2. Gil
CHAPTER 2
GIL
I t was a Friday afternoon, the sun setting behind me and casting my garage in a sweltering kind of heat that made it near impossible to keep working. The concrete floor looked painted orange, the rays of the sun reflecting purple and green off a puddle of oil in the corner. My shirt clung to my shoulders and sweat dripped into my eye, everything aligning to tell me it was time to pack it in for the night. I tightened a loose bolt and backed out from beneath the open hood, swiping the back of my hand across my damp forehead.
“You look like you need a beer,” my best friend Jack said from his comfortable seat in the far corner of my garage. He finished the last of his beer, crushing the can in his fist before tossing it into the nearby trashcan. He was situated in the last remaining patch of shade in my two-car garage, the old wooden kitchen chair beneath him having seen its fair share of sun over the years. Jack balanced his weight on the back two legs, rocking into the wall to hold himself up.
“Let me guess,” I asked with a sigh. “That was the last one?”
“Right-o, bestie.”
I unhooked the prop rod and slammed the hood closed. I’d bought my ‘67 Cougar two years ago, and getting it restored had turned out to be much more of a process than I’d planned. I hadn’t given her priority, though, instead spending as much time on my motorcycle as I could manage. Jack liked to tell me I couldn’t outpace my problems on the bike, but it didn’t stop me from trying. The car was supposed to have been something to focus my attention on after a breakup, and she’d been that and more, which might have been the reason I’d dragged it out for as long as I had.
“You’re the one with a car that runs,” I reminded him. “Why don’t you go get some more?”
“You’re the one with the plush job,” he said with a grin.
“You make six figures.”
“Barely.”
Reaching into the back pocket of my worn black jeans for my wallet, I pulled a twenty dollar bill out and waved it in front of his face. He rocked forward onto the front legs of the chair and snatched it out of my hand.
“How about instead of me going to get another six-pack, you clean up and we head out of town for a drink?” Jack proposed, pocketing my money.
“Is this another of your attempts to get me laid?”
He bobbled his head from side to side. “How long has it been?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t lie.”
I let out a slow exhale, reaching up to trace my finger back and forth across the split scar in the middle of my right eyebrow. The scar was from a bike accident I’d had in my early thirties, the tight skin running from the top of my forehead, over my eye, and down into my cheek. I was lucky, the doctors said. I could have lost the eye entirely, but thanks to the marvels of modern medicine, I’d managed to keep it. My vision was sometimes blurrier on that side than the other, but beyond the scar, there wasn’t much physical evidence of the fact I’d almost died alone one night in the middle of a two-lane mountain highway.
“You know how long it’s been,” I answered, brushing past Jack and heading into the house.
The sound of his laughter followed me inside, but I didn’t bother paying him any attention as I stretched my arms behind me to ruck up my shirt. The dirty cotton clung to my skin as I pulled it up and over my head. Jack detoured into my kitchen as I continued on into the bedroom. Tossing my shirt into the hamper, I popped open the fly of my jeans while I toed off my work boots.
“I take it you’re coming out, then?” he called down the hallway at me.
I kicked my shoes against the wall and shoved my pants down to my ankles. “It feels like a better use of my money.”
“I don’t want to fuck you, Gil, but you’re objectively hot,” he shouted back. “Two years is too long. For you and for anyone who wants to see you naked.”
“I don’t think that’s as flattering as you think it is,” I called to him.
“Just take a shower and put on something presentable.”
I closed my bedroom door with a little more force than was rightly necessary, even though it was nowhere near enough of a divider to drown out the sound of Jack’s laughter. I hated the man as much as I loved him, but I’d never let on to the second part or it would go to his head and I’d never hear the end of it. I’d known Jack for seven years, and I’d nearly lost him two years earlier on account of the fact he was the brother of the last man I slept with.
I got along better with Jack than I ever did with Philip, and when the romance between Philip and me finally snuffed itself out, I worried I’d lose not just my partner, but the man who’d become my closest friend. Thankfully, after a rocky couple months of navigating separating two lives that had become desperately tangled, everything settled and there was Jack again, as friendly and kind to me as he’d ever been. It had been months, almost twenty of them, since we’d even mentioned his brother. It was sort of a silent agreement between us. Our own kind of don’t ask, don’t tell. I wouldn’t ask what Philip was up to, and he wouldn’t offer. I also knew he kept our friendship close to his chest, giving his brother the same silence about me and my life.
