Page 23 of Boy Issues

Chapter Eight

Silver muttered under his breath as he glanced over the list of parts he’d made for the Morgan. He leaned back in the beat-up office chair that he kept on the garage level to work at the make-shift desk he used to house his laptop. Next to the desk was an old kitchen utility cart that he’d rigged to hold a coffee maker—along with his selection of coffees, creamers and sugar. He also had several mugs for when his buddies stopped by to hang out.

His upstairs living area remained his private domain. Not that he had much in the way of secrets, but his neatness standards tended to run contrary to most of his buddies. Except for Erika and Nico, he never let anyone else up there.

Once Silver had finished adding up the amount he’d need for the first set of parts he’d located, he decided it was time to face Carl. One of the least favorite aspects of his job was to talk to Carl about money. Not that he had any issues confronting him about costs, but the fact that he would come unglued whenever something cost more than a few bucks. Silver hadn’t decided if it was because Carl was acting as if he were still paying seventies prices, or if he was just the stingiest bastard who’d ever lived.

The phone hadn’t even finished ringing once when Carl barked out an answer.

“Yeah? What is it? I’m headed out the door.”

Silver rolled his eyes since his boss couldn’t see him do it. “I have an update on the Morgan. I’ve located the majority of the engine components, the steering wheel and Vinny says he’s got a guy who can straighten and re-chrome the bumper. So, I can at least get the restoration underway with that much.”

“Uh huh. What am I looking at in terms of cost?”

“All told, it should be around ten grand this first round. That’s a steal. I talked Vinny down to three on the bumper alone. He’d originally wanted four.”

“Vinny’s a thief and you know it! Tell him you’ll give him two and not a penny more.”

Silver pressed his lips together and forced himself to remain calm. “I’m sorry, Carl. But I can’t do that. Vinny said he was firm at four, but based on the business I give him from not only your cars, but the ones I’m working on too, he gave me an extra special deal. He wouldn’t do that for everyone. I won’t insult him like that.”

“But you’ll insult me instead. I don’t have time for this bullshit right now, Cruz. Get the bumper for two or go somewhere else!”

With that, Carl disconnected the call and Silver was left staring at his phone in disbelief. More and more, he wondered what he was doing putting up with this cabrón (bastard). He mentally ticked off his savings, what his boss owed him already, his upcoming two-week paycheck from the diner and the potential commission he’d get from the car he’d restored for Carl the month before. The ad Carl was running in the Trader had already gotten some interest.

Silver set his phone on the desk then leaned back in the rolling chair again. He dragged his fingers through his thick hair, tossing the numbers through his head, considering all costs he’d have to cover, including housing if he no longer lived at the garage.

Too risky.

Technically, he could do it. He could walk away right now and get a two-bay garage and either rent a room or find a cheap studio, and probably be okay. He wouldn’t be able to invest in any of his own restoration projects for a while, though. And getting a boy anytime soon would be completely out of the question. Even if he didn’t provide for his boy a hundred percent financially, Silver was adamant that he have the means to do so if necessary. Taking on the responsibility of another human being meant he should plan for every possible contingency.

Silver’s attention was grabbed by a vehicle screeching to a stop in his parking area. He wasn’t expecting anyone, so it was probably someone who’d ignored the signs he had attached to the chain link that parking for the taco truck wasn’t allowed. His buddies at the truck tried to look out for him, but when they got slammed with customers, it was impossible for them to stay on top of starving patrons who couldn’t find a spot on the street.

After jogging the length of the enclosed garage, Silver swung the side door open then froze. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His shock quickly transformed into exasperation, and he marched toward Donovan’s Mercedes to tell him to get lost.

“How the hell did you find out where I—”

Silver gasped at the clumsy, blood-soaked bandage across the corner of Donovan’s eyebrow and another covering the back of one hand.

Silver’s heart raced. “Jesus, Donovan. Get inside right now.”

“I’m sorry for barging over here this way, this wasn’t how I’d planned for it to be.”

Silver sighed as he opened the driver’s side door, then reached across Donovan to unlatch his seatbelt.

“I don’t know what ‘it’ was supposed to be, but let’s get you inside and taken care of before we get into anything else.”

Donovan tried to brush Silver away. “Oh, this is nothing. Really. I was just hoping you’d let me talk?” He peered up at Silver with pleading eyes. “Or, you can talk. I don’t care which one. I only want a chance to…” His voice wavered. “Make you not hate me.”

“Ay, dios mío.” Silver pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t hate you. But we’re not having any discussions out here on Figueroa. Come with me.”

Silver slipped his hand behind Donovan’s shoulders and encouraged him to slide out from behind the wheel. He gently grasped Donovan’s wrist, careful to avoid the injury on his hand.

“I’m so sorry, Silver. You’re a good man and…” Donovan rose to his full height and wobbled. “Fuck. I’m not sure what I am anymore.”

Silver drew his eyebrows together and released Donovan’s wrist to wrap an arm around his waist instead. He slowly advanced them to the door and across the threshold. Once they were inside, Donovan stopped, and Silver waited to see if he might be about to collapse. Instead, he gazed around the expanse of the warehouse style building as if drinking it all in.

“Jesus, what a set-up.” He regarded Silver. “You work here all alone? That man who pays you isn’t here too, there’re no other mechanics?”

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