Festive
MurderVictim
LovelyComplex
Melissa
Aces Away
VampiretwilightFT: AJ Tyler
Includes Dom's Garage Employees:
Eiran Goldstein & Chris Reyes
@LovelyComplex & @Grimoire Gaming
Small FT: Decky Boaz @Aces Away
Includes Dom's Garage Employees:
Eiran Goldstein & Chris Reyes
@LovelyComplex & @Grimoire Gaming
Small FT: Decky Boaz @Aces Away
With KIIS-FM radio station playing ‘Shut Up And Dance’ by Walk the Moon through the garage’s sound system, Eiran Goldstein spent this early morning drinking his black coffee and straightening up his office. Call him old fashioned but he liked the radio. It was less work than spotify, apple music, the youtube, or whatever these kids use nowadays. For the most part, he didn’t mind the latest hits. It kept him informed, up-to-date, and hip. Without the radio or the news on the TV, or his son who read articles on the web, Eiran would be considered, especially during this day and age, an old dog. An old dog that just had a hard time learning new tricks. New tricks like learning how to use a smartphone that could break if you didn’t buy a hefty case with it.
He wasn’t that old. He was thirty seven but with his upbringing, the only thing he cared about learning was the ins and outs of the garage. Everyone else can deal with the new software for the computer when Dom upgrades things every couple of years. Everyone else can keep the books in check and make sure they got inventory when they need parts. Everyone else can understand the business side of things while he focuses on the grease.
Something about keeping up with the times... just didn’t mesh well with Eiran Goldstein. He was a good mechanic, one of the best, but learning new gadgets and gizmos hurt his goddamn brain. Thank Hashem his son, brothers, nephews, Chris and all their friends were smart enough to get a keurig machine to work. Shit was hard! He remembered the days when he’d be grateful to even have water to drink, now they’re here living like kings with fancy coffee makers. Stupid technology.
He was in a good mood though. There were no calls from school that his family needed bailing. There were no calls from the cops that his family needed bailing. There were no calls from the power duo that was his wife, Devorah, and his best friend’s fiancée, Junie, that he, himself, or Zo needed bailing from. He’d consider that a good day when none of his family needed a get out of jail free card. With the music at a reasonable level, where he could hear the bell if someone entered the garage lobby, Eiran put his coffee mug on the desk and started dusting. His mug had a picture of him, his wife, and his son on it and over their head there was text that read: World’s Best Dad. He did a subtle head bob as he walked around the office with a rag and wiped down the shelves, counters and furniture.
Lifting picture frames of his family, having a frame for all those he loved — his garage family, his immediate family, his nephews, his brothers, his best friends, and all the gearheads that made the garage their second home — Eiran smiled to himself. He was proud of how far they all came. To think he used to sleep at graveyards just to get away from his parents. That was until Hershey was born. Now he had a home, he had a son, and he was able to take care of all his family. With the help of his wife and best friends, of course. And Dominic Tyler. He couldn’t have done any of this without Dom providing a stable source of income and a small pad to crash at for a bit until his crew was able to settle and build a proper life with security, safety and soundness of mind.
After wiping down the last bit of side table, holding a picture of the Boaz brothers in one hand, Eiran heard loud music from outside, louder than HIS music, and an even louder, abrupt honk. Maybe he spoke too soon about the sound of mind thing. This was a place that somehow had the worst teen drama and angst and that was solely because the heart of the pack was a DRAMA QUEEN. AJ-Fucking-Tyler. Nothing like his father. More like his mother. “Mordechai better not be with him,” Eiran grumbled under his breath.
Leaving the rag behind, knowing Chris was occupied with a job, Eiran left his office just when the bell rang. Today was Chris’ shop day and fortunately for Chris he had a part time job here. Eiran had no qualms for the boy to get paid with money AND credits. Eiran liked doing business with WVC. It was a good place. Set kids like him and Chris on the right path. He didn’t attend. By the time he settled in LA he was too old, but if he had the option when he was younger, he would’ve. When he reached the lobby Eiran stopped in his tracks. Dom’s son’s eyes were bloodshot, his face was wet, and his hair was going every which way because of the wind. This was not Eiran’s wheelhouse at all.
