Screwed

by Van Barrett

  Everything about that situation screamed, Make a move, Liam! He's up for it!

  It was so embarrassing, in a way, how he nakedly laid his erection problem out for me. But as cringe-inducing as it was? Ugh. I couldn't deny it. There was something unbelievably cute about it—how innocent he was.

  Did he really think he was tricking me? Or did he want to get caught? Who knows.

  Then again? Maybe I'm the dupe. Because the truth is, I'm not even sure how many levels of deceit me and Paul were operating on. For all I know, Paul spotted my disguise from a mile away and was just having a little fun at my expense. Hell, maybe he's just seeing how far he could get me to carry on with this stupid lie.

  Because there I was, pretending to be a doctor, trying to sound like I had any idea about medical issues. Erectile dysfunction? The hell did I know about erectile dysfunction?

  Nothing, thankfully!

  And what did Paul know about erectile dysfunction?

  From the looks of it? … NOT A LOT.

  That muscled hottie grew so fucking hard the moment I laid my hand on him. He looked so sexy in his dirty little mechanic's jumpsuit—with his head rolled back, his eyes squeezed shut, and the tiny, breathy noises of frustration he made as he grew harder. Like he couldn't help but get harder and firmer. And he loved and hated every bittersweet second of it.

  Oh yeah. That was stupidly hot.

  It was painfully obvious he wasn't wearing underwear. Because I could see it all. I mean, everything. Just how long and thick he was. The lovely, swooping head of his big dick. And I kept wondering when the hell that mouth-watering bulge was going to stop growing longer, fatter, down his leg. But he had inches for days.

  Ugh. Oh my God. I still get all choked up and hard thinking about it.

  If it weren't for the cameras in that car? Oh, you better believe it—I would've been all over that in an instant.

  My desk phone rang. I already knew who it was: Angela. She wanted to meet me in her office to talk about how my part in the story was going.

  I sighed and let myself cool down for a minute. Then I gathered up my stuff and headed over to her office.

  ***

  “So how'd it go yesterday?” she asked as I took my seat.

  “Good!” I said—too cheerily.

  She must've noticed the dopey look on my face. Her voice had dropped an octave. “You met Paul, didn't you.”

  “Oh, c'mon--” I paused. Then I decided it'd be stupid to lie. Especially with the video evidence sitting on those cameras. “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “First impression? He's one of the good ones. He actually found something wrong with my car. I don't mean a scam, either. He actually diagnosed a problem and fixed it within minutes. And then he told me there wouldn't be a charge.”

  Angela pursed her lips. “Okay. That's weird, considering what they did to Mr. Johnson's wife.”

  “Right. Well, see, I said he's one of the good ones. Because this guy,” I flipped open the folder and pointed out Carl, “definitely seems to be more of the scam-artist variety. He's super blatant, actually. He told Paul to take me on a ride, obviously under the pretense of wanting to find a fake noise to repair.”

  Angela's eyes lit up. “That's promising! So what happened then?”

  I scratched my head. “From there, it got kinda weird. Long story short, Paul actually referred me to these guys if I needed any work done.” I laid Venzetti's business card on her desk. “Basically told me not to bring my car back to Scud's.”

  Angela inspected the business card.

  “Yeah, that's sure nice of this Paul character,” she said sarcastically. “If only he directed all his business elsewhere, huh? Then nobody would have to get screwed.”

  “Okay, yes, Mr. Johnson's wife had a bad experience there, but … I don't know. Don't all mechanics take advantage of people to some extent? It seems kind of crazy to target this one shop, doesn't it? Besides. I feel like I can't go back there now, after Paul told me that. If I do, it'll seem fishy as hell. Don't you think?”

  Angela inspected the other shop's business card. “Think these guys could be in on the scam? Maybe they're part of a network.”

  I laughed. “No, I don't buy that for a second.”

  “No?”

  “No way!”

  She swiveled her chair from side to side while she stared at me.

  “You're smart, Liam, and normally a good judge of character. So how is it that Paul managed to gain your trust so fast?”

