Common Powers

by Lynn Lorenz

  “Fix it? No way. Doctor said it was a torn meniscus. Needs surgery.”

  “So why didn’t you get it fixed?” Sammi asked from across the table.

  “No insurance. Surgery is expensive. It’s nothing I can’t live with.” He shrugged.

  “But what if I could…ease it a bit? Massage can work wonders.” Edward gave Phillip’s arm a squeeze, then flicked his gaze to Sammi.

  God, the last thing he wanted was anyone feeling sorry for him or thinking he could get better with a little massage. If he didn’t stop this, Edward would never let it go. The man was just like his little bulldog.

  He reached out and put his hand over Edward’s hand. Let it go. Drop it.

  Edward sighed. “It’s up to you. I won’t mention it again.”

  Sammi gasped and slapped the table. “That’s what it is!” He stared from Edward to Phillip and back.

  “What are you talking about?” Edward cocked his head to the side.

  Rush sat down next to Phillip. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m not sure.” Phillip took a bite of his ham sandwich.

  Sammi leaned over and whispered, “Phillip, Edward, I need to see both of you, right now.” He got up and left the room.

  Edward shrugged at Phillip. “I guess we should follow, but we’ll never beat that dramatic exit.” He rose and Phillip glanced to Rush for permission.

  “Go on. If you don’t, we’ll never get back to work.”

  Phillip joined the other two in the living room. Sammi dragged Phillip down on one side of the couch and Edward on the other.

  “What’s all this about? I can’t be wasting time here. I got to get back to work.”

  Sammi huffed. “I’ll make it short and sweet. You’ve got a power, Phillip. I don’t know if you know it, but you use it to make people do what you want, right?”

  All the blood in Phillip’s body rushed to his feet and for a moment, he thought he might faint. No one, other than his mother, had known about his power. It had been a matter of survival to keep the secret.

  He peered at Edward, who leaned over and spoke to Sammi, “You said he was special.”

  “I just didn’t know what it was.”

  When he found the ability to speak, Phillip croaked out, “How did you know?”

  “Remember.” He pointed to himself. “I can hear your thoughts. I heard you suggest to Edward to drop the massage stuff and he did. Just like that.” He snapped his fingers.

  “He tried to…control me?” Edward put his hand on his hip and looked put out.

  “No, it’s not control, it’s just sort of influencing. I’m sorry, but I just didn’t want to keep being reminded I’m not…whole. I didn’t mean any harm.”

  “I forgive you.” Edward patted his thigh. “Just don’t do it again.”

  “I won’t.” Phillip sighed. “I promise.”

  “So, Edward, are you going to fix Phillip’s knee?”

  Phillip groaned. “Not that again!”

  Edward laughed. “Okay, the way I see it is something in the cosmic universe has put all of us together.”

  “All of us?”

  “Yes. People with powers. I know it’s weird, but believe me, it’s true. Sammi can hear thoughts, I can heal people with my touch, Rush can see in the dark and Brian gets premonitions.”

  “That’s all.” Phillip blinked at them. “Hey, what about Jack?”

  “Oh, he’s normal and so is Mitchell.” Edward waved his hand. “But they know about the rest of us.”

  Phillip sat back and digested this. “So, this is some sort of town that gathers weird people?” Sounded like some TV show on one of those sci-fi channels. And just as unbelievable, if he didn’t have a power himself.

  Edward gasped. “I never thought of it that way.”

  “Can’t be. Mitchell and I live in Houston.” Sammi shook his head.

  “This is nuts. Can you really heal my knee?” Phillip whispered because saying it aloud would be tempting fate.

  “Yes. I can.” Edward put his hand on Phillip’s knee. “Will you let me?”

  “Uh, sure. What the hell. Either it will work or not. Can’t say I got much to lose.”

  The weight of Edward’s hand grew heavier and a warmth spread beneath it, flowing into Phillip’s knee. His breath caught, but he didn’t move as the heat and tingling increased.

  Then, as if all the heat and pain flooded out of him, relief in his knee grew until the pain was gone. Vanished. Like it’d never been there. Holy crap!

  Edward released him. “Okay?”