“Where’s Chris?” AJ unhooked his glasses off his shirt and put them back on his face, thinking that would be enough to hide the stress and pain boiling inside of him.
“Usual spot… back there. Doin’ a brake job. Uh, you…” Eiran stopped himself. He knew how AJ would answer if he checked up on him. Instead he decided to just leave it to Chris to do the heavy lifting. He didn’t get paid enough to be on AJ babysitting duty. “CHRIS, AJ IS HERE FOR YOU!” Rubbing his neck, Eiran cleared his throat, “There’s donuts… in the break room. If you want some.”
“I’m good, thanks,” AJ responded, giving a weak smile and trying to pretend that he didn’t want to jump off the nearest cliff. His phone vibrated. He checked it and saw that Decky texted him. As he made his way to the garage, he texted back:
The response came back immediately.
AJ paused when he saw Chris’ feet from under a car. Should he? Or would that ruin Decky’s day? Biting his inner cheek, anxious, he decided to give into his impulse, knowing this could backfire and bring up a painful conversation later. He needed to, though. He was worried and Decky was one of his best friends.
The length of the message that eventually came through on his phone did not match the wait it took to send it.
Despite hearing Eiran call out from the front that AJ was here for him, Chrysler kept working at his current task. His job and internship at the garage was something, and perhaps the only thing, that Chris took seriously. Besides Emmy, of course — the two aspects of his life that he really didn’t want to fuck up — his future, if he had any choice in the matter.
A few moments passed before he heard the sound of footsteps in the bay he was stationed in for the day. There was an even longer pause after the footsteps ceased, the only noise coming from the wrench Chris was ratcheting a bolt tightened with.
“You’re quiet…” he said without sliding out from under the car he was replacing the brake line on. A quiet AJ was never a good sign.
“Isn’it a Friday too? Don’t ya have school or some shit?” The same could be asked of Chris, but Fridays were his internship days at the shop, which he got school credit for and was actually required for seniors at WVC. The internship day, that is, not specifically one at a garage. The Westwood Vocational Center taught all manner of trades.
“Yeah, I guess so,” AJ whispered back, pocketing his phone and trying to gather his thoughts. The thoughts, his regret, the pain, and the fucking downright horror of what he did, replayed over and over and over in his mind. He looked at his hands, hands that were that of a man, hands that had power to heal and harm, and hands that hurt Jamie. Fidgety, he cracked his knuckles, debating if this was a mistake. Should he have just gone about his day? Should he have chased Jamie down? Should he have said he was sorry? Should he even be here? What was he even doing?
His father sometimes got angry, but he never hurt his mother, and if he did try to assert his dominance, she would slap him in the face or get violent. His mother was absolutely terrifying when she got angry. Why didn’t Jamie get violent? Why didn’t he fight back? Why didn’t he just… hate him? It would’ve been so much easier if he hated him but those eyes, that final gaze of pain in his eyes, fucking ruined AJ. He hated this. He hated this feeling so much. He went in thinking he was doing the right thing, breaking off their fuck buddy arrangement, but it only turned into him desperately wanting Jamie to admit that he loved him and he loved being loved by him. He just wanted Jamie and it was killing him. Killing him slowly.
He stopped in his tracks staring away from Chris, looking outside of the garage, at all the cars passing by. The more he pressed replay, the more he hated himself. The more he wanted to feel nothing. “I know what you’re going to say. ‘I told you so’. But yeah, you were fucking right. I shouldn’t have went back to him. I’m stupid for ever thinking Jamie actually was that into me.” What are you saying? You know he is into you. Just not enough to commit but certainly enough to feel absolute shock after you hurt him.
“Mm—” Chris grunted as he popped the line out and let the old brake fluid drain into the pan he had set out for that purpose. “Ain’t much for ‘I told ya so’s’. I know when I’m right, an’ whether or not ya come to see that’s true is on you, brother.”