  Her tone was loaded. I knew what she was getting at.

  “I get it, Angela, and I don't blame you for being suspicious. But if you talked to him, you'd see it. He's kind of aloof, but in this honest, innocent way.”

  “Charming, even?” she asked with a smirk.

  “Well, yeah,” I admitted.

  “The mark of a con-man.”

  I made a harumph of disagreement.

  Angela waved her hands through the air. “Liam, the point is, these guys aren't who you think they are. And I don't want you to forget that.”

  “Fine. But I still think it'll be fishy if I take my car back there, after what Paul told me. It just won't make any sense.”

  “So, should I put one of the other interns in charge of this assignment? Because the deadline is firm. And it sounds like you're telling me you can't do this anymore. I know one of the others would jump at the opportunity.”

  I winced. “No … no.”

  “Liam, you got this assignment because you've absolutely busted your ass for this station for two years. You're expected to keep doing that if you get a staff position.”

  I sighed. “Alright. I hear you loud and clear, Ange. I'll get back on it.”

  ***

  I went back to my office and plopped into my seat with a sigh. What choice did I have? I'd have to go back.

  It wouldn't make much sense. Paul would sniff me out from a mile away—if he hadn't already.

  But then I remembered something.

  I yanked Walt's desk drawer open and grabbed the trial pack of Viagra.

  “Yes!” I chuckled madly.

  It was a plan so brazen, so obnoxious … that it just might work.

  Chapter 6

  Two Guys in a Car

  Paul

  It was a typical Miami summer day: it rained buckets all afternoon. Around 3:00, the clouds parted, and the sun came out, hot and heavy. The thermometer reached the mid-90's, and the air was so humid, you could choke just trying to breathe.

  It was another typical day at the shop, too. While Carl's lackeys screwed around and did everything but work, I hurried from bay to bay, trying to do as much as I could.

  Working at Scud's sometimes feels like a nightmare come to life. Too often, I see the kind of shit that should grind the gears of any decent mechanic. Like, say, we charge the customer for an oil change—when in reality, no one actually bothered to change their oil at all.

  They show up, pay for an oil change, and drive off—with the same old engine oil.

  To me, that's a sin. It's obviously bad for a car's engine, and more than that, it's stupid. If one of those customers checked their dipstick afterward, and realized their 'fresh oil' was black instead of golden? We'd be fucked—caught red-handed.

  Sometimes, it feels like Carl's begging to be caught. I guess if you get away with a con for long enough, you start trying to get away with worse things.

  Things weren't always this bad at the shop. There was a day when it was an honest place, and we had loyal customers who came here knowing they'd get quality work. We don't have too many repeat customers these days.

  Maybe Carl's right. Maybe I'm part of the problem. If I weren't here, sweating my ass off every single day to try to get to every car I could? This place would collapse in on itself—and people wouldn't be ripped off anymore.

  But that's the problem. I can't go anywhere else.

  ***

  Carl and the other mechanics were in the back drinking bee
rs. I was the last mechanic in the garage, swapping out a faulty alternator for a new one, when I heard a car roll into our parking lot.

  I checked the clock. Five minutes 'til close.

  I peered out from under the hood to see who the straggler was.

  Oh hell.

  It was the same Legend from yesterday. I hoped it might be someone else—but no, those odds were impossible. The door opened and, sure enough, out stepped Liam the doctor. Still wearing that lab coat, too.

  What's with that lab coat anyway? Who is he trying to convince here?

  I grumbled, grabbed a rag to wipe the oil off my hands, and walked out to meet him before he could enter the shop.

  “Hey,” I said, eyeing him suspiciously. “What are you doing here?”

  “Oh, um.” Liam pointed at his car. “Y'know. It's that noise again. Really wish you guys would take a look at it.”

  I lowered my voice. “Did you take it to Venzetti's like I told you to?”

  “Ah.” Liam pursed his lips guiltily. “No, actually, I didn't.”

