Mechanic with Benefits

by Mickey Miller

  “Bye Jake.” I waved. Andrea looked back at me, a soft, satisfied expression on her face. She’d been through a million challenges to get to where she was, and she seemed so damn happy. It made me warm inside.

  I had told Andrea and Jake about my depression, in parts, over the fall and winter. To have their full support and to be able to lean on her and Jake when I felt myself getting depressed had done wonders for me. It was a different kind of support that I got from them versus support from my family, who treated me with kid gloves. By now, she knew everything there was to know about me.

  “Well, thanks for indulging us,” she said, but then got serious. “For some reason I have a feeling something is on your mind, though. You have that look.”

  I took a deep breath. “So. Remember Chandler? I told you about him when we were drunk—”

  “That night out at McClellan’s celebrating the creation of our new PR Agency,” she said, laughing. “Of course I remember.”

  I’d told her the story as best I could, leaving out as little detail as possible. From our first night and agreement to continue being “amigovios” that we soon threw right out the window. Like a good friend, she nodded and listened while I talked myself out.

  “Wow. So…you think you might be…” She tailed off, trying to find the right words. “You think you are really falling for him? Like, in love?”

  “Yes. But there are so many question marks. It’s only been a week and I’m already thinking long-term, me moving here or asking him to move back to the States. That’s crazy, isn’t it?” I raised an eyebrow, seeking her approval. I needed someone to tell me I wasn’t crazy.

  She went silent for a few seconds before speaking. “This reminds me of something Jake told me when we were dating. He said, ‘when you know, you know’.” She paused and cocked her head a little bit. “Do you know?”

  “I love him so fucking much,” I blurted out, and as soon as did I reacted with shock at my own words. “Holy shit. I do love him.”

  “There you go. Problem solved.”

  “Uh, the problem is not solved. We haven’t had the talk about…the future. And there’s other things that we haven’t really discussed either.” I frowned. “Also. He lives in Barcelona. He plays basketball here. I live in Chicago. We’re starting a business together. And I’m going to have to be there while you are…you know.”

  Andrea chuckled, and I swear I heard her drawl partially come out even just listening to her laugh. “You crack me up, lady. I won’t be having this baby for another eight months, god willing. That’s plenty of time to work on the business. Of course I’d prefer to have you around, I admit it. But you can handle most of the behind-the-scenes work online, and I’ll do all of our in-person client acquisition.”

  “Oh.” I swallowed and ran a hand through my hair. It registered that I’d been using the fact that I had to go home as an out to avoid confronting the real issue: the fact that I’d finally found a man that I wanted to give my heart and soul to, but I couldn’t put myself out there because I was scared he’d eventually reject me.

  “You got some thinking to do, don’t you?” She spoke matter of fact.

  “Thinking about what?” Chandler’s voice jolted me. He plopped down on the couch next to me wearing nothing but his boxers. “Hi there!” He waved enthusiastically.

  “Hi,” Andrea returned with her drawl.

  “Oh my goodness gracious,” Chandler replied, pulling out a surprising Southern-ish accent. He turned to me. “Now Amy, you never told me you had country friends. You been holding out on me?”

  I rolled my eyes. “This is my friend Andrea. Andrea, this is Chandler.”

  Chandler sat up straight. “Ah, so this is your PR partner, huh?” he asked, looking at me then Andrea.

  “Nice to meet you.” She smiled, and giving me a look of approval when Chandler wasn’t looking. “Well, sorry to be curt but I have a conference call with Harry Yerac I need to prepare for in a few minutes.

  “You know the owner of the Jaguars?” Chandler’s mouth hung open.

  “He’s our biggest client.”

  “Wow. Okay then. Nice to meet you Andrea, maybe we’ll meet in the flesh sometime.”

  Andrea said goodbye to me, and her giant engagement ring flashed me as she reached forward to shut her laptop.

  “Get dressed Squirt,” Chandler said as he dug his face into my stomach.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, laughing.

