I’d decided to work on the couch for the day, my pajama-clad legs propped up on the coffee table as I stared at endless lines of code that blurred in front of my tired eyeballs. Haribo was squished against my side, snorting in his sleep, but he jerked awake when my phone rang.
It was Manson.
“What’s up?” I put the call on speakerphone and set it on the armrest beside me. Usually I took the weekends off, but after last night, I had way too much restless energy and needed to put it into something substantial. Doing any work on the car was useless until we heard back from insurance, so getting this client’s website work finished up was my goal for the day.
“Jess’s car broke down,” he said. His voice was low, and I could hear the tension in it. “Her fucking engine blew the minute she turned the damn thing on.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I do love to see karma at work. You leave her there to figure it out?”
A long silence followed my question.
“Shit, Manson.” I leaned back on the couch, now fully invested as I picked up the phone. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Waiting with her for Ted to get here,” he said. Ted was also known as Mr. Teddy Tow, owner and operator of Wickeston’s resident towing business. Most of our clients arrived on the back of his truck. “We’ll haul her beamer back to the shop and…”
“And what?”
I turned, looking toward the hall. Lucas was standing there, wiping his greasy hands on a towel. He was frowning so deep it looked permanently etched into his face.
“What the hell are you towing her back here for?” he said, talking loudly so Manson could hear him.
“Don’t give me shit for this,” Manson said. “You know you’d do the exact same thing if you were in my position.”
“I fucking would not,” Lucas said. “I’d laugh at some well-deserved justice and flip her off as I drove away. So why the hell aren’t you doing that?”
“I have to say I’m with Lucas on this one,” I said. “Not that I’d be the one working on her car, but…shit, man, after last night? I’m still hung up on revenge fantasies, not being her fucking white knight.”
“Who’s having a revenge fantasy?” Vincent shuffled into the room, looking exhausted as he edged past Lucas. He plopped down on the couch beside me, nudging Haribo out of the way, and dropped his head sleepily on my shoulder.
“Me,” I said. “But it won’t come true because apparently Manson thinks Jess is a damsel in distress. She broke down.”
Vincent snickered, saying to Manson, “Don’t worry, man, I get it. Jess breaks down, stranded on the side of the road, desperately needs help, you come to the rescue, bing, bang, boom, orgy. Sounds like a plan.”
Lucas groaned. “You’re all going to drive me to an early grave.”
“I think Jess will do that first,” Manson said, and he was probably right.
In my opinion, Jessica could fuck off. I’d given her half the spanking she deserved and seeing her again was only going to make me want to continue. Sure, I’d had a fucked-up crush on her since sophomore year and those feelings hadn’t dissipated, but they’d gotten a hell of a lot more complicated. How was it possible to detest someone and yet want them so damn badly?
Insurance was likely going to cover the damage to the vehicles, but it was still a pain in the ass. What was going to be far more difficult, if not impossible, was pressing any charges against the guys who had done it. Our cameras had captured only brief footage of Alex and the others before being disconnected, and considering one of the perpetrators was the son of a local officer, it was likely more trouble than it was worth to try to go after them.
But Lucas and I had already begun discussing our own methods of getting back at those fucks. If you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself.
Maybe that was Manson’s thought process too. But whether he was more focused on fixing her car or fixing her, I couldn’t guess.
Something told me it was the latter.
“Look, just bear with me here, okay?” Manson said, and Lucas and I exchanged a look. “I don’t think she can afford this repair.”
“All the more reason to drive the fuck away,” Lucas said.
“I thought her parents were pretty loaded,” I said. “I don’t think she’s strapped for cash.”
“You know it’s not always that easy.” I could tell Manson was trying to keep his volume down, as if he didn’t want her to hear. “I don’t think she wants to ask her parents for the money.”
“Well, boo-fucking-hoo,” Lucas retorted. “Sounds like you play shitty games and win shitty prizes. Jess can deal with her shit prize alone.”
“Ahh, come on,” Vincent said, stretching comfortably. “I’m sure she can find a way to pay us.”
Something clicked in my head. An idea, a memory, something that rushed through me like adrenaline and sparked my energy.
“We’ll figure something out for her,” I said, and Lucas threw up his hands.
“I fucking give up. You’re all hopeless. Fucking…horny-ass…desperate…” He kept grumbling all the way down the hall and up the stairs. A door slammed, and the old pipes groaned as the shower turned on.
Manson sighed. “He’s pissed off, isn’t he?”
“I mean…yeah. He’s pissed,” I said. “But if Jess needs a way to pay, I think I have an idea.”
