16. Dylan
Chapter 16
Dylan
D espite my insistence that Jake and I cool things down, he continues to text me like an adolescent girl with a giant crush…and I love it every time he does it.
Most of the time it’s something completely random like when he sent me a picture of the words “caramel macchiato” from the menu at the coffee shop in his building. The message that came with it was made me think of you.
It was corny as hell, but it made me smile.
My dad laughs when the music playing from my phone fades out and my text tone comes through the speakers in the shop. I’m under yet another vehicle doing what I love when he speaks up.
“Things going well with the rich kid then?” His tone is good-natured, but I still don’t like the nickname.
“Dad,” I say in warning from under another Porsche.
I can’t see my dad’s face. It’s probably why our relationship is so good. We never really have to look at each other while we talk.
“All I’m saying is money like the kind he’s got changes people, Dyl. It turns good men corrupt and gives them the resources to hide it. I just don’t want to see your heart get broken when he…when the thrill is gone.”
To prove his point, he asks a different question. “He made any progress ditching the girl?”
I can’t hold back my laugh this time. “ Dad , Cora’s nice. In fact, she’s invited me to dinner with them tomorrow night. Said she wanted to get to know me better before the charity event. And it’s not as simple as Jake just ditching the girl. ”
“You’re going? To the charity thing I mean. Seems a little like playing with fire, don’t you think? Waving Jake’s feelings for you under her nose like that?”
“We aren’t waving anything, because there’s nothing to wave. Jake and I are just friends because that’s all we can be.”
“All I’m saying is be careful.”
We fall into an easy silence as we work our way through today’s jobs. Shortly after three, Cassie comes into the shop, sobbing.
“You guys need to come inside.”
Our dad is at her side instantly. “Cassie, baby, what’s wrong?”
My sister throws her arms around our dad and tries to get her sobbing under control. I throw my pliers in my toolbox and follow behind them.
Standing inside the shop are two uniformed officers. My immediate thought is that they’re here to investigate the vandalism, but why would that make Cassie cry?
With an arm still around my sister, my dad speaks. “What can we do for you, officers?”
The shorter of the two steps forward and offers a hand to my dad.
“Mr. Ryder, I’m Officer McKey, this is Officer Dowdy. We’re letting folks along the street know there was a shooting this morning.”
“What? Where?” I ask alarmed.
“Just down the block. It seems things have really begun to escalate around here and we’re wanting people to stay vigilant.”
“We always are, but who was it?” my dad asks. When the officer looks like he’s about to say something along the lines of we can’t share that information, my dad says pleadingly, “Please, Officer. The people on this street are like family.”
He gives a curt nod and says, “Glynda Waters.”
“Oh, fuck. Is she okay?” I whisper, too stunned for my voice to be full volume.
“She was taken by EMS to the hospital in critical condition. That’s all I know.”
My dad squeezes my shoulder and looks at the officers. “Please finish talking with my son. I need to check in with Glynda’s husband.”
“What the fuck is being done about it?” I ask angrily. It’s not like they could be bothered to help get the vandalism under control. It’s their fault this has escalated.
“We’re setting up patrols of the area, working on pulling camera footage, and talking to witnesses. Which is really why we’re here.”
I scoff as I guide my crying sister over to the worn couch in the office. “You’re going to ask me if I’ve seen anything out of the ordinary? Yeah, I have. Like the brick that came flying through our window a few weeks ago, the cock and balls on the Rogers’ shop doors, their slashed tires, the paint on our bay doors.” I list off the most recent acts of vandalism and watch as the officer winces.
He looks more than uncomfortable. He looks like he wants to say something but an invisible padlock on his mouth is preventing him from doing so. In my state of rage, I call him on it.
“You have something else to say, Officer?” Hearing my sister’s quiet sobs, I move around the uniformed man to the water cooler and pour Cassie a cup. I don’t know why everyone goes for water when someone’s upset, but I don’t have any Cuervo, so this’ll have to do.
“Thanks,” my sister says quietly, taking the cup from me and wiping her eyes.
“I just need to know if you heard the gunshot or saw anything related.” The officer is standing poised with his notepad and pen.
“No. We didn’t.”
In my mind, I can’t help but think, we never do.
“Alright then. Mind if I take a look at your camera feeds?”
I eye him suspiciously, my mind working overtime.
Nodding slowly, I decide to only show him the feeds of the visible cameras: the ones in the garage bays and out back. They hang in the corners of the shop like you’d expect, bulky and very noticeable.
The new cameras are on a different program that goes directly to our phones, so when I use the computer to pull up our original cameras, only the three I’m after show up.
Officer Dowdy clicks through a thousand images of my dad and I working. The program holds on to images for five days and then automatically begins to delete anything that doesn’t have a star marked on it.
“These the only cameras you’ve got?” he asks.
I hesitate ever so slightly before nodding. “Yes, sir.”
He eyes me back warily, like he knows I’m lying.
I’m not entirely sure why I lie anyway. They won’t find anything on the other camera feeds either. Nothing other than Cassie and our customers, but I’m getting a vibe from Officer Dowdy I don’t like. I can’t quite put my finger on it yet, but it’s there. A faint warning bell telling me to hold my cards close to my chest with this one.