  “It’s a surprise,” he said, peering down at me. “Put that hot ass dress on that I like, though.”

  “Are you talking about my lace-up, mock-neck and sleeveless bodycon dress?”

  “Is that the red dress that makes your ass look really good?

  I snickered. “You’re never going to let me teach you fashion, are you?”

  He sat up in the couch, pulling me up with him. He wrapped his arms around me. “Maybe later you can do a fashion show for me. And after that I can show you the ropes for some things I know how to do.” He winked, his intent clearly devious.

  My heart beat a little harder. “You want to tie me up?”

  His eyes didn’t leave mine. “Well, we can talk about it, but there are some soft ties I have that I’ve never used. If you trust me, of course. We can talk about it more during dinner.”

  My body tensed at his mention of toys in the bedroom. I’d never used them—not because I was opposed to them in any way, but because I never trusted a guy enough to try them out. The truth was, as he wrapped his arms around me, I realized that I’d never trusted anyone as much as I did him.

  “I’m not opposed to trying some things,” I said. “But we should definitely talk it over.”

  “Yes, let’s.”

  As he kissed the nape of my neck, I wondered if he’d like the surprise I had planned for him during dinner.

  Though it didn’t have anything to do with ropes.

  Twenty-Five

  Chandler

  Her ass did look really good in the red dress, I thought as I opened the door for her to get in the cab.

  However, my feelings had evolved beyond that tonight, and I fully realized something I had been coming to terms with over the last week.

  I fucking loved Amy.

  As we rode in the cab to our destination through the colorfully lit streets of Barcelona, the thought finally fully materialized inside me.

  I loved Amy, and tonight was going to be the night I told Amy I loved her. I hadn’t told anyone. Not my family back in Indiana, Le Ral, not Doña Maria. And it didn’t matter, either. This was between Amy and me. I watched my reflection in the window of the vehicle while I mouthed the words.

  She nuzzled her head into me, taking the middle seat of the cab as I stared out the window aimlessly. I’d never come close to loving a woman. Amy had been the only one in my life to break me down to my core elements. Would she forgive me for my past? That was still to be determined. But most girls just looked at me like a great way to spend a night. Or a month. Even though they convinced themselves they wanted a deeper relationship with me, they’d never understood me the way Amy did. I was not a guy that thought about the future with a woman. That had been my philosophy since I left for college. I always knew what happened the next day, but that was as far as I thought. With Amy, I had no clue what tomorrow would bring. It scared the everlasting shit out of me.

  I wrapped my arms around her, squeezing her into me. She let out a quiet sigh. Since we left my apartment, she seemed preoccupied.

  Was she as nervous as me that this was her last day in Barcelona together? Maybe it would be fine. We could Skype or something.

  I turned my head and took a deep breath, inhaling her scent. She smelled tropical, like sweet fruit. I wondered if that was how she’d taste tonight, too. Later tonight, I’d find out.

  My cock twitched at the thought. The fact that Amy might be open to experimenting with being tied up had me wanting her even more.

  The cab pulled to a halt in front o
f the Argentinean-style steakhouse. It was a renowned place in the area, not only for their incredibly tender beef but also for their amazing pre-dinner appetizers.

  We came in and the hostess immediately showed us the way to the special table that I’d requested, a booth in the corner that would afford us some conversational privacy. You know, because it was the gentlemanly thing to do. Trust me, it had nothing to do with the fact that she was leaving tomorrow.

  I let Amy lead the way. I needed to enjoy every single minute I could watching her breathtaking strut in front of me.

  “It smells ridiculously good in here,” Amy remarked as she slid into our booth.

  “They make all of their steaks over a wood-fired grill. Gives the food a smoky flavor.” I followed suit, sliding into my side across from her.

  “Your server will be right with you,” the hostess said, setting our menus at the end of our table before turning on her heels and walked away.

