Page 1 of Flash

Chapter 1

LEWIS

“Noooooooo,” I shout. Cruising down the back roads with the pedal on the floor, ominous storm clouds gathering overhead, and not another soul in sight is really not the time you want smoke to start billowing from your engine. I guess there’s never really a time you want to see that, but this is a particularly bad time. “No, no, no,” I chant, steering over to the shoulder. “Be a good car and don’t explode, please.”

What? Like I’m a mechanic? Talking nicely to her is bound to be just as effective as anything else in my skill set. Unless putting together a lovely floral centerpiece or deepthroating a cock is the secret to engine cooling, I’m pretty much out.

The check engine light has been on for so long that I figured she was just being dramatic. Like, girl, have an iced coffee and get your life together like the rest of us. I turn the car off and scramble out, just in case she does decide to go into a full-on meltdown and blast my ass into outer space. I eye the threatening gray clouds rolling in overhead. They’re less concerning than the cloud of smoke coming from under the hood of my car. Maybe a good hard rain will cool her off.

“Fuck,” I groan, pulling my phone out of my pocket and snapping a picture.

LEWIS: What the fuck do I do?

I attach the picture to the message, and it only takes a second before I can see my bestie typing a response.

ROWAN: What? Like I’m a mechanic?

I snort a laugh at how perfectly his response matches my own thoughts from earlier. Then another message pops up.

ROWAN: Personally, I’d get a safe distance away and call for a tow. But I also would have taken it in a month ago when the check engine light first came on, so what do I know.

I groan again.

LEWIS: I can’t. The only tow in town is Big Bull. It’s too embarrassing.

ROWAN: Well then, I guess you’d better start walking.

LEWIS: Why don’t you love me?

ROWAN: Tough love, baby. Just call. I doubt you’re the only customer they’ve ever had who accidentally had porn synced to their car radio.

LEWIS: Liar. They’re probably still laughing about the thirsty twink watching porn in their lobby. Ugh.

I eye my car again and weigh my options, which turn out to be startlingly few. I can abandon her here and walk home, but eventually I’ll have to suck it up and have her towed. Unless she explodes into a million pieces. Then I could just pick them all up and carry her home in bits. Maybe I am rooting for the explosion now. Seems more convenient.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I mutter.

A fat raindrop splashes against my cheek and the smoke finally dissipates. I guess that means an explosion probably isn’t on the horizon. I can’t decide whether that’s a win or not.

Chewing on my bottom lip, I look up and down the quiet road, hoping some Good Samaritan with a tow truck will just happen by. If he’s hot, even better. I count to five in my head, but no one materializes to save the day.

“Ugh, fine,” I grumble, pulling open the search on my phone to get the number for Big Bull Mechanics. Another raindrop splatters on the screen, and I have to pause to wipe it away before clicking on the phone number.

It rings a few times before someone finally answers.

“Big Bull Mechanics, Henry speaking, how can I help you?”

I rush through explaining the smoking engine and giving him my location, telling myself Rowan’s probably right, and no one at the shop even remembers me. It was months ago that the embarrassing porn fiasco happened. It’s not like I was jerking it in their lobby or anything, I was just perusing a little entertainment while I waited.

I can hear the click-clack of a keyboard through the phone, and Henry laughs and then covers the sound with a fake cough.

“Lewis, yeah, I’ve got you here in our records.”

Fucking great.

“Cool, can you send a tow? Do I need to be here for it?” I look down the quiet road in the direction of home. It’s at least five miles back to my place, but walking sounds preferable to waiting here to face whichever stupidly hot mechanic shows up in the tow truck. Another few raindrops splash onto my skin, cooling the heat of the July afternoon.

“I can send someone,” Henry assures me. “Riggs is out with the truck, but as soon as he gets back, I’ll send him your way. It might be about an hour.”

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