by Van Barrett
I glanced over at Liam. Looked like reality was setting in pretty hard for him, too.
“Listen … Paul …” he said, his face buried in his hands. “That didn't mean anything, okay?”
“Of course not.” I laughed. “What could it possibly mean in the first place?”
“I dunno.” Liam scratched his head. “I just don't want you to get freaked out. I think we both got caught up in the moment, and …”
He trailed off. Because what more could he really say?
“Shit happens,” I said as I zipped up my jumpsuit. “I'm just, uh, glad to know that nothing's wrong with me, y'know?”
Liam blinked at me blankly.
“No erectile dysfunction, I mean.”
Liam cleared his throat. “Yeah, no, definitely not. You are certainly operational in that department.”
“Awesome.”
Liam still sat in the same place on the floor. I neared him, reached down and stuck my hand out for him to shake.
“Hey. Thanks again, dude … for the check-up, I mean.”
“Right, sure.” Liam took my hand and we shook. “Thank you for the ride home.”
“Yup. Don't mention it.” I lowered my voice. “Please don't tell anyone at the shop about what happened here, okay?”
“Of course not. I'd never, Paul.”
I started to make for the door—but then my conscience held me back. I let out a deep breath and turned around to say one last thing.
“Listen, Liam. When the shop calls you with the quote tomorrow, you should flat-out refuse to have any work done to it. No matter how much they try to scare you. Understand?”
His brow grew heavy. “Is it because of what we just did?”
I sighed. “I'm trying to save you money. Just turn the quote down and go to Venzetti's.”
Liam folded his arms with a huff. “But …”
“I'm only trying to save you money, Liam.”
And with that, I headed out the door.
***
I had tunnel vision the whole drive home.
All I could think was,
Whoa.
On one hand, I didn't want to accept it—the fact that I'd just gotten blown by a guy. Part of me almost wished I did have some medical condition that could be treated with a pill.
On the other hand?
I didn't just like being with a dude—I loved it. Liam completely drained my balls of everything I had. I'd never felt so satisfyingly empty in my life.
(Even though just thinking about our moment made me hard again, and I knew I'd jerk off the second I got home.)
It all seemed so obvious now. Not just my struggles with women. But other things, too. People from my past. Feelings that I never could make sense of, or tried to ignore.
Puzzle pieces started falling in place, whether I wanted them to or not.
“God damn.”
Chapter 9
Felon
Liam
The next morning.
I slinked into my office, hoping not to be seen or asked about the state of my little investigative report. I'd made things so complicated by this point, I'm not sure what I even could tell Angela.
All I had to do was simple: bring my damned car to Scud's, let them go wild and run up all sorts of charges and bill me for work they didn't do, and catch it all on camera. The end. Angela would handle the rest.
What happened instead?
I'd gotten tangled up with a hot, young, and apparently bi-curious mechanic, who was basically pleading with me not to have my car serviced at Scud's. If I keep pushing to have the work done? I don't know what he'll think, but I know he'll be suspicious.
With the way I let my personal sex life get in the way of this assignment? I don't think I have what it takes to be a reporter. I'd be one of those reporters who spends a couple weeks with a crazy cult to tell the world what they're up to … only to somehow get roped in by the cult instead, and end up drinking their kool-aid.
What's the matter with me, anyway? How am I so deluded, desperate and dumb to get in this situation in the first place? I dunno, but Angela should've assigned somebody else to the case.
I plopped into the old office chair I knew I didn't deserve. A cloud of dust emerged from the cushions, lit by the morning sun that filtered through the Venetian blinds.
Sigh.
The desk phone rang shortly after Angela arrived.
“Morning,” she said. “You got a sec to update me?”
“Um, yeah, sure. Be over in a sec.”
I hung up and let out a sigh.
Should I come clean? Say I'm not fit for the job?
Or was there some other solution?
I still didn't know when I headed over to meet with Angela.
***
I sat before Angela. I knew she could read my face.
“So?” she asked. “How's it going?”
“It's going,” I mumbled.
“Tell me about it.”
“So I took the car back to Scud's at the end of the day yesterday.” I stalled for time. Tapped my fingers on her desk. Took a deep breath. “They're going to check it out and give me a quote today.”
“Okay. Sounds normal enough.” Angela tilted her head and studied me. “So why do you look so—so devastated?”
“Devastated?”
“Yeah. You look awful.”
“Thanks.”
“No offense. I'm just saying, you look like you've got bad news to share, Liam.”
Oh for God's sake.
I pondered it: whether I should tell her or not. I knew that this was my job on the line, though. If I told her? I'd get yanked from the assignment, and rightfully so. But … there was still a chance I could make things work. Somehow. Maybe.
Angela, meanwhile, continued to stare at me, waiting for her answer.
“Okay. So, after I dropped the car off at Scud's, Paul gave me a ride home.”
She took a long, deep breath that said it all: she was on to me. “And?”
“I know what you're going to say, and I know it's going to sound crazy. But I think Paul might actually be able to help us here.”