  “Hey, I can’t tell you how many of my boyfriends have taken me to seafood places for some ‘special date’ like it was some kind of big deal,” Amy said, picking a menu. “While I’m worrying about dying the whole time.”

  A storm of jealousy brewed inside me. I played it cool, not letting it show on my face, because I had no right to be jealous. But there was no sense in pretending that the thought of her with other guys had no effect on me. And these boyfriends that clearly didn’t know her as well as I did. However, the idea of her with a guy after me—hell no.

  The server appeared, a twenty something with dark features and black hair. We ordered a bottle of wine, some French fries, and Brussels sprouts that she assured us were better than either of our moms’. For our mains, I got the short rib and she chose the steak.

  When the server had gone Amy was staring at me, a funny look on her face.

  “Do you know her?”

  I returned her look blankly. “Know who?”

  “Our server,” she said, glancing behind me briefly. “The way she was looking at you. It was like she knew you.”

  “I’ve never seen Victoria before in my life,” I said, referring to the name on her nametag.

  “See?” Amy said, her expression tight. “Right there. You already know her name.”

  “I’m good with names. It was also on her nametag.” I was perplexed about where this animosity was coming from. “Maybe she watches European basketball and recognizes me? Who knows?” I added. Before I could say more, Victoria arrived with our bottle of wine.

  “Tu vino, Señor,” she said and smiled at me. I tasted, nodded, and she filled both of our glasses with the dark red liquid.

  “Now you can’t tell me I’m crazy, the way she smiled at you when she poured your wine,” Amy said once Victoria had left.

  I scrunched my face up. “What are you talking about? We are paying customers. Of course she’s going to smile at us.”

  “Whatever.” Amy shook her head and grabbed her glass.

  I reached across the table and grabbed her forearm. She didn’t reciprocate.

  “What the hell is going on right now?”

  “Nothing,” she said, and took a big gulp of wine.

  “Squirt.” Her nickname came low and serious, more menacing than I had meant it to be. “What the hell is this really about?”

  She scoffed. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Chandler, don’t act like you don’t know. My flight leaves at nine a.m. tomorrow to go back to Chicago. That’s in less than twelve fucking hours. And we haven’t even had a talk about our status. All we’ve talked about today was about how you want to use ropes…or whatever…tonight. But in the car you were silent. And, I don’t know, I thought that girl was giving you the eye. You seriously don’t see it?”

  “I don’t know, Amy. I don’t care what Victoria is looking at! I’m staring at you right now. Just you. You’re the only one I want to stare at.” For the rest of my fucking life. Fuck.

  I sipped my wine and repeated the words in my head.

  I love you, Amy. I know it might seem crazy, but I do.

  Try as I might, the words didn’t come out. It was like there was a demon holding my mouth together, blocking me from saying them.

  I took a big gulp of my wine.

  She took a deep breath to calm herself, then looked up at the ceiling. “Okay. Fine. Maybe I was overreacting. It’s just, I really care about you Chandler. And I’m scared about what’s going to happen when I leave tomorrow. Will this—whatever this is—fade away as quickly as it started? Your goddamn presence is like a drug to me. Will I have to start taking my meds again when I get back home? I hate it, this uncertainty. It makes me sick. And it makes me hate you when girls give you looks like she did. And I know I’m overreacting again.”

  “Squirt.”

  She was really worked up. Her cheeks had a rosy red hue now. “What?”

  “It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure something out. This week and a half has been amazing but I’m still trying to process what this all means.”

  I love you, Amy.

  “Okay.” She nodded, exhaling but calmer. “You’re right. It’s not like you’ll disappear into thin air tomorrow.”

  The server came out with our Brussels sprouts, which were topped with Pancetta. We forked them one at a time from the same bowl in the middle of the table. Skeptical as I’d been about ordering sprouts, they were actually quite good.

  “You know, it’s actually kind of cute watching you try to verbalize your feelings.” She flashed a smile at me and seemed less anxious.

  I chuckled a little. “Yeah, well, I kind of suck at it, if you can’t tell.”