  “Dude,” I groaned, dripping with disappointment.

  “Look, it's alright, Paul.” He paused. “I trust you guys.”

  My eyes narrowed at him. Somehow, I didn't quite believe him. “Really? You do?”

  Liam dodged the question. “Oh, and there's this, too.” He reached into the pocket of his lab coat, grabbed something, and shoved it into my hand. “I got this for your friend with the problem.”

  I held the plastic and foil packet up. It was a Viagra sample pack. Paranoid that Carl or one of the others might catch me with it, I quickly stuffed it in into my pocket.

  I raised my brow at Liam skeptically. “I thought you said it'd be unethical and illegal to give him these?”

  “Oh, well, it's just a sample pack. We hand those things out all the time, y'know. It's not a huge deal. Your friend should still see a doctor, of course. Just to make sure nothing's wrong.”

  “Well … okay. You didn't have to do this, you know. But thanks. I'm sure he'll appreciate it.”

  “Happy to help, Paul.” Liam gestured at his car again. “So. I help you out, you help me out?”

  I sighed. Apparently, he didn't understand that I'd been trying to help him all along. But what choice did I have now? I couldn't turn him away two days in a row. I'd never hear the end of it from Carl.

  “Alright. Sure, whatever. You know we close in five minutes?”

  “Yeah. I rushed over here to make it in time.”

  “You'll have to leave your car overnight.”

  Liam shrugged. “That's fine.”

  I took him into the shop to fill out some paperwork. Meanwhile, Carl emerged from the back.

  “Well well!” Carl sang. “The doctor's back!”

  “Yeah, he sure is,” I butted in—because the less those two said to each other, the better.

  Carl stood and watched over my shoulder as I filled out the paperwork.

  “We're about to close,” Carl said to Liam, “but we'll be glad to take a look at it first thing in the morning and call you with a quote later tomorrow.”

  Liam nodded. “That's fine. However long it takes for you guys to do your thing, you know?”

  “Certainly. So you got a ride back to your place?” Carl asked him.

  “I can call a cab,” he answered.

  “Oh, you don't have to do that. Paulie can give you a ride home.”

  Oh, great.

  “No,” me and Liam both protested.

  “We insist! We're all about customer service here. Because we play the long game! Ain't that right, Paulie?” Carl slapped his hand against my back—hard, to drive the point home, that he was using my words against me.

  “Sure is,” I said, almost choking.

  I passed Liam the clipboard. “Go ahead and fill this out.”

  ***

  Once the paperwork was done, I grabbed Liam and took him to my car.

  “Hey, this is a sporty little car,” Liam said.

  “Yup.” I unlocked and we climbed in.

  “So where am I taking you, anyway?” I asked as I fired the engine up.

  “I'm over in Glenwood Heights.”

  “Got it.” I put the car in first gear and started driving north.

  Glenwood Heights. Not the first place I'd live if I were a doctor.

  We were both quiet. And I was fine with that. Because, quite frankly, I wasn't thrilled with this situation. I'd never stuck my neck out like this for a customer before—and after Liam, I don't think I ever will again. The guy seemed hell-bent on getting ripped off, no matter how much I tried to warn him.

  Not to mention, riding in a car with Liam again brought back all the embarrassment I felt over my little mishap yesterday. A wave of hot shame swept over me.

  But Liam didn't seem so embarrassed. He kept peeking over at me, and I could tell he wanted to talk.

  “So, tell me about your car!” he finally said cheerily.

  “It's a '90 RX-7,” I answered coolly.

  “Oh.” Liam nodded his head, defeated.

  And then I let out a quiet sigh. If he really wanted to talk so bad, I figured I should just say what was on my mind.

  “You know, I don't mind giving you a ride home. But I really wish you would've taken your car to Venzetti's instead.”

  “Why?”

  I gave him a look. “Because of what I told you earlier.”

  Liam huffed. “But Paul … you obviously know a lot about cars. I'm sure you'd do a good job.”

  “Yeah, well, the issue's not really about me doing a good job or not.”