Chris bent a knee and pushed himself out from under the bed of the car, aided by the creeper wheeler he was laying on. Sitting up and wiping the oil from his hands with a dirty shop rag, he looked up to his friend for the first time — noting the red cheeks and sunglasses indoors — and sighed. This was gonna be a doozy. “I guess I can donate ya’ my government mandated fifteen, Tyler. C’mon, I need a cig for this.”
The mechanic led AJ out back to his usual break spot, an old wooden bench just around the corner from the dumpsters with an upside down five gallon bucket that had an ashtray on top of it. Fishing the red and white pack of Marlboro’s and a black Bic lighter out of his pocket, he tapped a cigarette out and placed it between his lips before offering AJ one from the pack as well.
“So… what happened?” he asked, taking a large draw of breath as he lit the cigarette into a bright red cherry, drawing the spicy smoke deep down into the darkest depths of his lungs. Healthy? Of course not! Chris was here for a good time, not a long one.
Waving his hand, declining the offer of cigarettes, even if it was tempting, AJ took a seat next to his friend and clasped his hands together. His right foot restlessly bounced as he hunched over, thinking of how to put this. He knew nothing he would say would really get Chris upset at him. Disappointed, sure. But not outright upset because Chris knew AJ well enough to know that whatever was going on with him was something more than who he was as a person. “I, uh.”
AJ Tyler was struggling with finding the right words. His mind was fading in and out of clarity. He was hyper attentive to his surroundings, to his friend, to the aching feeling in his chest, but his mouth was dry, coming out empty. He was scared. The moment he said what he did would be the moment he admitted that he was a god awful person who had no handle over his emotions. That he allowed himself in a place where he was actively willing to harm Jamie because the idea of not having him was devastating and maybe if he had more control Jamie would want him again. Want him in a way that romantic lovers do, not just fuck buddies.
“I met with Jamie and I…” His leg bobbed profusely. “I let him go. But you know how… we get and I, um, I— The words stumbled out like tumbleweeds, following the direction of his heart but leaping and rolling slowly out of his mouth. This was harder than usual. “—I hurt him, Chris.” He profoundly stated, pausing afterwards to unclasp his hands just to roughly rub his face, from his lower mouth down to his chin. “I just got so into the moment that I hurt him.”
“Alright…” Chris said, sighing out a deep exhale of smoke. He squinted up at the sky, and passively scratched at his chin in deep thought. There were a lot of things to unpack in AJ’s words, but as a friend, there was far more to unpack in his actions. He was sweating, pale as fuck, twitching, losing his words and trains of thought. This was more than just emotions or anxiety, Chris knew his boy, and right now, he was tweaking out.
“We’ll get back to that, but first,” he flicked some ashes into the tray on top of the bucket. “Take your sunglasses off. Look me in the eye, right now.” There was a seriousness in his tone as sharp as barbed wire.
“What? Why?” AJ was quick to protest, even going out of his way to stand right up and put distance between him and his best friend. “I don’t see why my glasses have anything to do with me needing you.” There was a tense feeling in his chest and uneasiness coursing through his veins, like he was being cornered. “I’ve been crying, okay, and I don’t want you to see that shit.”
“It has everything to do with it, actually. For why you need me, specifically, and not one of your Hills’ chums.” Chrysler replied casually, remaining seated and calm throughout AJ’s reaction, to show he wasn’t a threat. Not yet, at least. Not until he knew exactly what he was dealing with. “Cuz ya been doin’ more than cryin’, and I don’t really give a shit about that. And you know that. So fine, stay hidin’ behind your shades, I’m still gonna have ya tell me what you’ve done. Because it sure as shit ain’t weed, and it better not involve a fuckin’ needle.”
Chris’ sharp words stung and like a defeated puppy, AJ took off his sunglasses and hooked them on his shirt. He didn’t look his friend in the eyes though. It was clear he wasn’t proud of his actions from this morning. There was a voice that was telling him that he didn’t need Chris. Who was he to tell him what to do? How would he understand how he felt, like really? Chris had Emeline, sure, but that was hardly the same. Or maybe it was. Who was AJ to judge someone else’s love story?
