Mechanic with Benefits

by Mickey Miller

  Amy was special, too special for the likes of me but that didn’t mean I didn’t want to still hook up. However, this moment had more meaning than me just thinking about sex and nothing else concerning her. I knew she meant more to me now and that gave me pause on how I handled her from here on out.

  Amy took another sip of her drink. “How are you feeling?” I asked, looking over at her, referring back to our conversation.

  She smiled at me. It was a little sad still and my anger at her ex flared up again. However, I didn’t want him to ruin my time with Amy. She was opening up to me and I felt like we’d reached some sort of stalemate where we could stop with the games and just be us, whatever that was.

  “I’ll live,” she said. Then she thumbed toward Becca and Le Ral, who were a few feet away from us. “Pretty sure I’m not in as solid of a drunk mood as those two, though.”

  Apparently, things were going pretty well between them because the two were sucking face like a couple of Hoover vacuums.

  “Well done, Mr. Le Ral,” I said out loud, raising my glass in his direction.

  I was on the road to being pretty hammered myself, but our serious discussion had sobered me up a bit. We sat together, shoulder to shoulder for another minute, and I realized something. I might not be with her tonight, but it would happen sometime soon. It was inevitable. And it would be fucking glorious when it did happen.

  “Hey, be right back,” Amy said. “Going to hit up el baño.”

  “Damn, your Spanish is on point tonight,” I joked.

  “Shut up,” she ribbed. She kissed me on the cheek, and again, the kiss felt like it brought a shock down through my entire body.

  I stared at her ass wiggling in her tight red dress as she walked away, and it was unfathomable to me how a girl like that could shy away from sleeping with someone because she thought she was bad in bed. Fuck that. Scott probably just didn’t know what to do with all that. I, on the other hand, already had one thousand and one ideas about how I could handle her.

  As I waited for her to come back from the bathroom, I glanced around the bar. There were a lot of attractive looking girls, but to me, they were more like scenery then anything else. I wanted Amy. I wanted to see how she felt beneath me while I reached around and grabbed her ass, and her legs wrapped around my hips. Then I wanted to take her from behind and feel her ass cheeks against my hips as I slammed into her with my hard cock. Porno? I didn’t need any porno.

  Hell, maybe we’d make our own porno.

  My mind was racing with the fantasy of what I might be able to do with Amy if she wanted it as bad as I did when I felt a poke behind me.

  “Hola Chandler.”

  I turned around and the bad kind of goosebumps came over my body when I saw Norma standing there. She was definitely not who I wanted to see at the moment.

  “Oh, hi,” I said, unsmiling. I really didn’t want anything to do with Norma tonight.

  “It’s so good to see you again.” Though she spoke in English, her accent was thick.

  She plastered on a fake smile like she was so happy to see me, and gave me a big hug for which I braced myself. Even though we were over, I wasn’t going to be a jerk to her in public. Besides, I just didn’t care. I did care if Amy saw us together and thought the wrong thing.

  Norma had the classic Spanish looks of long dark hair, lightly tanned skin and big, dark eyes. She was in a tight black dress showcasing she had a body she knew how to use—as did her mouth when she was making out with some rando the night I ended things with her. She had the smoldering look down pat and it’d lured me the first time we’d met but now it seemed more manic than I’d remembered.

  “Listen, I’m here with someone,” I said brusquely but quietly just to her. I didn’t want a scene. “Can you please leave me alone?”

  She flipped her hair and gave me her crazy eyes look. “Oh, playing hard to get tonight, Papi?” she cooed, leaning in close. The woman couldn’t take a hint.

  “Norma,” I said, speaking sternly. “I don’t know what you want, but I saw you sucking face with some random guy at this very bar just three nights ago when we were supposedly seeing each other. I don’t see a reason for us to remain friends.”

  Her jaw dropped at the strength of my words, but she didn’t move. In fact, they only seemed to egg her on more. Behind her, Le Ral took a breather and glanced at me with raised brows then behind before he looked at me again, like he was trying to tell me something. But I was too busy fending off Norma to read whatever message was in his eyes.

  “You’re such a strong man. I remember why I liked you so much. But of course I’ll leave if that’s what you want.” She reached out and grabbed my bicep. I recoiled at her touch.

  I almost shook her off but instead had to put a hand at her waist to keep her from climbing up in my lap.

  “But is that what you really want?” she asked, in her most seductive voice.

  My patience was thin before, now it was gone. I looked her in the eyes, her face nearly inches from my own. “It’s what I want. Goodbye, Norma. Get. The. Fuck. Away.”

  I saw surprise then anger then resignation in her eyes. “Fine. But I’m always here if you want me,” she added, before swooping in and planting a wet, lipstick sticky kiss on my lips and some tongue before she finally walked away. I turned toward the bar and wiped my lips with a napkin. I ordered another shot just to get the taste of Norma off my tongue and lips. Odd how cheating turned an attractive person into someone you found disgusting and offensive for even sharing the same air as you.

