, but it’s there—right?”
Nick tried to remember, but came up with nothing.
“Well, the shocks are wearing away, along with the brake pads. That’s what’s making that noise. If you don’t hear it now, you’ll start to hear it soon. And the more those wear away, the closer you get to your brakes not working. That really is ominous, like you said, so I need to replace them. And, well, come here for a second.” Greg motioned for Nick to come behind the counter. Nick did so, sliding in close to Greg, because any kind of bodily contact right now would make him feel better. If Tucker had been there, Nick would have tried to hold his hand, and Tucker probably would have let him. Nick’s car’s make and model were on the screen, next to a list with different manufactures, part names that made no sense, and their cost. Their astronomical cost.
“Hey. Wait. I thought a Mazda was supposed to be cheaper? That was why I bought this car.”
“I know. It’s good advice for the standard repairs. But when we’re talking about batteries and brakes and shocks, there’s only so much I can do. I’m not a miracle worker.”
Nick closed his eyes and tried to steady himself. “I know, I know. You’re a huge help. But how much are we talking here? I’m already in pretty deep because of the tow truck.”
Greg tapped the keyboard a few times. The total amount was listed at the bottom. Four digits. Nick felt like he’d been wounded. Everything above twenty dollars seemed too high, unless he was talking about his student loan payments. A couple grand for something like a car made him want to curl up into a ball.
“I can’t pay that. Not right now. It’s just . . .”
“I get it. You’re in school. I’m good with this stuff, remember?”
“I do. You were a saint in your other life.” Nick smiled. When they had dated, it had always been Greg picking up their bills at restaurants or at movies. It had been nice, for a while, to feel like a kept boyfriend. But Nick was under no illusions right now. There was no way Greg would pay for this—even if Nick did sneak him away and give him a blowjob in the back. Which he wasn’t totally above doing . . . he’d just prefer to not ignite that flame of attraction right now.
“This is what I can do.” Greg typed in more numbers on the screen. “A discount. Friends and family. I’m taking out most of the labour costs this way.”
“Oh my God. Really? That would be great.”
Nick watched as some of the possible total was knocked down—but not much. It looked like only ten percent of the initial total was gone. That was still a lot, but by no means enough. Nick’s smile fell from his face, and Greg squeezed his shoulder.
“That’s all I can do, Nickie.”
“I know, I know. Thanks so much for even considering me discount-worthy. I think I can pay that total.” Nick scanned his phone for his funding email from the university, plus his latest credit card statement. He did some quick math in his head, and though it pained him, he nodded. “Yeah, I can pay that bill. But not now? I have to wait until the end of the month for my money from my teaching job to come in. I’ve already paid the tow truck with credit, so I can’t max that out. Then there’s rent and food, you know. I like eating. But I’m thinking of developing a finer palette for the many different types of ramen noodles.”
“I understand entirely.” Greg inputted a few commands into the computer, possibly ordering the parts he’d need and saving the bill for later. “These parts will take a few days to come in, anyway. I obviously can’t let you drive out of the lot, so we can keep your car. No charge. We’ll fix the issues when the parts are in, and then I can let the car stay here a little beyond that. Whenever you can pay, you can take it back. Make sense?”
“Really?”
“Yeah, but don’t push the limit too
far, you know? These guys barely notice anything that’s not a donut, so if by chance they somehow realize that your grey little Mazda has been hanging around too long, I can stave them off for at least a week. Hopefully you’ll have the money by then.”
“Thank you! Thank you so much. This is huge.” Nick fought the urge to hug Greg again. Greg smiled, his dimples visible on his cheeks. Nick shuddered as he remembered what those dimples tasted like and what Greg felt like underneath his uniform. Nick pushed those thoughts away. Those days were done, and this small favour was only that—a favour for old times’ sake.
“Okay. Good. Always happy to help,” Greg said. “Give me a few minutes to collect some stuff in the back room and print out a few forms. I also think I have to do an oil change. But after that, would you like a ride back to your place? We offer them for paying customers.”
Nick let out a relieved sigh. He had anticipated walking the half hour back to his apartment under the hot sun, but now he could relax and get even more bad coffee.