God, he couldn’t think straight and where there was that voice, there was another voice telling him to breathe, be still, and listen. You came here for a reason. Let it play out before you run away and make things worse. He wanted to listen to both but he could only pick one. For now, he’d pick the quieter one. It wasn’t fair to Chris for him to act like a child when AJ sought him out. He wanted Chris. No one else but him. There was value behind that.
“I just needed a little… courage. But maybe I did a little too much because I got pretty amped.” He dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out the remaining snow he had on his person. “Like father, like son, I guess,” he meekly mumbled. He still needed to tell Chris what he did but that part terrified him. What if Chris didn’t like him anymore? Why did he go to Chris specifically? If he went to Decky at least he’d be rewarded with a black eye. He didn’t know why his impulse led him here but it was too late to go back. He was already here so he just had to be patient, if that was even possible, and let things play out. If Chris hated him after this, then he deserved it.
Chris took another long drag from his cigarette. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a tidal wave of relief at seeing that it was just coke in the baggie AJ fished out of his jacket. A rich people drug… it was addictive, sure, but not nearly as dangerous as smack or some of the other opioids going around the streets these days. “Courage, huh? I told you that shit’s for parties, it ain't for when you’re already feelin’ low.” Chris leaned back into the bench, crossing an ankle over his knee while his thumb drummed out a beat on his thigh.
“Makes shit worse. Alright, so you showed up all coked up to see your ex. And you…. hurt him? How? Like ya’ll came to blows or…?” he somewhat nervously awaited the answer. Chris held no love in his heart for the sandy-haired twink that made a game of ruining his homie’s life, but he certainly didn’t wish him injury, or worse… “And sit back the fuck down, please. Ain’t no safer place to be than with me right now, and you know I hate having to look up to people.” Short king problems.
Okay, fuck.
He’d sit back down.
Now beside Chris once more, AJ rubbed his jeans, trying to once again, amp himself up to say what he did. This was a lot harder than it looked like and it seemed that the coke had backfired; hardcore. “I was trying to prove a point,” he started, carefully treading forward, hesitant to sink before he even got to the point. “That Jamie only wants to fuck me because of how I make him feel. If you took out the heart and the fact that I can’t get him out of my fucking head, he’d hate me in seconds. That…” his voice trailed off momentarily as he felt the friction of his pants.
In a way this feeling was keeping him rooted to the chair. Doing something to keep him preoccupied as he spoke his painful truth was a good thing and it felt nice. His pants felt nice. While it probably looked silly, or concerning, it allowed his friend to see someone incredibly weak and stupid. It allowed AJ to not wear a cool mask and reveal how much of a mess he was and it was all because he put himself in a place to be so incredibly codependent on a boy that didn’t give a damn about him. “...that wouldn’t be a bad thing. If Jamie hated me. Maybe it would make things easy, you know?”
Finally, AJ looked at his friend and admitted, “I slammed him against a wall and treated him like a piece of meat. I wasn’t going to go too far, I promise. I couldn’t, or at least I thought I couldn’t… do something like that. All I did was overpower him and mark his neck… which could be hot, in like any other circumstance. He wasn’t listening to me. He was running away, like he always does and I just fucking grabbed him. Oh god, what if I did more to him? What if I have it in me to rape someone Chris? This is so fucking scary. I’m such a fucking horrible person.” And the tears started rushing out and AJ buried his face in his hands. “Why am I like this? Why do I care so much? I just want this pain to stop, Chris. I hate him so much.”
“You don’t, man. You’re right, it’d be easier if you did, hell, I wish you did hate that little shit, but you still love ‘em.” Chris stabbed out the spent cig in the ashtray and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees now. Folding his fingers together, he made a point to only look forward as he spoke, giving his friend the privacy to grieve the loss of his beau, and the loss of a piece of himself along the way. Some actions can’t be taken back, and there’s consequences you have to live with. That’s life, and it’s messy as fuck.
“That’s why your arrangement was never really going to work out, and it sucks that this is how it ended up. But, what’s done is done. Ya ain’t a horrible person, you just weren’t fully yourself with that snow in your system, and Jamie — he pushes buttons. That’s what he does, kid fucking makes a hobby of airing peoples dirty laundry in a shitty school newspaper, but never once looks at the pile of shit in his own hamper.” Chris stopped himself before he got too heated. He really, really did not like that snake.