“Sorry—say what?”
“Yeah. First with the Venzetti's card. Then, yesterday, when he was leaving my place--”
“What was he doing at your place?” Angela asked with shock.
Whoops. Shit.
“Nothing. Okay, if you have to know? Since the guy thinks I'm a doctor, he wanted me to check his blood pressure real fast.”
Her palm went straight to her forehead with a smack. “Oh Lord, Liam. What the hell are you getting yourself into?”
“I couldn't turn him down! But hey, really, it's okay. I got it all under control. My Mom's a nurse, remember? Paul's blood pressure is great, so everything's fine there, too.”
“So glad to hear he's in good health,” Angela quipped sarcastically. And tendons bulged in her neck as she worked her jaw back and forth.
“The point is,” I said, rising a finger into the air, “on his way out the door, he told me to refuse whatever quote Scud's gave me. Basically implying they're going to rip me off.”
“And this is good … because?”
“Um, because it confirms they're ripping people off? And the fact that Paul told me means he's a good guy and might be useful somehow? Like, maybe we could convince him to do an interview?”
“Were you wearing your camera-glasses? Did you get him saying these things on tape?”
“Well, er, no …”
Her palm quickly became reacquainted with her forehead once more.
“But I could, Ange, I easily could.” I paused. “I think. Maybe.”
“Well, this all sounds very promising, Liam,” Angela began in a not-so-genuine tone. “But I've gotta say, I'm frankly disappointed with the job you're doing. You're turning something simple into something very complex.”
“You're right,” I said, slumping in my seat. Truth be told, I was disappointed in myself, too.
“Hey, c'mon, that's not fair. You said it yourself earlier, that I'm a good judge of character.”
“You're actually putting yourself in harm's way by having him in your home, Liam.”
I laughed out loud. “Oh, please.”
“You don't know who you're dealing with, Liam.”
“Sure I do. He's a simple-seeming guy. A mechanic with a good heart, tragically stuck toiling at a dishonest shop.”
She let out a frustrated laugh. “See, you say things like that, which is why I'm worried.” She reached into her desk drawer for something while she talked. “You see a handsome face and you start trying to romanticize his life, and justify why he's a good person.”
I rolled my eyes. “If you talked to him, you'd see he's not like the others that work there.”
“Oh yeah?” she asked in a way that seemed to taunt me—and then she held out a manila folder and dangled it in the air. “A handsome man like Paul couldn't possibly be a lying criminal, right?”
Why did I feel like this was a trap?
“Uh …” I stammered.
“You wouldn't think, for example, that someone so charming and honest could be a felon—right?”
Felon?!
My eyes narrowed with surprise. “Huh?”
Angela slapped the folder on the desk in front of me and flipped it open. I stared at the piece of paper before me. My stomach dropped with disappointment.
And yeah, I'll admit it, it shocked me. I felt like a sucker.
Because there was Paul, looking a little younger and a lot more miserable, standing in a police mug-shot. The height chart behind Paul told me, as a matter of fact, that he stood at 6'1.
“Wow,” I mumbled. “Okay, yeah, I'll admit it. I'm surprised. Where'd you get this?”
Angela chuckled. “It's public record.” She pointed half-way down the page. “See that? Grand theft auto.”
“Grand theft auto,” I repeated, still stunned.
“Think about that, Liam. A mechanic charged for grand theft auto. Need I say more? Would you take your car to someone with a history of stealing cars?” Angela guffawed. “That'd be like, taking your sick dog to—er—to a dog-napper, I guess.”
I raised a brow. “A dog-napper?”
“Yeah, you know, a person that steals dogs.”
“Right. Flawless analogy.”
Angela waved her hands through the air. “Liam, the point is, you can abandon any fantasies about getting this man,” she stamped her index finger on Paul's pretty criminal face, “this felon, involved with your report. Just get out of their way and let the scummy shop do their thing. Stop trying to hijack the narrative with a bigger story—that's not how we do things here.”
Hmmf.
“Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes,” I surrendered. And I felt as if I suddenly grew a tail—just for the express purpose of wedging it securely between my legs.
“Good.” Angela nodded firmly. “So, when Scud's calls you later, you're going to accept their quote, so we can move ahead and meet our firm deadline.”
“Right. Got it.”
I stood and showed myself to the door, sweating bullets of hot embarrassment.
***
The call came at the end of the day. I answered, praying silently,
please don't be Paul, please don't be Paul
“Hello?”
“Heeeeeeey! If it isn't Doogie Howser,” the voice on the other end mocked.
I let out a breath of relief—whew. It was that moron, Carl.
“Just kiddin' ya, kid. It's me, Carl, over at Scud's. So here's the deal. We got your Legend on the lift today and took a look, and …” Carl trailed off with a sigh of fake concern. “Gotta be honest, it's pretty bad under there.”
“Oh yeah? What's wrong?”
“All four of your struts are finito, kid. The seals are totally busted, and there ain't even any grease at all left-over in there. Just dirt and rust.”