I pull into the underground parking garage at Jake’s building with no trouble from the guard this time. All of Jake’s cars are here except the Corvette. Although the clutch doesn’t actually need to be replaced, Jake asked me to keep it and condition his seats until they’re like mine, so Joany’s still at the shop. Truthfully, I like having a piece of him there.
I bristle when I notice there are not one, but two cars in his guest spots. Right as my ignition shuts off, I get a text from Jake.
Jake 6:44pm
I’m really sorry about this. I didn’t know she was coming until she was already here. If you just go with it, I promise I’ll make it up to you.
Wondering who she could be, I grab the flowers for Cora off my passenger seat and head for the elevator. Punching in Jake’s elevator code, my nerves begin to get the best of me and increase with every floor the elevator rises on the way to his penthouse.
A minute later, it spits me out in his foyer and he’s standing there holding a Corona for me. I smile when I see the lime shoved down the neck of the bottle.
As perfect as that is, and as much I want to down the whole thing, I want to run my lips down the column of his throat even more.
How dare he look so fucking good when I can’t touch him. Hell, I can’t even allow my gaze to linger.
I attempt to get myself in check and grab the drink, relaxing now that I’m back in his presence. I’m thankful for these few stolen seconds before I have to watch him play a role that will eventually kill him.
He looks as delicious as always in a pair of jeans and a blue and gray button down. His brown hair is perfectly styled, longer in the front and on top, it’s swept back off his forehead in that neatly messy way that makes it look like post-sex, model hair. But what really catches my eye is the scruff on his face.
I can’t stop myself from switching the flowers to the crook of my other arm and reaching up to trace his jaw with the fingers of my now-free hand.
“I like it,” I tell him quietly.
“You inspired me,” he whispers back, his eyes closing at my touch.
“But it covers up your perfect jawline,” I whisper, leaning in close and placing an open-mouthed kiss under his ear, at the start of said jawline. “And I really like your jawline.”
Also, I’m really fucking bad at this only-friends thing.
“Dually noted,” he exhales raggedly.
Hearing footsteps growing closer, I step away and busy myself by taking a long pull from the bottle in my hand just as Cora comes around the corner.
“Hi Dylan! I’m so glad you could make it!” She places a hand on my shoulder and stands up on her tip-toes to kiss my cheek.
“Thank you for inviting me. These are for you.” I hold the simple bouquet out for her and her eyes widen in delighted surprise.
“Oh, thank you!” She claps her hands together and begins to lead us back to the kitchen where I hear soft music playing. “I briefly thought about hosting this dinner at my house, but I thought you’d be more comfortable here since you’ve been here before. Plus,” she adds with a laugh, “my place is a little stuffier than this and my parents are so nosy.”
Jake immediately defends her like a good boyfriend.
“Cor, your place isn’t stuffy. It’s a beautiful representation of the order, control, and high quality you expect from your life.”
Cora sticks her tongue out playfully. “Makes me sound so boring, doesn’t it?”
I chuckle. “Knowing what you want out of life doesn’t sound boring at all. It sounds admirable.”
Cora gives me a soft smile and pats my arm again as she moves toward the cabinet with Jake’s glasses, no doubt retrieving something to put the flowers in. Glancing at Jake, I catch him staring at her with narrowed eyes like she’s a puzzle he can’t quite figure out.
Before I get a chance to ask him what’s wrong, the sound of more footsteps approach from the hallway to the right of the kitchen.
“Whitney,” Jake starts, “this is my friend, Dylan. Dylan, this is Cora’s best friend, Whitney.”
My stomach sours.
Somehow, I could handle the thought of dinner with Jake and Cora. I was not prepared to have to find ways to politely turn down advances all night…and based on the look on Whitney’s face right now, there will be plenty of advances.
I shake her hand and nod curtly. “Nice to meet you, Whitney.”
Her eyes rake over my frame as her mouth hangs open. “Trust me, the pleasure is all mine,” she says to my chest. When her eyes finally make it up to mine, she inhales sharply. “My God, your eyes are incredible.”
I fight the urge to close them and swing them to Jake instead. Although seeing the heat in his own gaze, I quickly realize closing them would’ve been better.
“Thank you,” I mutter, feeling slightly ambushed.
Sensing my discomfort, Jake pipes up. “Whitney, can I offer you a seat at the table? I think we’re just about ready to serve. Dylan, could you grab plates?”
If Whitney’s on to Jake, her manners don’t allow her to show it. She takes the arm he offers and lets him guide her the four feet from the hallway to the table, and pull her chair out for her.
“Cora, it smells delicious,” I tell her, reaching into the cabinet for the plates.
“Thank you. It’s Jacob’s favorite.”
I make a mental note of it.
Once we’re all seated, I try to keep my eyes off Jake and contribute to the conversation minimally, but the girls basically want my whole life story.
When I briefly skim over the fact that my mom is dead, Whitney’s eyes crinkle in the corners sincerely. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks. It’s been tough, but I’m grateful for my sister, our dad, and the shop. I stay busy enough.”