“I’ma keep it real, what ya did ain’t great,” It was, by technical definition, sexual assault. Chris scratched the back of his head and raked his fingers through his gelled hair a couple of times before lacing his hands back together. “The way I see it, ya got two options, an’ they both kinda suck, but ya gotta choose one. First, you reach out, probably text him, it’s easier to get your words right and not get…. distracted.” As AJ would no doubt be if it was an in person conversation. “And apologize. Be totally for real, say you weren’t sober and you acted out of pocket and that you feel horrible. Be completely honest. And then, no matter what he says or does, just let it all go. I’m so serious, just, never talk again. Move on and start healing, there are literally so many other people out there.”
As selfishly satisfying as it would be to only provide that one line of advice and have his friend follow it, Chris knew AJ too well to leave it at that. The kid felt too deeply. “The second option starts much like the first. Come clean, honest apology, let all them feelings out. And then, say exactly what you were trying to tell him before he tried to run and you… acted out. Put those words in writing. Lay it out blank. Kid’s a so-called writer, right? So let him read it, then. Tell him how you feel, how he makes you feel, and how you want to feel. And if you can’t come to a mutual agreement, then this plan ends a bit like the first. Let it go, no contact, move on, heal, fuck somebody else. Love somebody else. Ya got a big heart, man, I know you got it in you.”
Both options were hard options. Admitting your flaws and coming clean, when he deliberately filtered his drug use from his ex, wasn’t going to be easy. Getting Jamie to listen, actively, wasn’t going to be easy. Letting go, well, that sounded damn near impossible. He was right, though. Of course Chris was right. He always was. He had a clear conscience and was a perfect third party. Not caught in the drama and heat that was Beverly Hills High.
Both options sounded painful but which one was worse? Cutting him completely off and moving on, or saying his peace, seeing the results, and if it still bears no fruit, cutting him off and moving on? Was it worth the effort to keep trying? It was obvious that no matter what he did, he was beating a dead horse. Being in such close vicinity to Jamie was not doing him any good or anyone for that matter. He just needed to decide and commit. Leave it at that. It wasn’t like he was alone. Not really. He had Rye and while it wasn’t love, it made him less lonely. Rye kept him company and it was nice. Maybe Rye was the answer to AJ moving on and finding someone that was good for him.
“Yeah, okay. I can do that,” AJ replied, his voice a little shaky as he tried to convince himself that this would be okay. He had a good support system and that goes a long way with grief. “... like now?” Pulling out his phone, AJ stared at it, debating if he should sober up a little or should he just speak out everything he just did with Chris, now that he’d calmed down?
“Maybe get donuts in you first,” Eiran came out to join them, making his presence known. The moment was coming to an end and soon Chris would need to get back to work. They had more jobs coming their way and lord knows Eiran didn’t want to stay at the garage all day on a Friday.
The whole garage consisted of Jewish men which meant they might all have a nosy spirit in them, especially his younger brother, Hirsch. Tiny little shit was hiding somewhere. “Seriously, you two go get some before Zo eats it all. Fuckin’ guy eating his nerves away because Junie can pop like any day now.”
Chris startled slightly at the voice of one of his superiors at the shop. He checked his phone quickly to make sure he hadn’t gone over fifteen on his “break”, if you could call it that. Hearing out AJ was more work than any measure of manual labor sometimes. “You got it, boss” he said coolly, standing up from the bench at long last. He looked back to his friend and noticed the baggie of white powder was still sitting on the bucket near the ashtray. Before heading off to fetch a donut, he said one last piece. A friendly zinger to lighten the mood, a return to the normalcy of their somewhat unlikely kinship. “And take your shit with you, please. Some of us need to work for a living, I ain’t havin’ your ass get me fired.”
“And I don’t want to go back to rehab,” Eiran humored the two, hoping his stupidity at least helped with the mood a little. Where was his wife when he needed her? Devorah was far better at this mushy, emotional shit. He held the door open for the two to come in. “Now come on, let's be fat before we have to be responsible.”