“Yikes,” I said.
“Yep. Now, see, every time you turn or go over a bump, you might feel or hear that, so I'm betting that's where all that sound was coming from.”
“Okay, so you have to replace them all? Sounds easy enough.”
Carl suddenly sounded inspired. “Yes, but see, while we discovered that, we also noticed both your CV joints are completely shot, too. Ever notice a clicking sound while you turn?”
“Um, maybe?”
“Yeah, well that's what that would be from. You're gonna have to replace those, or you could end up in a deadly, high-speed accident. 'Course, I recommend just replacing the whole axle to be on the safe side.”
“Yikes. So what's the quote here?”
“Factor in parts and labor aaand,” I heard a tapping on the other end, as if Carl were punching numbers into a calculator. I wondered if he actually was—or if he was just striking at random keys on a keyboard for the effect. “Looks like it'll be $2800.”
“Wow. That's a lot.”
“Yeah, well, you could pay a lot more in hospital bills if your car broke down while you were driving, y'know? Or, God forbid, you could pay with your life.”
“Right … yeah … sure.” I rolled my eyes. “Alright then. I'm game.”
“Great. We'll get started on it tomorrow and let you know when it's finished.”
I set my phone down with a scowl. I felt dirty after talking to him—like the griminess of his character could just rub right off on whoever he was around.
Which, of course, made me think:
Paul. Paul, noted felon.
On one hand, it was hard to believe that Paul even had it in him to do crime. On the other hand? He worked for a guy like Carl.
One bad apple to spoil the bunch, after all.
It's too bad, I thought with a sigh. Oh well.
Chapter 10
One Quick Look
Paul
I was elbow-deep in the engine bay of a Chevy S-10, bolting on a new water pump while the last few minutes of the work day ticked away.
And it had been a long work day. I was so worried that Carl, Jim, and all the other mechanics around me would take one look at me and just immediately know.
I'd tried to put my head down and just work, but my mind was completely in the clouds.
Thinking about it.
Obsessed with it.
You know—what happened last night. At Liam's apartment. My dirty secret.
And it'd be easy to get mad as hell and say I was disgusted by what happened, or pissed, or felt like I was taken advantage of, or something like that.
But the truth was …?
Every so often, I peeked out of the garage and saw Liam's Legend sitting in the parking lot. And just the sight of that car triggered a rush of memories. And my cock began to swell with each deep, pleasurable throb, making an embarrassing bulge in my jumpsuit and damn, it was time to bury my nose in that engine bay all over again and think about nothing but nuts and bolts—
Shit. Maybe not the first thing I oughtta be thinking about.
Man, I was a wreck.
I wanted to see Liam again. Just—just to see. To make sure. Because maybe what happened between us was just a one time thing? Like, supposedly, straight guys experiment with other dudes in college all the time these days.
Well, I never went to college. Obviously. I'm nowhere near smart enough for that. I was lucky just to finish high school.
So how the hell was I supposed to get that experimentation out of my system?
Yeah, that's it.
***
While the other mechanics clocked out and headed for their cars, I was still staring at the Chevy's water pump. I shook my head to get out of my funk and started tightening the bolts.
Carl came strutting into the garage. I'd heard him on the phone a second earlier, and
now he was walking with an obnoxious spring in his step.
“And that's how you run a business, Paulie,” he said with a smirk.
I raised an eyebrow at him. “What's that?”
“Just got off the phone with your boy Doogie.” He waved a work-order in front of me.
What? I told Liam to turn Carl down!
“Lemme see that,” I said, reaching for the paper.
But Carl swiped it away from me before I could snatch it. “Not with your greasy hands you don't!”
“I just wanna know what he needs.”
Carl struck a proud pose. “New struts and new CV axles all around, at a very fair price of $2800.”
Fair? Yeah, right.
I sighed. “I'll get to it tomorrow then, Uncle Carl.”
“No, you won't.”
“Huh?”
“You're not going near that car.”
“Why the hell not?”
“With you and Doogie being such good friends now, it might create a conflict of interest.”
Shit.
“The hell does that mean?” I asked.
“Sheesh. You don't have to get all pissy about it, Paulie. I'm having Jim do the work first thing tomorrow.” Carl winked. “Got it?”
I folded my arms and let out a sigh. “Yeah, whatever.”
Carl slapped my back. “Clean up and head home, Paulie, we're closed.”
“I will. Soon as I'm done with this water pump.”
“Suit yourself.” Carl shrugged and headed out to his car.
I watched him drive off, and then I was alone. I finished up work on the Chevy—and when that was done, I grabbed the keys to Liam's car and put it on the lift.
I got under the car, took a look, and shook my head.
I couldn't believe it. I'd warned Liam not to take that quote, and what did he do? He did it anyway. And now he was gonna get screwed.
There was still time—I could talk him out of it. I went into the office, found Liam's phone number, and gave him a call.
“Hello?” he answered.
“Hey. It's me.”