  Phillip stood, bent his knee a few times. “It’s… It’s…” He walked to the stairs. No limp. Not even on a good day did his limp go away, much less the pain. Going up and down stairs was the hardest for him.

  He took the stairs one at a time. Pain free. He didn’t even have to use the banister. Climbed to the top then started back down. Edward and Sammi stood at the bottom, gazing up at him.

  “It’s gone! The pain is gone.” Phillip laughed. “I can’t believe it. Is this some sort of placebo thingy?”

  “Nope. It’s fixed. I healed the tear. You’re back to normal.” Edward grinned.

  Phillip jumped the last four steps and landed in front of Edward. He grabbed him and swung him around. “Thank you!” Winston barked at them as he chased them around in a circle. Then Phillip gave Edward a big kiss on the cheek.

  He laughed as Phillip put him down. “You’re welcome. Us weirdos need to stick together.”

  Rush strolled in. “What’s the celebration?” He looked from Phillip to the guys.

  Edward came over to Rush, rose on his toes and whispered, “I just healed Phillip’s knee. He’s all better.”

  “Oh.” Rush’s eyebrows rose. “So, he knows about you?”

  “And you, and Brian and Sammi, too. We told him.”

  “Wait. You told him about our powers?”

  “Yes.” Sammi clapped hands. “He’s got one too.”

  Before Phillip could stop Sammi, he’d spilled the beans. Not what Phillip had wanted.

  Rush turned to him. “A power, huh? What is it?”

  Phillip groaned. What if Rush found out and thought he’d used it to get a job? This could be horrible, but he should be honest. No way he could lie about it, not with Sammi and the others right there.

  “I can sort of…influence people.”

  Rush put his hands on his hips. “I’m not sure I like the way that sounds. Explain that to me, son.” His eyes narrowed.

  “Well, if I touch you, I can push you into thinking of doing something.”

  “Like I wanted to heal him, and he influenced me to drop it,” Edward added.

  Rush stood there, and Phillip could see the wheels turning. It wasn’t good.

  “Look, I’ve never used it on you or Brian. Never. I wanted to get the job by myself this time.” He covered his mouth. He hadn’t wanted to let that slip.

  “This time?” Rush growled.

  “Yeah, well, I sort of influenced the manager at the garage to hire me. But I was desperate!” He reached out to Rush, who took a step back.

  Phillip couldn’t control his bottom lip’s quivering. He’d fucked up. Bad. Rush was going to fire him. All his dreams would be ruined. Fuck my life.

  “I swear I never tried it with you.” His words came out weak and he hated the sound of them.

  Sammi came forward and stood in front of Rush. “Rush, listen to me.” Rush brought his gaze down to Sammi. “He didn’t use it on you or Brian. I can hear his thoughts, you know. He’s not lying about it.” He put his hand on Rush’s cheek. “Phillip needed to do this on his own. He needed to not be”—Sammi glanced over at Phillip—“a beggar?” He smiled. “To choose his own path and make it happen. Right?”

  “Right.” Phillip ran both hands through his hair. “And I did it. I proved to you I could handle this job. I was so happy…” He slumped into a chair. “But I’ll go, if that’s what you want. I understand if you can’t trust me.�
�� He stared at his boots.

  Rush let out a big breath. “Son.” Phillip raised his head. “I got to have your promise, as a man of honor, you won’t ever use it on anyone here at the ranch. You proved to me you can do that job. I want you to stay. Besides, if I fired you, Brian would kill me.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Part of having this sort of power is learning when and how to use it or not use it. Control is key, get it?”

  Phillip nodded.

  “Hey, is the party over? We got to get back to work!” Manuel shouted from the kitchen.

  “Be there in a second!” Rush answered. “Now, come on, son. Let’s get going. There’s still hours of daylight to burn.” He punched Phillip’s arm in a playful manner.

  Phillip hooted. “Yes, sir! I mean, Rush!” He glanced back at Edward and Sammi. “Hey, y’all, thanks for being my friends. What can I do to thank you?”

  “Well…” Sammi bit his lip. “There is something, if you have some free time.”

  “What is it? Name it!”