As Chris got up, AJ looked at his phone. He could do this, after a donut. Grabbing his packet, he slipped it into his pocket and followed his best friend and his dad’s confidant into the garage.
AJ was quiet again. The only words he had left to say were for Jamie and that was all thanks to his buddy Chris. This was a good visit. He needed it.
He wasn’t that old. He was thirty seven but with his upbringing, the only thing he cared about learning was the ins and outs of the garage. Everyone else can deal with the new software for the computer when Dom upgrades things every couple of years. Everyone else can keep the books in check and make sure they got inventory when they need parts. Everyone else can understand the business side of things while he focuses on the grease.
Something about keeping up with the times... just didn’t mesh well with Eiran Goldstein. He was a good mechanic, one of the best, but learning new gadgets and gizmos hurt his goddamn brain. Thank Hashem his son, brothers, nephews, Chris and all their friends were smart enough to get a keurig machine to work. Shit was hard! He remembered the days when he’d be grateful to even have water to drink, now they’re here living like kings with fancy coffee makers. Stupid technology.
He was in a good mood though. There were no calls from school that his family needed bailing. There were no calls from the cops that his family needed bailing. There were no calls from the power duo that was his wife, Devorah, and his best friend’s fiancée, Junie, that he, himself, or Zo needed bailing from. He’d consider that a good day when none of his family needed a get out of jail free card. With the music at a reasonable level, where he could hear the bell if someone entered the garage lobby, Eiran put his coffee mug on the desk and started dusting. His mug had a picture of him, his wife, and his son on it and over their head there was text that read: World’s Best Dad. He did a subtle head bob as he walked around the office with a rag and wiped down the shelves, counters and furniture.
Lifting picture frames of his family, having a frame for all those he loved — his garage family, his immediate family, his nephews, his brothers, his best friends, and all the gearheads that made the garage their second home — Eiran smiled to himself. He was proud of how far they all came. To think he used to sleep at graveyards just to get away from his parents. That was until Hershey was born. Now he had a home, he had a son, and he was able to take care of all his family. With the help of his wife and best friends, of course. And Dominic Tyler. He couldn’t have done any of this without Dom providing a stable source of income and a small pad to crash at for a bit until his crew was able to settle and build a proper life with security, safety and soundness of mind.
After wiping down the last bit of side table, holding a picture of the Boaz brothers in one hand, Eiran heard loud music from outside, louder than HIS music, and an even louder, abrupt honk. Maybe he spoke too soon about the sound of mind thing. This was a place that somehow had the worst teen drama and angst and that was solely because the heart of the pack was a DRAMA QUEEN. AJ-Fucking-Tyler. Nothing like his father. More like his mother. “Mordechai better not be with him,” Eiran grumbled under his breath.
Leaving the rag behind, knowing Chris was occupied with a job, Eiran left his office just when the bell rang. Today was Chris’ shop day and fortunately for Chris he had a part time job here. Eiran had no qualms for the boy to get paid with money AND credits. Eiran liked doing business with WVC. It was a good place. Set kids like him and Chris on the right path. He didn’t attend. By the time he settled in LA he was too old, but if he had the option when he was younger, he would’ve. When he reached the lobby Eiran stopped in his tracks. Dom’s son’s eyes were bloodshot, his face was wet, and his hair was going every which way because of the wind. This was not Eiran’s wheelhouse at all.
“Where’s Chris?” AJ unhooked his glasses off his shirt and put them back on his face, thinking that would be enough to hide the stress and pain boiling inside of him.
“Usual spot… back there. Doin’ a brake job. Uh, you…” Eiran stopped himself. He knew how AJ would answer if he checked up on him. Instead he decided to just leave it to Chris to do the heavy lifting. He didn’t get paid enough to be on AJ babysitting duty. “CHRIS, AJ IS HERE FOR YOU!” Rubbing his neck, Eiran cleared his throat, “There’s donuts… in the break room. If you want some.”