Vincent was asleep again by the time the tow truck, Manson, and Jess arrived. I jogged out to the gate with Haribo at my heels to unlock it for Ted, allowing the big flatbed to drive into the yard with Manson and Jess in the Bronco behind him.
Jess hung back in the yard as Manson and I helped Ted get the BMW unloaded into the garage. I kept glancing over to see how she’d react to having Haribo sniffing around her shoes. Slowly, she squatted down and offered the little dog her hand, scratching his chin when he finally gave her a friendly lick.
There were rarely hard feelings with dogs, even a moody little creature like Bo. I almost felt betrayed that he didn’t try to snap her fingers off.
“Thanks, Ted.” Manson knuckle-bumped the driver as he prepared to leave. “I owe you one.”
“See you for the next one,” I said, giving Teddy a wave as he hopped back up into the truck. He was a grizzled guy, pock-marked and gray-haired, but had the biggest heart. He and Vincent could talk for hours, the two of them never running out of stories and cringy jokes to tell each other.
Ted gave us a salute and a smile that was missing a few teeth. “I’ll be seeing ya’, Mr. Reed! Over and out, Zero Cool.” The engine rumbled as he pulled away, dust from his tires drifting through the yard as Manson went to shut the gate behind him.
“What did he call you? Zero Cool?”
I turned. Jess had Haribo cradled in her arms like a baby. The smug mutt was lying there with his tongue lolling out, happy as could be. Little traitor.
“It’s from a movie,” I said, heading back into the garage. “There was this film called Hackers that came out back in the 90s. Zero Cool is an alias for one of the characters. Ted loves his movies almost as much as he loves to tell old stories he only partially remembers.”
“He was very talkative,” she said, a surprisingly gentle assessment. She popped her lips, swaying slightly as she waited for Manson to return. Her lips were pink, glittery, juicy-looking — probably sticky with gloss. I bet they tasted sweet as candy, almost as good as her pussy.
Fuck. I didn’t need to remember that right now, feet away from where it had happened. I’d had my mouth between her legs, I’d listened to her every little cry of pleasure and pain, I’d relished the trembling I was causing in her. It made me mad how much I’d enjoyed it, how the sight of her perfect ass bent over my car made my cock start to harden the moment I thought about it.
She obviously still spent time working out, judging by her toned muscles. I wondered what gym she went to, because it certainly wasn’t mine. It was probably that nice one near the new movie theater, the gym that had a sauna and a tanning bed. I’d been meaning to check that place out. Not because of her, obviously; she had nothing to do with it.
“What did you do to your car?” I said, and she groaned.
“I don’t know,” she said, setting Haribo down. “It’s been making weird noises for a while. Like someone was banging pieces of metal together in my engine. But it still drove fine so I figured it wasn’t serious.”
I burst out laughing. “It’s been making weird noises for a while? What’s a while, Jess?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. A year? Maybe?”
I opened her driver door and popped her hood. I may not have been a mechanic, but I knew my way around a vehicle. Jess came around to peer at the engine beside me, eyes narrowed.
“See that?” I said, removing the oil cap and giving her a good look at the black gunk collected inside. “Motor oil isn’t supposed to be a paste. If oil can’t get through your engine, it’s going to overheat and break. When did you last get your oil changed?”
“Six months after I got it, I think.”
I stared at her in disbelief. “Six months after…you mean in high school? You haven’t had an oil change in over four years?”
Manson came back just in time to hear my outburst. He paused for a moment, looking as stunned as if I’d said she fueled the damn thing with hair spray.
“I was busy, okay?” she said. “I didn’t drive that much in college unless I was coming back home.”
“Right, yeah, of course,” I said. “Did you cheat in all your classes there too?”
It was a low blow, but Jess had been aiming low ever since I’d met her and she obviously hadn’t changed. I was looking for a fight though; I’d admit that. Seeing her face right next to my thrashed Z didn’t exactly make me feel warm and fuzzy.
“Okay, okay, let’s be nice,” Manson said, getting between us. I innocently put up my hands and stepped back, letting him do his job. It was his shop so if he wanted Jess as a client, he could fucking have her.
But having her as a client still meant we all had to deal with her. Hence the brilliant payment idea I’d told to Manson earlier. If Jess was going to be coming here as our customer, we needed to make it worth our while. And if she didn’t have cash, then we needed something else.
Lucas finally joined us, stalking into the garage, looking like he wanted to kill something. He was wearing a short-sleeved button-up shirt and his good jeans — the ones that didn’t have massive holes and grease stains all over them. When the hell was the last time he wore something with buttons?