“And your girlfriend?” Whitney asks, obviously fishing,
“No girlfriend,” I say, looking down at my plate. How would this go if I were to tell them I’m gay? Would Cora become suspicious about Jake befriending me? Would Whitney try to change me?
Without an opportunity to ask him what I should do, I decide to keep that information to myself for now. If Jake finds it relevant and suitable to disclose, he can mention it. He knows I don’t care.
“I find that hard to believe,” Whitney says, skating her hand along my thigh. We’re seated side-by-side with Jake and Cora across from us.
I see Jake’s jaw clench as he watches Whitney’s hand through the glass table top as it climbs higher on my leg. Not wanting his teeth to break, I still her hand.
“I’m afraid I don’t have time or margin for a relationship just now,” I try to explain, hoping she gets the message the first time and I don’t have to repeat myself.
No dice.
She wrinkles her nose. “Yuck. Who wants a relationship? Look at those two. They exhaust me. No offense, ” she says, laughing. “I prefer to have passionate flings. I like the challenge, the chase, and the reward. And then I like to move on.”
What is she offering here? A one-night stand?
Jake clears his throat. “Whit, this is hardly appropriate dinner conversation,” he reprimands the grown woman at my side.
Whitney shares a look with Cora, but she backs off.
“My apologies. Tell us, Jacob, what would you like to discuss?” Whitney isn’t being rude or hateful, but there is definitely a lilt to her voice, like a vocal smirk.
The conversation turns to neutral topics: work, travel, food. Eventually, the conversation rolls around to the vandalism and Glynda’s shooting.
“She’s stable now, but we’re all shaken up. Sure, we’ve had the occasional break-in, mugging, etc… like any suburb of a major metropolitan area, but never anything like this. We aren’t in the slums. We’re middle-class families with small businesses and until recently, our area was experiencing a lot of growth with new construction. Then all of a sudden, our crime rate skyrockets, driving our business down while forcing us to pay outrageous property taxes in order to keep a property that’s rapidly losing value.”
“That’s awful!” Cora and Whitney say in unison. “Have you brought this to your town council? The mayor?”
“Not to be a total dick, but unless it’s directly affecting those with money, people in positions of power are pretty good at turning a blind eye. We’ve tried filing police reports, but they never follow up and our insurance stopped paying out on claims because there were too many. But that’s enough about that. We’ll figure something out. My sister wants to move and my dad is trying to convince me to sell the shop and start somewhere new.”
“That sounds reasonable,” Cora says. “Have you considered it?”
Knowing why the question makes me uneasy, I’m surprised when I answer truthfully. Especially to this room full of people. If pressed to find a reason for spilling my guts, I guess I do it for Jake’s benefit.
“Not really. Selling the shop would feel like losing the last piece of my mom. If we sell it and all move away, it feels like she’s stuck there, alone forever, and we’ve all abandoned her. I can’t stomach the thought.”
Whitney squeezes my forearm and when I look at her this time, I see no scheming, no suspicion like I thought I’d imagined earlier, and no desire. She just looks sincere and mildly uncomfortable when she says, “That’s really sweet. But make sure you don’t overlook opportunities that could be better for you in the long run just because you can’t let go of the past.”
Her advice catches me totally off guard, leaving me without a response, so I just nod.
After dinner, I grab everyone’s plates and head for the kitchen, eager to keep my hands busy. Jake kisses Cora on the cheek and slides his chair back to follow me.
“How about I pour you ladies another glass of wine and Dylan and I will clean up?”
Cora smiles. “That sounds wonderful, Jacob. Thank you.”
He sends the girls to the living room with full glasses and then comes to stand behind me.
Directly behind me.
Pressing into me, I feel his cock twitch against my ass.
“I just need to grab a new dishtowel.” He says it at a normal volume so the girls can hear, but then he quickly drops his voice and whispers, “Are you trying to kill me? Or did you think I wouldn’t notice the way these pants hug your ass?” Instantly, his hands are on me, moving from my ass up my back around to my chest, under my baggy shirt. “And this sweater? Fuck you ,” he whispers, his lips hitting the shell of my ear as he talks. “All it’s doing is driving me crazy because it isn’t hugging your lines and I’m fucking dying because I know what it’s hiding and it’s making me think about it even more.”
I drop my head as my smile widens.
“Do these go in the dishwasher?” I ask aloud, playing along. Spoiler Alert: I’m not holding anything. Lowering my voice I add, “I could ask you the same thing.”
“I’m not the one wearing pants that put my ass and dick on a display fit for a museum.”
I spin around, leaning my back against the counter so our cocks are now pressed against each other. “Would you like me to change?” Just to mess with him, I reach for the button on my pants.
“Hell yes, but not right here !” he says vehemently, making me laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Cora calls from the living room.
Jake’s eyes go wide as he takes a step back. “Dylan’s just telling me about a rowdy customer.” His eyes are full of light as he tries not to smile. “Be have .”
I lean in and trail my tongue up his neck, needing a taste. He starts to groan and I clamp my hand over his mouth, whispering in his ear, “You first.”