  A minute or so later, Amy appeared from the bathroom. I smiled at her, relieved that Norma was gone and I had Amy back. I felt more at ease in her presence. “What do you think Amy, one more round and we’ll head home?” I reached out toward to help her back in her stool but the expression on her face stopped me cold.

  “No, I don’t think so.” She wasn’t smiling from the eyes like the way she had been before she left for the bathroom. In fact, that telltale shine to her eyes told me she was upset.

  “You feeling okay?” I asked, concerned, but immediately picking up on her vibe. I wondered if she’d had too much to drink but she’d barely had anything other than a sip of a shot and she still had half of her gin and tonic left.

  She had her eyes down, digging into her purse. “I don’t think so,” she murmured, and she really did sound a little sick. “I think I’m going to leave here pretty soon.”

  I put my hand out to her shoulder. She called to the bartender for her tab. I also tagged the bartender’s eye and signaled to get mine ready as well.

  “What can I do?” I asked, getting ready to leave with her.

  “Nothing,” she replied, shrugging my hand off. “You and Le Ral should stay.”

  Whoa. My mind was reeling at her sudden cold shoulder. “Why are you upset?” I asked.

  She didn’t look at me. “I’m not upset,” she said, her voice hoarse. She wouldn’t look at me after she signed the credit card slip and walked over to Becca and Le Ral, who’d gone back to making out. She tapped Becca on the shoulder, who came up for air and was smiling from ear to ear.

  “You ready to go?” she asked, forcing a smile.

  Becca’s smile evaporated as she glared at me and also closed her tab out. I just stood there, baffled. Something had suddenly changed in Amy’s attitude toward me and I didn’t know what it was. I would have gone home with her, especially since we both lived in the same place, but she was clearly sending signals that she wanted to go home. Alone. Without me.

  While I was stumped, Le Ral had a big smile on his face. Becca handed him her number with an equally big smile.

  I still stood there, leaning against the bar, dumbfounded. Le Ral looked like he’d just won the lottery and was waving to them. I didn’t wave or smile back because I was confused.

  “Women,” Le Ral stated with long sigh. “Aren’t they great?”

  Jesus, the guy was practically swooning. “Shut the fuck up dude.” I
punched him in the arm. “Amy just bounced for no reason. Why am I so good with every single girl besides her?”

  Le Ral looked like I had just asked him the most obvious question in the universe. “Dude, she saw you chatting with Little Miss Fake Tits when she came out of the bathroom. She just stood and watched you two talking for a full minute. Her expression seemed like she’d gotten punched in the stomach.”

  Le Ral imitated a slow motion replay of someone getting punched in the gut and going from extremely happy to very much frowning. I didn’t laugh.

  Damn Norma and her fucking timing. All the progress we’d had tonight went totally out the door. I looked at Le Ral. “Fuck.”

  “Well, I guess there’s only one thing left to do now,” Le Ral said, sitting down in Amy’s spot and pushing me to sit back down in mine.

  “What’s that?” I asked, out of the mood.

  “Get shitfaced,” he answered. “Hey bartender, can I have four Ring of Fire shots?”

  He poured four of them, two for each of us. Straight bourbon.

  “Good call, Le Ral,” I said, shaking my head. How had I gone from one high to another low all within a span of a few minutes? “I am going down in a burning ring right now.”

  “Cheers man. Let the flames go higher.”

  I shook my head as I took the hot shot down.

  Twelve

  Amy

  It wasn’t like I’d been surprised that some girl would come up to him and he’d be kissing her, his hands on her, and probably promising to hook up with her later. It’d been a wake up call for me.

  A hard one that had hurt.

  But I wasn’t going to be the girl that he had on the side and everyone knew it but me. I’d seen that exact scenario happen with too many of my girlfriends, and as charming as Chandler was, I wasn’t going to fall into his trap.

  I hadn’t seen him since Thursday morning, and was having mixed feelings about my friendship with him. Then, seeing him at the bar, it’d made me happy. For a few hours anyway.

  For the next week or so after Becca’s birthday party, I tried. I really tried to be comfortable with and around Chandler. But the reality was it just confused me when we went out about town, or visited sites or just hung out watching a telenovela with Maria. We’d even met her new boyfriend and as a result, she was gone most evenings and even weekends. That left a lot of downtime with Chandler and me at the apartment. Alone.

  He didn’t go out a lot either, and to his credit, he didn’t bring girls home anymore. He’d gently asked me a couple times why I’d bailed on him that night, and I’d made up some stupid reason that he’d finally accepted without question. He was also honoring my dumb pact and I was wishing he wouldn’t, which was even dumber.

  The thing was that I really enjoyed spending my time with him and he genuinely seemed to reciprocate. We were actually friends. Even Becca had noted a change in Chandler that she didn’t understand and that we spent a lot of time together.

  We weren’t at that part of divulging all our deep, dark secrets but our conversations were genuine. He talked about his basketball, telling me all kinds of funny stories about his teammates and friends back in Chapel Hill. He bounced off his thoughts about what he might do after he graduated a year from now, if he’d try and work his way into the NBA or just play for one of the European teams.

