Screwed

by Van Barrett

  “Yeah, awesome.”

  Chapter 4

  Friend of Mine

  Paul

  The customer with the huge shades handed me his keys as we walked to his car.

  “Yeah? You really want me to drive it?” I asked.

  “Sure, why not,” he answered. “You've got a better idea of what you're doing than I am.”

  I forced a smile. “Yeah, yeah.”

  Didn't seem right to rip a guy off just because he made for an easy mark. But it wasn't the time or the place to fight that battle all over again.

  We climbed into the customer's car. And, since we were about to go out for a ride together, it felt kind of ridiculous to not know his name.

  “I'm Paul, by the way,” I said, extending my hand to him.

  He took my hand and we shook.

  “Liam. Nice to meet you.”

  Man, this car. Same year, same model, same color, same black leather seats. Everything was the same as Chance's. I ran my palms over the familiar contour of the Legend's steering wheel, letting myself get a little lost in nostalgia.

  Liam, I think, noticed.

  “You really love this car, don't you?” he asked, sounding a little amused.

  “Ha. Yeah. Sorry.”

  He cocked his head at me. “Tell me why. What's so special about the Acura Legend? I should know, since I drive one, right?”

  “Oh, it's mostly personal. I guess it brings back some old memories from my high school days.”

  “Ohhh,” Liam said as if some light had just dawned on him. “Must be about a girl.”

  “Er. A guy, actually.”

  Liam whipped his head around to look at me, and I realized what I said could be taken, uh, the wrong way.

  I went tense. “Oh, no, nothing like that!”

  “Sorry,” Liam chuckled. “I don't mean to pry.”

  “No, really, it's okay. Besides, now I feel like I have to explain myself …”

  Liam shook his head. “No, not at all.”

  “His name was Chance. My best friend since we were both kids. When he turned 16, his parents bought him a Legend. He was the first kid in our class to get a car. Man, sometimes we'd skip school and take off in that car of his, and just drive for hours. Just listening to music and talking about stupid teenage boy stuff, you know? I just have some good memories of hanging out with my buddy. That's all it was.”

  “Yeah, yeah, totally, I can see that.” Liam nodded profusely. “So, you and Chance, you guys still hang out?”

  I winced. “Nah.”

  “Oh. Sorry to hear that.”

  “It's alright. He moved away, went to college, we don't really talk anymore.”

  “Bummer.”

  “It's all good, dude.” I let the burden roll right off my shoulders. “That's another funny thing about you driving this car, actually. Chance wanted to go to med school so he could be a doctor like you. Ha.”

  “No kidding,” Liam said.

  “Yup. But I'm sure he's still got a lot of schooling left.” I narrowed my eyes at Liam. “You're pretty young for a doctor, aren't you?”

  He laughed and waved his hand at me. “Oh, you're too kind.”

  With a shrug, I started Liam's car, and we drove off the lot.

  “So your car's making a noise when you turn, huh,” I asked flatly.

  “Yeah, uh, exactly.”

  We came to an intersection and I turned. But I didn't hear any sound.

  “But … only sometimes,” Liam added.

  “No problem. We can drive around for a while until we hear it.”

  “Great.”

  Somehow, Liam seemed nervous. He kept fidgeting with his hands, and looking all around the interior of the cabin. Was he looking for something?

  “Everything alright?” I asked him.

  “Yep!”

  He stuck both hands in the pockets of his lab coat and shrugged. Something about that gesture seemed boyish. Actually, with his young looks, and his neatly-cropped, auburn hair with striking glints of red—he seemed boyish, period.

  Come to think of it, he looked really young to be a doctor.

  And why was he wearing a lab coat right now, anyway?

  I shrugged it off. One thing you learn real quick when you work with the public: everybody out there is weird as hell. Maybe, because he looks young, he has to strut around in that lab coat in the outside world so people will take him more seriously?

  Who knows. Could be.

  “I guess you must love this car too?” I asked Liam.

  “Huh? Why?”