“That sounds perfect. Thank you again.”
Greg lifted up a hand, almost as if he were bowing. “No worries, Nickie. I always try my best.”
Nick was in the middle of his second cup of bitter coffee when his phone rang. Alex Moore displayed on the screen, and Nick’s heart sank. Shit, Alex. Alex and his fucking party. Nick had forgotten what time—and really, what day—it was with everything that had happened. It was almost six now, the end of the work day, and he’d thought he’d get to go home and relax in front of a TV show marathon, drowning his sorrow in ramen noodles. Not quite. Nick almost let the call go to voice mail. Knowing he wouldn’t hear the end of it, he clicked Accept and stepped outside the mechanic’s lobby.
“Nick!” Alex roared into the phone. “Where have you been? You better be stuck in traffic right now.”
“I’m actually stuck at a mechanic’s.”
“Stop playing, man. What time are you really heading out here tonight?”
“Uh . . . Um . . . Fuck,” Nick murmured under his breath as he kicked the curb. Guilt crept under his skin. It wasn’t that he’d forgotten about Alex, so much as Nick had been strategically putting off thinking about him. In order for Nick to be in grad school, he had to be good at compartmentalizing or he’d become overwhelmed by all he had to do. To even think about Alex’s wedding, happening at the end of June, made him want to break out in hives. There was too much to consider, and now, way too much he couldn’t afford. This weekend was supposed to be reserved for a small party between the groomsmen, and then Alex, and his other friend Levi, getting fitted for tuxes along with Nick. It was supposed to be a fun reunion of all three of them, reminiscent of their University of Toronto days. But now everything felt like a burden, and in spite of Nick loving Alex (and, to a certain degree, Levi) as his best friends, he didn’t know if he could face Toronto.
“Don’t leave me hanging, Nick. What’s up?”
Nick sighed. “I can’t come tonight. There’s just no way. My car won’t start. And apparently I’ve been driving with my brake lines perilously close to cutting out. It’s a wonder I’m alive, really.”
“Oh, oh wow.” Alex’s voice took on a serious—yet parental—tone he must have used in his high school classroom when he was teaching. “That’s terrible.”
“Yeah. New brakes and new battery. Bad news.”
“That’s not good.”
“Yeah, it’s not.” Nick was silent for a while. He kicked some pebbles and felt utterly wretched about the whole thing. Alex’s voice hadn’t changed from the parental tone, and Nick didn’t like feeling chastised, even in a small way. “I can probably make it out tomorrow to get fitted for the tux, though. I know there’s no way of getting around that. But the party tonight I can’t attend. Not even if I took a bus.”
“Okay, I think that’s a good solution,” Alex said. “I’m glad the tux fitting can still happen, and I look forward to seeing you.”
“But?” Nick asked. “C’mon, man. I know you’re giving me teacher tone right now. What else is up?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Bullshit,” Nick challenged. In addition to being a high school teacher, Alex was the youngest in their friend group by a couple of months, and he was the one who kept everyone together and happy. Even if Nick didn’t mean to miss their clubbing experience tonight, it was as if he’d missed out on the wedding itself.
When Alex sighed, Nick knew they were getting somewhere. Alex was going back into social mode, and that meant being honest with Nick for what felt like the first time in months.
“I just miss you, you know? It’s already like you’re a completely different person because of the PhD. At least you did your master’s close by, but now . . . you’re stuck in your ivory tower.”
“Not a chance. I’m the only person here who refuses to change. Still a stubborn Romantic with a capital R at heart, which is why I’m in school. Studying the Romantics. Forget ivory towers, man. And,” Nick added with urgency, “I’m still your best man. I’m still coming to your wedding. Even if I can’t stand the bachelor party you’re having.”
“We could get a stripper for you! I don’t mind, and there’s lots of time to rearrange that,” Alex said. Nick was the only gay one in their group of friends. Usually it didn’t matter, since they bonded far more often about music than they did about women. Alex’s fairy-tale romance with Erin, his university girlfriend, and the subsequent wedding plans had changed their dynamic—but not in the way Nick had anticipated. Instead of being bored senseless by the wedding details, he found himself longing for them way, way too much.