  Sammi looked at Edward, took a deep breath and whispered, “I want to ride a horse. Can you teach me?”

  Phillip laughed. “Of course! Let me make sure I can do it, clear it with Rush and Manuel. But sure, I can teach you to ride.”

  Sammi hugged him. “I can’t wait!” He let him go and looked at him as if he’d just won the lotto’s big prize.

  Phillip slapped him on the back. “Gotta go.”

  Phillip followed the other men of the ranch out to the corral, where they caught their horses, mounted up and headed out to finish their chores.

  Damn. His heart couldn’t take much more. If Rush had fired him…he’d have just given up. Left Spring Lake and gone to Houston, to whatever waited for him there.

  Now, he didn’t have to worry over it. He’d found a home here. New friends. People who understood him. And accepted him for who he was and what he could do.

  He didn’t feel like a weirdo anymore. He felt like…a normal man.

  A normal man with a big date tonight with Estaban.

  “Yeehaw!” Phillip slapped his reins on his horse’s rump and she broke into a gallop. He waved his hat in the air and stood in his stirrups, letting the wonder that was life raise him up as if he had wings.

  “Slow down, cowboy!” Rush shouted.

  “Darn fool kid!” Manuel laughed.

  “Hey, wait for me!” Joey chimed in.

  But before Phillip could catch his breath, the men, no, his friends, rode by his side, all of them waving their hats and hooting like…

  Cowboys.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Estaban climbed into the driver’s seat of the cherry-red Ford SUV parked in the front lot of the garage. He sat back, closed his eyes and wrapped one hand around the steering wheel. With the other hand, he turned the key and listened to what the car had to tell him. Mechanical things had been ‘talking’ to him for as long as he could remember.

  The engine rumbled into life and input flooded into Estaban’s mind as if he were plugged directly into the vehicle. Along with the vibrations he picked up through his contact with the wheel and the seat, the smell of the exhaust through the open door registered whether it was the right aroma or a bit off or a lot. He inhaled. Smelled fine, no oil burning or water overheating, and no rubber hoses melting.

  However, the sputtering of the intermittent exhaust, giving not a steady stream of gray, sent him searching for more evidence of what he suspected.

  There. The rhythm of valves stuttered. He focused deeper. It was as if the entire engine was laid out in front of him. Each part identified. Working. Yes. The second spark plug wasn’t firing.

  He gave it a little more time and a listen, but nothing else touched him.

  All the car needed was that plug changed. A simple, inexpensive job. Nothing to be worried about, or dangerous to the driver, but it should be fixed. To him, letting a vehicle run ‘wounded’—as he thought of it—was just wrong. And fixing the wounded he came in contact with had been his life’s calling.

  He closed the door, backed out of the parking space, drove the SUV into the left bay and stopped. He turned it off and got out. For show, he popped open the hood and leaned over it, pretending to look for the issue, but his thoughts strayed to Phillip.

  His heart had danced every morning he’d walked into Smith’s Garage and seen Phillip. When the first flare of attraction had hit him, about the second week Phillip had started working, he’d told himself Phillip was far too young for him, and that he wouldn’t want Estaban. So he’d played it cool, pushing down any urges to touch, or smile into Phillip’s eyes. Joe Smith, the owner of the garage, had stressed his business stood for Christian values, which Estaban translated into ‘if you’re gay you’re not wanted here’.

  Estaban buried his feelings, kept his head down and did his work.

  But Jesus, the younger man brightened his world like no one else in a long time.

  Now, with Phillip gone, the place depressed him. It became what it truly was—just a garage.

  He needed his Phillip fix like a junkie needed a hit. And why the hell had it taken him so long to get up the courage to woo Phillip? Right when Flynn goes and fires him. And at Christmas. That was certainly not Christian behavior.

  And that guy who’d come into the shop, outing Phillip? The one who’d beat him up? Hell, all he’d wanted was to put his hands around the guy’s throat, to smash his smug face in, and to kick him to the curb.

  Fucking asshole.

  Letting his anger get the best of him, he banged his fist on the edge of the fender. No one should put their hands on Phillip like that. No one.