  “Well, 'cause you're a doctor. Seems like you guys usually spring for Porsches or Mercedes or something like that.” I gave him a smile.

  Liam laughed. “Oh—right—yeah. Um, a fancy car like that, that's not something I'm really interested in until later on in my career, you know? I'm going to be paying off that huge student loan debt for the next, oh, twenty plus years. I'm still very much in scrimp and save mode.”

  “Damn,” I grumbled. “I didn't even think of that. Med school must be really expensive.”

  “Oh yeah. You know it. So, until that day comes, I'll happily drive this ol' thing.” He patted the dashboard.

  I nodded, and we drove on, still trying to find that sound.

  The whole time I drove, I felt like Liam was looking at me; his head was slightly turned in my direction. But I couldn't be sure, since I couldn't see his eyes. His sunglasses were huge, after all.

  But I didn't really need to see his eyes, either. Because I had that sense of being watched.

  “So what's it like, being a doctor?” I asked. “Do you enjoy it? Are you happy?”

  Liam ran his palms over his knees. “Yeah, yeah. It's great.” He took a quick breath. “How about you? You enjoy being a mechanic?”

  “Yeah.” I half-smiled, half-frowned. “I love working on cars, anyway.”

  “I can tell.”

  “Yeah?” I shot him a genuine smile. “How?”

  “It's just obvious. I can see you know what you're doing and you enjoy it.”

  I waved him off. “Ah, hell. You just met me.”

  “Yeah, so? Some things are just plain obvious, Paul. Some people take pride in their work and it shows.”

  “Huh. I guess it's probably the same with you and your patients?”

  “Oh, yeah—I sure hope so, anyway!”

  I saw an opportunity and decided to jump on it.

  “Can I ask you a medical question, then? It's—it's for a friend.”

  Liam swallowed. “Sure, sure. I'll do my best, anyway. It might be hard to give you a straight answer, without your friend actually being here to speak for himself, of course.”

  “Right, right, I understand that.”

  I pulled off the busy avenue and parked so we could talk.

  “Okay. So this friend of mine. He's about my age, so he's definitely still young and healthy.”

  “And how old are you?” Liam asked.

  “I'm 21.”

  “Okay. Go on.”

  I paused. “Man, he'd be so embarrassed if he knew I was telling you this, ha! But it's only because I feel really bad for him, and I wanna help if I can.”

  “I'm listening.”

  “Anyway. He told me he's got a problem, you know, down there.” I gestured with my hand over my crotch. “Can't perform.”

  “Can't perform, as in, sexually?”

  I wagged my finger at him. “Yup. Exactly.”

  “Oh. I see.”

  “Do you think a guy that young could have something wrong with him? Is it possible that he could have something like erectile dysfunction at that age?”

  Liam blew out a deep and thoughtful sigh, like doctors tend to do. He removed his giant sunglasses and pinched the bridge of his nose contemplatively.

  But when Liam looked up at me, and our eyes met? Something struck at me, a bludgeoning to my core, like a lug wrench swung to the gut.

  His sea-foam colored eyes matched the bright
blue ocean water on a sunny summer day at the beach. I didn't tend to think of people's eyes in those terms—but in this case, the two were so similar, I couldn't help but notice it.

  They say eyes are a window to the soul, and I guess Liam's eyes said it all. His eyes were soft and innocent. A good man, I could tell. I knew then that he had to be a good doctor.

  “How's his diet?” Liam asked, rubbing his chin.

  “Whose?”

  “Your friend,” Liam reminded me.

  I shook my head. “Oh! Right.”

  “I know you said he's young and healthy. But a person can look healthy on the outside—yet a bad diet can lead to all sorts of health problems, like poor circulation and blood flow.”

  “Yeah, he eats pretty healthy, I'd say. He eats out every now and then, like everybody else, but overall I'd say he eats healthy.”

  “Does he smoke?”

  “Never.”

  “Does he work out?”

  I felt my bicep instinctively flex in response to his question.

  “Yeah, all the time,” I answered. “He's pretty fit.”