Climbing into the shower, I scrubbed the oil off my forearms, knowing there wasn’t anything to be done about the state of my fingernails. I washed my body, shampooed my hair, then rinsed all the suds away and stepped back onto the mat. Jack had told me to make myself presentable, but Sweetwater was a large and boring place, and there wasn’t anyone around that I wanted to impress. As much as it killed him, I didn’t want to cruise. I wasn’t interested in a random hookup with someone I’d run into a week later in the produce aisle. I wasn’t interested in a relationship either. Philip had sucked that right out of me, along with a lifetime of cum, but that didn’t matter much anymore. There was less opportunity to get hurt if I kept my dick in my pants and everyone at arm’s length.
Something crashed in my kitchen, and I knew I’d left Jack unattended for long enough. I pulled on the cleanest pair of jeans I could find and a black t-shirt that had seen better days. It was so faded it was nearly gray, threadbare around the sleeves and worn in the middle of the chest. It clung to my still damp skin, so I dried as much of my shoulder-length hair as I could manage before heading out of my bedroom.
I found Jack in the kitchen, grinning and yanking a drawer open. He slammed it closed, silverware rattling, then repeated the process once more for good measure.
“You’re insufferable,” I told him, shoving my hair out of my face.
“It worked,” he said with a smile. “I was bored and now here you are to entertain me.”
“Just take the twenty and fuck off,” I said.
He shook his head. “That’s absolutely not happening. We’re going to Ridgecrest tonight whether you like it or not.”
“I don’t like it,” I said.
“Cool. I’ll drive. All you have to do is figure out how to talk to people.”
“I don’t enjoy talking to people.”
“That’s why no one wants to fuck you,” he teased.
“I find sex is better without conversation.”
That wasn’t entirely true, but…
“You don’t find sex at all.” Jack gave my silverware drawer one last open and close, then he clapped me on the back and headed for the door to the garage. His Audi was parked on the street, and I obediently followed after him. Even if I had no intention of trying to get laid, I was looking forward to going out with him. I’d never let on, though. His ego would get uncontrollable if he knew how much I truly enjoyed his company.
The fact of the matter was that, on the whole, I didn’t enjoy people. I wasn’t friendly and I was far from social. If it wasn’t the off-putting nature of my facial scar, it was the ice green of my eyes or the flash of white in the front of my hairline that I’d developed at nineteen. If it wasn’t any of those things, it was my height—nearing six-foot-four—or my attitude…the constant frown that marred my features far worse than the scar ever could.
The fact that Philip had taken a chance on me was a miracle in and of itself. Much like my friendship with Jack, I’d been resistant to him at first too, but all it took was perseverance to wear me down. I think, though it was another thing I’d never admit, it meant a lot to me that both of them had tried. In the end, Jack was the one who’d put the most work in, and I put more value in our friendship than I ever had in my romantic inclinations with Philip.
“If I didn’t know you as well as I do, I’d suggest you start therapy,” I said, pulling open the passenger door of Jack’s car and sliding down into the seat. Even though I’d just showered, I didn’t even feel anywhere close to clean enough to be in a car as nice as his, but he was the one who’d wanted to go out, so he could get it detailed later if I left any grease or oil behind.
“I’ll have you know I’m in therapy, thank you very much.” He closed the door on me and went around to the driver’s side.
I scrunched my nose, angling my face toward him. “Since when?”
“Since…” Jack trailed off, his mouth turning down into a frown. “A few months ago? I honestly don’t remember.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t want you to make a big deal out of it.” He shrugged. “Besides, the doctor says it’s just mild depression, nothing to worry about.”
I pulled my lower lip between my teeth, tracing my tongue over the chapped skin. “I was just teasing about you needing therapy, but you know you can talk to me about anything, right?”
“I know, but…not this.” Jack gave me half a smile and turned his attention back to the road. “I’m fine, but let’s just say going out together is as good for me as it will be for you.”
“So it’s horrible,” I deadpanned.
“Yes,” he nodded somberly, taking the next turn a little faster than necessary.
My body slid into the passenger door hard enough to push a grunt out of my lungs, which only made Jack laugh. On the straightaway, he gunned it, and I unrolled my window to enjoy the breeze against my cheeks. Connecting my phone to the radio before Jack could protest, I cranked up the volume on a late-nineties punk rock playlist and closed my eyes, letting the music carry us into whatever trouble Jack was ready to find.
Maybe he was right.
Maybe getting laid wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all.