I sniffed as he stood near me, arms tightly folded across his chest.
“You’re wearing cologne,” I said.
His expression didn’t change. “Maybe you should consider doing the same thing. I can smell you from here.”
I glared at the side of his head but still gave myself a quick sniff when he walked away. Lucas went over to Jess, wedging her between himself and Manson in front of the car.
“You guys can fix this thing, right?” she said, her tone eager as she looked between the two of them. I rolled my eyes, perching myself on a stool to watch the show. I already knew what they were going to tell her and she wasn’t going to be happy about it.
“You’re going to need a new engine,” Lucas said, his face contorting with disgust when he peeked inside the oil cap. “And there will be labor costs.” He whipped a small towel out of his pocket, cracking it repeatedly in the air as he stared her down. “There’s a lot of labor involved.”
She sighed heavily. “Okay. Great. How much is this going to cost?”
The laptop we kept in the garage was looking a bit worse for wear since the night of the break-in, but at least it still worked. Manson brought up the spreadsheet I’d made to simplify pricing for the shop, plugging in numbers and estimated working hours. I noticed him input far more labor hours than would likely be necessary, but I didn’t say a word.
He printed the quote, and I grabbed the paper, presenting the estimate to Jess with a flourish. She sharply sucked in her breath.
“Are you kidding me? No way. There is no way.” Her eyes darted across the paper, widening with every line. “Why is labor so expensive?”
“There’s a surcharge,” Manson said. “For having to deal with you.”
I grinned at the appalled expression on her face. This was even more fun than I’d thought it would be. She sputtered, and her eyes looked like they were going to pop out of her head.
“This isn’t fair,” she said. “This has to violate, like, a law or something. You can’t charge more for just one person!”
Lucas snapped the towel again. “Do you really want to start a discussion about breaking laws? Because we can have that conversation, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”
Jess closed her eyes for a moment, taking several long, deep breaths. When she opened her eyes again, it was obvious she was forcing herself to remain calm. “Look, I can’t afford this.”
“Go to another shop, then,” Manson said simply. “There’s Autosphere downtown. Cheap work and cheap parts. They’re usually booked up for a few weeks, but it’s better than dealing with us, right?”
“Or ask Mommy and Daddy for help,” I said. “I’m sure they’ll fork out the cash.”
I could clearly remember when she’d shown up senior year with this car, still shiny and new, a birthday present from her parents. My parents had bought me a car too. But once they found out I was using it to “sodomize strangers” in the back seat, they’d sold it along with nearly every other gift they’d ever bought me.
It hadn’t had the effect on me they’d hoped for though. Sodomy didn’t require a car.
She glared at me. “I’m not a child, Jason. My parents don’t pay for everything.”
“Oh, well, excuse me,” I said. I leaned back and pulled out my phone, as if the entire thing didn’t interest me anymore. “You’ve never had a problem figuring out how to pay for shit, Jess. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
She’d figured out how to pay me years ago when I finally started demanding compensation for her cheating off my tests and harassing me into writing her essays. I still had the photos she’d sent me on my laptop, saved into an encrypted folder.
It was fucking shameful how many times I’d jacked off to them.
“How long will it take to fix the car?” she said. She actually sounded like she was trying to be reasonable.
Lucas shrugged. “How long will it take you to pay us?”
“I don’t have —” Her voice had gotten louder again. She stopped, paused, and lowered it. “I don’t have the money to pay you right now.”
“We also take alternative payment methods,” Manson said, and a grin spread over my face.
“Alternative payment?” she said, frowning in confusion. “What, like, Bitcoin?”
“If you don’t want to pay with cash, maybe you have something else of value,” I said.
Jess looked utterly lost. “Are you trying to get me to sell my organs or something?”
Lucas, who’d been in the shower when I’d told my idea to Manson earlier, also looked lost — only he appeared significantly more murderous about it.
“One moment, Miss Martin,” he said roughly. “We need to have a little meeting with our accountant.”
We gathered together at the far side of the garage as I explained. We discussed it in sharp whispers, Manson and I teaming up to get Lucas on our side. I’d expected him to put up more of a fight but once I’d explained — and after a long minute of him grumbling about how “it had better be worth it” — he agreed pretty quickly.
We turned in unison to face Jess again, catching her off guard.
“So, who’s buying my kidney?” she said, a very nervous smile on her face. She had no idea how close she was to the truth. But it wasn’t random organs we were interested in.
It was the whole package.