  “What’s wrong?” Jimmy, the scumbag, looked over from changing the oil in a foreign sedan in the last bay. If anyone should be fired, it should be him. The hydraulic lift had the car suspended over Jimmy, and for a split second, Estaban wished for a mechanical failure. But he let his ill will dissipate on the chilly wind blowing through the bays.

  “Nothing. Just figuring this out.” Estaban grimaced. Why the hell did Jimmy have to inhabit his world, work here, make his work life hell? But it wasn’t just Jimmy. He was a small part of it—Flynn and Smith were a bigger part. Their homophobic stances made working here like walking a tightrope every single day, keeping a large part of himself hidden. And Phillip had been a casualty of their hatred. Christian, sure. Keep telling yourselves this is what Jesus would do.

  Not for the first time, he wished he didn’t have to work here, but Smith’s was the only garage. And Spring Lake was where his family had roots, and they needed him. No way could his mother survive without him—she needed his help maintaining the house, both physically and financially. His brother and sister had moved out, had their own growing families to care for, and Estaban was alone, with no one, so the obligation fell to him. Not that he minded—he loved his mom.

  But how could he forget his loneliness, if they kept reminding him of it all the time, unaware of how much it hurt to hear they’d given up hoping he’d find someone? They assumed here in Spring Lake, small-town Texas, he’d never find another confederate soul to love him. He’d never mentioned Phillip, because, well, really, there was nothing to tell. He’d never worked up the courage to flirt, much less tell Phillip of his attraction.

  But when Flynn had fired Phillip, Estaban had decided it was time to take a leap into love, or at least dating, before Phillip walked farther down the road and out of Estaban’s life. They weren’t working at the same place, so no danger in Flynn or Jimmy suspecting anything between them. Maybe Phillip’s dismissal had been the best thing for them both.

  Estaban sighed and wiped his hand with a shop towel. He pushed his work and family problems out of his head for now. Tonight, after work, he was going out to the Double T ranch to pick up Phillip for dinner. A huge grin broke out on his face just thinking about it.

  He sobered. It was time to let Flynn, working the counter, know the SUV’s problem so he could get the authorization to do the work.
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br />   Estaban entered the front office and walked up to the counter. Most days, customers sat around, sipping coffee and reading out-of-date Texas Monthly magazines. Today, it was empty. Well, it was the day after Christmas.

  Flynn’s face was contorted in a grimace as he scratched his head.

  “Can’t figure out the computer, boss?” Estaban leaned on the counter. He kept his tone bland. He didn’t want Flynn to think he could help him—he wanted Flynn to wish every minute that he hadn’t fired Phillip. Jerk.

  “I got it.” Flynn looked up. “What’s up with the Ford?”

  “Got a bad plug. Shouldn’t take long to pull it and put in a new one. Mark it down as thirty minutes’ labor.” Part of Estaban’s job was to estimate how long it’d take him to do the work. Usually, Phillip would add the cost of the part, plus ten percent overage, then call the owner and let them know. That was Flynn’s job now.

  “That’s all? Thirty minutes?” Flynn frowned.

  “Yes.”

  “Can’t you stretch that out a bit? Maybe they need the whole set replaced? Might as well do it all now, right?” Flynn winked at him.

  Estaban blinked. What the hell? Was Flynn trying to get him to pad the work?

  “Uh, we don’t do that here, boss.” Something crawled down his spine. Joe Smith might be a lot of things, but he never cheated anyone. At least not since Estaban had worked here.

  Flynn glared at him through narrowed eyes. “You don’t run this place, I do. Do the full set, Martinez.” He waved him off with a flick of his hand, then he went back to staring at the computer.

  Estaban turned and walked out, feeling all kinds of dirty. Sure, some shops might pad the work, but Smith’s was known for being honest, not just Christian. Man, what would Phillip say if he knew? Hell.

  What would Smith say if he thought Estaban was in on it? He’d be fired, as sure as the sun rose in the morning. Who the hell did Flynn think he was to put Estaban’s job in jeopardy? He fisted his hands and strode back to the SUV.

  No way would he do more than what was necessary. He picked up the clipboard and filled out the worksheet. At least he’d have a record of his work—a correct record. He filled in the form, wrote his findings and signed off on it.