  “Then what is it?” he asked, almost reluctantly.

  Argh. This guy just can't take the hint, can he?

  “Nothing. Forget it.”

  “Plus,” Liam added, “I wanted to make sure I could get you those pills. For your friend.”

  I bobbed my head. “Right. Well, thanks again.”

  We drove over the causeway, across the clear blue water and towards the orange afternoon sun that hung low on the horizon.

  The silence between us grew heavy, almost like you could touch it.

  Liam broke the ice. “So why don't you and Chance speak anymore?”

  “Um. After high school, we went our separate ways. Fell out of touch.”

  “Oh.”

  “Why do you ask?” I said, shooting him a side-eyed glance.

  “I think I had something similar like that happen with a really good friend of mine.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. His name was Eric.”

  I swallowed. “Oh. What happened?”

  “Eric got offered an architecture job right out of college, but had to move to Chicago for it. I stayed in Miami to—um—start my residency. He wanted me to move with him, but obviously, I couldn't.”

  My heart started to thump in my chest. That didn't quite sound like the same situation as me and Chance. That sounded like something else. Was Liam trying to tell me something?

  “I see,” I said, my voice husky.

  “Yeah, we don't talk anymore either. Sucks when life takes you in two different directions, huh.”

  “Yeah …”

  ***

  We neared Liam's place. I pulled up outside his apartment. “This it?”

  “Yes.” He unbuckled his seat belt. “Thanks for the ride, Paul.”

  “No problem.”

  “And remember. Tell your friend to see the doctor.”

  Liam winked at me. And I knew he knew.

  Ah, hell.

  “Fuck it. Lying's dumb and you probably already know, so I should be honest with you. The Viagra isn't for my friend.”

  “What?” Liam smirked. “Who is it for, then?”

  I rolled my eyes. “It's for me. And I can tell you already knew that, anyway.”

  “Well, I wondered—but …”

  “Yeah, yeah. So now you know: I can't get hard.”

  “For some reason, I don't think that's quite true.”
Liam pursed his lips, and the twinkle in his eye said it all.

  “Ugh. I know what you're getting at there, too.”

  Liam tried to play dumb. “What? Am I getting at something?”

  “Yeah. We don't have to dance around it. I popped a random stiffy when we were in your car together. It didn't mean anything, though. And that's part of my problem, you know? They're just … random. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. It's frustrating. I don't know what to make of it.”

  “Right,” Liam trailed off, chuckling.

  “And, frankly, that boner is another reason why I wish you would've taken your car to Venzetti's. I don't need word spreading around the shop about what happened back there. The guys would never let me hear the end of it.”

  “Who the hell would I tell, Paul?” Liam scoffed. “Look, I'm a guy too—I know it can happen at the strangest times. It's natural! Frankly, after what you told me about your problem, I'm glad you were able to get hard. It shows your equipment's still in working order.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Man. This is so embarrassing.”

  “No it's not,” Liam said with a smile.

  “You sure think this is amusing, don't you?”

  “Sorta, yeah.”

  “Maybe you shouldn't. After all, I saw you were pretty hard over there, too.” My eyes instinctively flashed to his crotch.

  “So? I'm not ashamed.”

  “How can you not be?” I blurted out.

  “I just said, it's totally natural! It happens, Paul. What's the point of being ashamed in how our bodies operate?”

  “Yeah … but … two guys? Getting hard in a car? C'mon, that's weird, and you know it.”

  Liam chuckled quietly, until his laughs tapered off into a long, frustrated groan.

  “What? What?” I badgered him.

  “Nothing.”

  “No, tell me. I wanna know.”

  Liam took a deep breath—like he had to prepare himself for what he was about to say. “It's just that some people don't necessarily think 'two guys getting hard in a car' is the weirdest thing ever.”

  A pause followed. One that lasted an eternity.

  “You mean …” My throat got too dry and tense, and I couldn't talk. I had to clear it. “You're saying that you're into guys. That's who Eric was, right? Your boyfriend?”