  She grinned, which made me feel less anxious. While we ate, I watched Amy for a few seconds. I was flattered by the idea that she thought I actually helped her deal with her depression, but mind over matter was only one part of dealing. I would never fault her for thinking she needed her meds and I hoped she really was doing okay without them.

  I could still tell she was nervous about something because she was playing with her food. “Don’t like it?”

  She looked up and frowned at the sprouts. “I like the bacon,” she said.

  I laughed, and when she joined in, everything felt right again. Then she gave me a look, the kind that made me wonder what she was up to. “What is it?” I asked.

  “Just that…there is so much more to you then most people will ever know,” she said, with a lot of emotion. “Hell, I think I’ve started to get to know you, and I’ve barely scratched the surface. Which is why I have something for you.”

  She reached into her purse, pulled out an envelope, and set it between us on the table.

  “What’s this?” I asked, just looking at it.

  She smiled. “I did a little research for you on something that I thought you might like to know. Or should I say someone.”

  “Someone?” I furrowed my brow. For some reason, a pit formed in my stomach. “What someone would I want to know about?”

  “Well, I was thinking about our conversations. Now, and in college, and you definitely still have some loose ends you should tie off. Closure. And I think it’ll help you to know who your birth father was. And, if you want the chance to meet him.”

  My eyes went wide, adrenaline spiked through me. “My birth father? What the…what the fuck?” Slowly, I picked up the envelope, not sure what to think or feel.

  She tensed up, her eyes darting to the envelope to my face. “I thought you’d like to know, because…”

  I flipped the envelope around in my hand, but didn’t open it. “I haven’t met my father for twenty-six years of being alive and there’s a damn good reason for that! Does this tell me who he is? What’s in here anyway?”

  “If you don’t want to open it, then don’t.” There was pleading in her voice. “I thought it might help you deal with some of your…issues.”

  “My issues?” I raised an eyebrow at her but she said nothing, speechless for once. It was one thing to wonder and not know, and another to
have this dropped on you like a bomb. I felt hot all over, my heart was beating hard in my chest and I knew I was about to lose it. “All right, I just, I can’t. I need a second…”

  Abruptly, I got out of the booth and stormed off towards the bathroom. I splashed water on my face, trying to calm down. She’d crossed a line, and I was on the brink of saying something I couldn’t take back. So she wanted me to meet my father. Maybe I should meet him. Maybe that would be good for me. Maybe…

  Our conversation about him rose to the surface and while I understood this gesture was coming from a meaningful place, it wasn’t any of Amy’s business what I chose and her pushing me down that road of my past wasn’t her choice; it was mine.

  I straightened the sleeves of my blue button down and unbuttoned the top button. Was it just me, or was it getting fucking hot in here?

  I heard a knock on the door. No one else was in here with me. I opened it up and found Amy standing there. Her cheeks were fully flushed.

  “I’m sorry,” she began, her tone serious and looked on the verge of tears. “I shouldn’t have brought that up to you. It’s not my right to tell you if you should or if you shouldn’t find your father.” She shook her head. “I just…I thought if anyone could give you a push toward confronting that part of your past, it would be me…”

  “I know what you mean,” I said, picking up where she trailed off. I raked a hand through my hair. This shocker from anyone but Amy and I would have gone ballistic. “You thought we had a really special connection. And you know what, we fucking do.” I paused. Amy was right, in that my biological father has been MIA my whole life but his impact on me and my mom was forever. My ‘issues’ stemmed from his defection of our family. If anything, confronting him, really meeting the man he is, might help me. “Maybe you’re right. I should find more about my father. Christ, I don’t know. Sometimes I think I’m beyond fucked up, and if I talk to him it’ll just mess me up more.”

  As we stood in the doorframe, she looped her fingers around my belt. “I didn’t mean to mess with your mind or anything like that.” I smiled, looking down at her. The emotion in her eyes spoke volumes, conveying just how sorry she’d been to rock the boat. My boat.