  “Hmm. It's hard for me to say without being able to examine him. Not being able to get an erection at a young age could definitely be a sign that something's wrong medically. It's kind of like what you said earlier about my hunting idle, y'know? A lot of systems are all working together at the same time, and if something goes wrong, yeah, sure, you can't get an erection.” Liam pulled at his collar. “That kind of thing.”

  “But … he can get erections. But only when he's by himself. He just, uh, can't get them with …”

  Liam blinked at me, waiting. “With?”

  “When he's with other people.”

  Liam bobbed his head, as if that added a whole new layer to the problem. “I see. It could be something psychological, then. I'd suggest your friend goes to the doctor for a routine check-up, has some blood work done, etc. If everything comes back normal, he should really consider seeing a therapist.”

  “Okay. Thanks. I'll pass that on,” I said huskily. “But I guess that's another problem. He doesn't have health insurance. So, he was wondering how hard it'd be to get a prescription for a pill that might be able to help him out in that department, you know?”

  “Mm. Yeah.” Liam shook his head. “He definitely needs to see a doctor, Paul, before he takes any medication. It'd be dangerous, illegal, and unethical to give him drugs without a prescription.”

  “Right, yeah, of course.”

  Liam put his hand on my shoulder and rubbed. “You seem like a caring friend, Paul.”

  I stared at the doctor's hand. On my shoulder. Strange sight.

  Strange feeling, too. The weight of a man's hand, gently resting on my shoulder.

  An uncomfortable ache began to pound in my throat.

  Worse? I felt a tingling at the worst moment possible.

  Fuck, are you serious? Right now?

  I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to think of anything else to keep it from happening. But it was hopeless. My manhood continued its torturous crawl through guilt and shame. My cock swelled fatter, expanding between my hairy thigh and the coarse fabric of my jumpsuit.

  The hell is wrong with me?

  When Liam slid his hand off my shoulder, I quickly peeked down at myself. And what I saw made me let out a quiet, defeated groan.

  Jesus.

  I was fully erect. I mean, it was visibly throbbing and pulsing under my jumpsuit. Almost as if I were just begging the good doctor to notice me in all my glory.

  Wow, Paul, I thought to myself. Way to go. Pop a boner in a car with another dude, but not the other night with Leena.

  “Well uh, we should probably head back,” I mumbled.

  “Y-yeah,” Liam agreed, sounding like something was caught in his throat.

  Had he seen? Had he?!

  Fuck.

  He had to. There was no way he hadn't.

  Quickly, I darted my gaze over to Liam. Between his legs.

  Oh fuck me.

  Liam was hard, too—he'd pitched a sizable tent right in the crotch of his trousers.

  Now this was embarrassing as hell for both of us. I got hard in front of a customer, and apparently, that made him hard.

  That was the power of suggestion, I guess.

  Unless Liam's into guys. But I didn't even want to think about that.

  The two of us didn't say another word as I drove back to Scud's. Frankly, I didn't wanna talk to this guy anymore. What happened between us was a freak accident and it was already embarrassing enough.

  When I pulled into the parking lot, I switched off the car and handed him his keys. “Here you go, man.”

  “Thanks,” Liam said. “But what should we do about that noise my car was making?”

  “Yeah … listen. I don't think your car's making any noise to begin with, dude.” With a sigh, I reached for my wallet and gave him a business card. “This here's a shop over in Brownsville. Venzetti's. Good guys, no-nonsense kind of shop. If you think you're having some kind of problem with your car in the future, you should bring it to them. They do great work.”

  Liam's face pinched. “Wait, are you really telling me I should take my car elsewhere for business?”

  “Just between me and you? Yeah.”

  “But … what's wrong with your shop?”

  “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

  “Yes?”

  I groaned. “Trust me. You'll get better service elsewhere, and you might even pay less for it, too. Just don't come back here, okay? Save yourself some grief.”

  “Um. Wow. Okay.” Liam shrugged. “Thanks, I guess.”

  “Don't mention it. Seriously—don't tell anybody I told you that.”