  I talked about my family, my studies and my own aspirations to go into marketing and PR, but I avoided telling him about my depression. And he avoided talking about his family. But we were learning little bits about each other that made it clear we had a lot of little things in common. It was just the big things that we couldn’t talk about. The things that defined us, at least, in parts. To anyone else, we acted like a couple. Minus the sex.

  When Maria had noted one night, just to me, that she thought Chandler and I made a wonderful couple, it hit me. Right to my heart.

  I couldn’t keep doing this: being friends with Chandler.

  And it just got worse.

  Chandler made me feel special with his smiles and laughter, and our conversations.

  I went for cool neutrality and civility.

  I had to take Ambien every night just not to have dreams about him. I actually looked forward to being numbed by my meds during the day.

  I started to spend less and less time with him. At some point, I could tell I wasn’t faking it that well when I was around him since I’d find him watching me too closely or asking me if I was ‘okay.’ Whenever I said I was fine, which was every time with a bright smile and quick answer, he’d get quiet. Real quiet. What made it worse was that he tried to cheer me up. I wondered where asshole Chandler had gone, it was weird.

  But even in my numbed state, I knew we were impossible.

  We wanted opposite things. Not to mention his likely rejection if he found out about my depression. It was patently obvious that the playboy in him would never go away because that’s how he wanted things. Chandler had already decided his ways and I could tell from the way he’d stated things that no one and nothing was going to change his mind. I could easily like him even more because despite everything, he was a good guy and I’d never felt so comfortable talking about stuff to him. He listened, and he had answers and a response—some I didn’t like—but he stood by them. I could respect his decisions. I didn’t have a choice other than to not let him hurt me.

  By mid-May, I started to avoid Chandler all together. He let me but not without a fight, at first.

  In hindsight, I was silly to think I’d be able to friend zone him. But it was equally silly to believe I could truly have a man like him all to myself. I knew I had to sever ties before I got more attached even as I knew it might be too late.

  Sure, Chandler was sexy as all hell. Quite possibly the sexiest man I’d ever met and he would probably try to wear me down just for the game of it. I thought, perhaps, getting to know him would lead me to discover the human flaws about him, but in the end, they only drew me in closer.

  Becca’s birthday night was the pinnacle of us trying to get closer to one another.

  After another week, he finally got the point. We both seemed to avoid each other in Doña Maria’s apartment as much as we could. I’d wake up early and be in bed early; Chandler would wake up late and stay out late. The encounters we did have were during the family dinners where Doña Maria would insist on us both attending. Which we did, for her sake.

  Chandler was the same attractive man, but he didn’t have the same flame in his eye as he did before I finally shut him down.

  I truly felt I was just being realistic. Just because I thought I had a little connection with Chandler didn’t necessarily make it so. After Scott and what I’d had to deal with, I just needed time to myself and think shit through since it was obvious Chandler wasn’t going to change his colors and I wasn’t egotistical enough to think I could. We are who we are and I wasn’t going to set myself up for any heartache when I could avoid it. I wished I had with Scott. Live and learn, right?

  Through the rest of May, we barely spoke. With Chandler and I barely on speaking terms, my mood had nose-dived and even Dr. Han had started showing concern during our Skype sessions. I was glad that I was an adult and she couldn’t tell my parents without my permission. I wouldn’t hear the end of it. I was back on Ambien again to help me sleep and my meds kept me nicely calm and wonderfully numb. I put my nose in my books and finally started to pick up some more Spanish.

  I also spent as much time out of the apartment as possible, hanging out with Becca and making new friends at the university and from our program. My Spanish had really flourished and even Doña Maria was impressed when we conversed. I’d also stopped going to bars, not just because of my meds. The luster of liquor and that scene was gone. Becca, when she was going out with Le Ral, was always bugging me to go out with them but I hated being the third wheel and just watching them make out and be all lovey-dovey depressed me. Plus, Le Ral would always talk about basketball this and that, and this game th
ey played against that university and so on—and it always included some sort of story about Chandler. Apparently, he was pretty damn good but I’d never gone to see him play. With his moves off the court, I had no doubt he was doubly savvy on it.

  There were several field trips that were part of the program and I traveled as much as I could since I had no clue if I’d ever come back to Spain once this program ended. I knew if I did, I’d just have Chandler’s ghost always there to remind me of the one thing I didn’t get to do. I didn’t travel outside of Spain too much, but there was plenty of time in the future.

  My parents and brother were loving all the pictures I was posting on my weekly social media accounts and in my emails. Not once did they ask how I was handling my depression so I guess I was really faking it well when we talked. I didn’t feel depressed, not like times before, which was ironic since I knew my mood was at an all time low. Admittedly, my meds helped me focus on school and made it a little easier to stop thinking so much about Chandler. What I was feeling…was sad. Not depressed sad, just wishing things could be different.

  And I finally went on that date with Javier, and while I didn’t find myself attracted to him, Chandler was right: he was very happy to help out a brown-eyed American girl with her Spanish. I wasn’t sure what Chandler was up to, but while the late night visits from ladies hadn’t continued, he was back to his night owl ways.