“Nah, don’t worry about getting me a beefcake for your party. It’s not about me, you know? It’s your wedding and your party. I’ll go and maybe talk to some of the girls about something innocuous. Maybe they like the same movies as me.”
“Maybe.” Alex laughed a little. “I just wish you could have been around for the house party tonight.”
“Me too, but really, having a party tonight and then a bachelor party seems excessive. You straights are monsters.”
“Hey now,” Alex said, still lighthearted. “It’s my last week of decadence. Or something like that.”
“Yeah, something.” Nick rolled his eyes. “At least you have Levi tonight, and he can champion a party well enough. Tomorrow, you’ll have me. And the rest of the weekend, we can see how things go. Sound good?”
“Yeah, really good. You’re going to come tomorrow with the car?”
“Um . . .” Nick glanced across the street to the GO Bus terminal. The sign’s green and white logo seemed like a beacon in the night, especially since they were the only bus company that went directly from Waterloo to Toronto at least twice a day, even on the weekends. “Nah, I have another plan. I’ll work it out. Just save me a seat for lunch before the tuxes, okay?”
“Okay,” Alex said, his voice lighter now. “Stay safe, my man.”
“You too.”
When Nick hung up the phone, he remained on the curb for a while longer, his thoughts a jumbled mess. Ever since Alex had proposed to Erin, there had been a rift in their friendship. Nick had thought it was because he’d taken his PhD to a new school two hours away, but he knew that wasn’t true. His friendship with Levi had still remained the same, even if Levi had also changed from the nerdy, six-foot-four lanky guy who loved punk to the big-shot stock trader in Toronto.
No—the change had everything to do with Alex’s wedding, and as the date approached, Nick felt it in his gut like an ulcer. None of it seemed fair. Nick wanted a wedding, probably more than anyone he’d ever known, but his desire had always been stifled or kept under wraps. He had heard all the arguments against getting married, the clichés, the tropes, how it still reinforced heteronormativity for gays, but he didn’t care. He wanted the tux for himself, and he wanted to pick the colours. He wanted to rent out the large hall to have the first dance with someone, then file off into a plane for a dream honeymoon. But more than any o
f the ephemera associated with a wedding, Nick wanted the husband. The person by his side—the love of his life. But he also knew, with the way things had been going lately, this dream would never happen.
“Hey, Nick?” Greg stepped out of the mechanic’s office, scanned the parking lot, and located Nick across the street. He waved him over. “Come on, man. You ready to go?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Nick nodded, still shaking away the lingering hope under his skin. “I’ll be right there.”
“So how has your dilemma been?” Tucker asked.
Nick groaned before shucking his bag onto their wooden table. Tucker leaned against the counter, still drinking from the same mug of coffee that he’d had earlier in the day. Their kitchen was devoid of any dishes, and it looked as if the counters had been scrubbed until they shone. Which meant that Tucker had been avoiding work all day, cleaning like a fiend while simultaneously listening to audiobooks about the civil war. Anything but his dissertation.
“I’m exhausted, that’s how I am.” Nick walked past Tucker to the fridge, only to close the door after he saw nothing that was his to eat inside. “And I have no car.”
“I figured that from the cute guy driving you home. Sorry, man. I know it sucks. If it makes you feel better, please eat my leftover Chinese food.”
“What?” Nick looked sheepishly into the fridge and then back at Tucker. “Are you sure?”
“Definitely sure. I don’t like whatever it is.”
“Why did you get it, then? Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, you know. Just odd.”
Tucker shrugged. “I actually can’t read the local menu, so I just pick numbers, which I do know the Mandarin for. Sometimes it’s good. Other times . . . it’s yours.”
“Well, normally I would tell you to just go to a different place with an English menu, but I know you’re an odd creature, Tucker, and right now you’re also a lifesaver.” Nick emptied the take-out container into a small bowl and slipped it in their microwave. Tucker remained leaning on the counter, his skinny body almost a forty-five-degree angle as he continued to drink coffee. When Nick took his newly acquired dinner to the table, Tucker followed and sat across from him.
Hopeless Romantic Page 2