  Liam raised his hands defensively. “Alright, alright, I won't.”

  I climbed out of Liam's car and hurried back to work.

  Once I made it into the shop, I watched the Legend drive off our lot.

  I let out a sigh.

  You'll never see that guy again and you can forget that ever happened.

  ***

  “Yo PAULIE!” Carl yelled for me from the adjacent body shop.

  “Coming.”

  I went through the shop and into Carl's private garage in the back. He was with Jim—his right-hand man—and both were crouched on the side of a BMW M3. The M3's passenger door was smashed in; the driver had obviously been in an accident, although the damage wasn't too bad.

  But Carl and Jim were beating the door with a hammer, expanding and deepening the crater.

  I swore under my breath and averted my eyes.

  Carl thought that was amusing. He offered me a hammer. “Wanna take a swing?”

  “Fuck no. I told you not to call me in here when you're doing this shit, Uncle Carl. I don't want anything to do with it.”

  “Ah, relax, you pussy!” Carl said with a laugh. He dropped the hammer to the floor and neared me. “So what's the deal with Doogie Howser, M.D.?”

  “Who?”

  “The kid. I heard him tell you that he's a doctor.”

  Of course Carl heard him say that.

  “We took the car for a ride, but I didn't hear any noise.”

  “Well no shit, you didn't hear anything. That dumb-ass didn't know shit about his own car. So what did you tell him it was?”

  “Nothing. He wanted to get a second opinion elsewhere.”

  “Paulie, Paulie, Paulie … how many times do I have to tell you this?” Carl rubbed his face with both hands, barely managing to hold back his anger. “The kid was a doctor. He's loaded. But you fix his shit for free! And then, instead of talking him into getting some extra work done—which he easily would've sprung for, mind you—you send him to get a second opinion! He's just gonna take his business somewhere else, you jackass!”

  Imagine how mad Carl would be if he knew what really happened?

  “It's better for us in the long-run, Uncle Carl, if we build trust with the customers instead of ripping them
off. They'll actually come back instead of--”

  Carl scoffed. “There you go again, talking like your old man.”

  “Well? When Dad was alive the shop was--”

  Carl quickly neared and jammed a finger in my sternum to cut me off. “I don't wanna hear about him anymore, Paulie. It's my shop. You seem to keep forgetting that, and frankly, I'm getting reeeeal tired of reminding you of that little fact. If you don't like it, you can get the fuck outta here. Go work for somebody else.”

  I sighed. If only it were that easy.

  Carl went back to smashing the M3's door, mumbling angry nothings about me to Jim.

  “By the way, his Daddy never had to pay the sky-high rent that I have to pay. Up to my damned eyeballs in debt just trying to pay for this dump. Meanwhile, boy genius over there turns paying customers away at the door. Yeah, I should take advice on how to run my business from the moron who does free work! That's rich, ain't it, Jim?”

  I started to walk off.

  Carl called after me. “You and that doctor sure were gone for a while, by the way. What happened? Had to blow off a little steam on the side of the road?”

  Carl and Jim snickered.

  “Hilarious,” I snarled. “Never get sick of hearing those jokes.”

  “Hey, no offense, Paulie. I know a man's got urges, and those don't go away just because he's in the slammer.”

  Jim and Carl had a hoot, slapping at each other's backs.

  I grumbled and walked off, muttering to myself.

  Man, you're such an ass.

  Chapter 5

  A Brazen Plan

  Liam

  The next day.

  I sat in Walt's, I mean my, office, staring into a blank word processor document.

  Ever since my run-in with Paul yesterday? I didn't see a way forward with this beyond-silly sting operation.

  More than that, I couldn't stop thinking about how things had gone down with Paul. Which made working on the assignment even harder.

  All I could think about? It was so, so obvious that Paul's 'friend' with the boner problem was actually himself.

  Shocker, I know.

  I could've sworn he was trying to get me to make a move on him. Why else would he tell me the story of his best friend Chance, which seemed to have some seriously bi-curious undertones?