“I’m good, thanks,” AJ responded, giving a weak smile and trying to pretend that he didn’t want to jump off the nearest cliff. His phone vibrated. He checked it and saw that Decky texted him. As he made his way to the garage, he texted back:
TO: fellow fuckhead
I fucked up.
The response came back immediately.
FROM: fellow fuckhead
First: U safe?
TO: fellow fuckhead
Yeah. With Chris.
FROM: fellow fuckhead
Good
Talk 2 Chris 4 now
There if u need me
talk l8r if not
Dont piss off my uncles
TO: fellow fuckhead
k… uh
AJ paused when he saw Chris’ feet from under a car. Should he? Or would that ruin Decky’s day? Biting his inner cheek, anxious, he decided to give into his impulse, knowing this could backfire and bring up a painful conversation later. He needed to, though. He was worried and Decky was one of his best friends.
TO: fellow fuckhead
if you see Jamie, can you make sure he is ok?
I’mma go now. ✌️
FROM: fellow fuckhead
Typing…
Typing…
Typing…
The length of the message that eventually came through on his phone did not match the wait it took to send it.
FROM: fellow fuckhead
He’s fine
was bein usual dick self in hr
We’ll talk l8r bout it
Despite hearing Eiran call out from the front that AJ was here for him, Chrysler kept working at his current task. His job and internship at the garage was something, and perhaps the only thing, that Chris took seriously. Besides Emmy, of course — the two aspects of his life that he really didn’t want to fuck up — his future, if he had any choice in the matter.
A few moments passed before he heard the sound of footsteps in the bay he was stationed in for the day. There was an even longer pause after the footsteps ceased, the only noise coming from the wrench Chris was ratcheting a bolt tightened with.
“You’re quiet…” he said without sliding out from under the car he was replacing the brake line on. A quiet AJ was never a good sign.
“Isn’it a Friday too? Don’t ya have school or some shit?” The same could be asked of Chris, but Fridays were his internship days at the shop, which he got school credit for and was actually required for seniors at WVC. The internship day, that is, not specifically one at a garage. The Westwood Vocational Center taught all manner of trades.
“Yeah, I guess so,” AJ whispered back, pocketing his phone and trying to gather his thoughts. The thoughts, his regret, the pain, and the fucking downright horror of what he did, replayed over and over and over in his mind. He looked at his hands, hands that were that of a man, hands that had power to heal and harm, and hands that hurt Jamie. Fidgety, he cracked his knuckles, debating if this was a mistake. Should he have just gone about his day? Should he have chased Jamie down? Should he have said he was sorry? Should he even be here? What was he even doing?
His father sometimes got angry, but he never hurt his mother, and if he did try to assert his dominance, she would slap him in the face or get violent. His mother was absolutely terrifying when she got angry. Why didn’t Jamie get violent? Why didn’t he fight back? Why didn’t he just… hate him? It would’ve been so much easier if he hated him but those eyes, that final gaze of pain in his eyes, fucking ruined AJ. He hated this. He hated this feeling so much. He went in thinking he was doing the right thing, breaking off their fuck buddy arrangement, but it only turned into him desperately wanting Jamie to admit that he loved him and he loved being loved by him. He just wanted Jamie and it was killing him. Killing him slowly.
He stopped in his tracks staring away from Chris, looking outside of the garage, at all the cars passing by. The more he pressed replay, the more he hated himself. The more he wanted to feel nothing. “I know what you’re going to say. ‘I told you so’. But yeah, you were fucking right. I shouldn’t have went back to him. I’m stupid for ever thinking Jamie actually was that into me.” What are you saying? You know he is into you. Just not enough to commit but certainly enough to feel absolute shock after you hurt him.
“Mm—” Chris grunted as he popped the line out and let the old brake fluid drain into the pan he had set out for that purpose. “Ain’t much for ‘I told ya so’s’. I know when I’m right, an’ whether or not ya come to see that’s true is on you, brother.”
Chris bent a knee and pushed himself out from under the bed of the car, aided by the creeper wheeler he was laying on. Sitting up and wiping the oil from his hands with a dirty shop rag, he looked up to his friend for the first time — noting the red cheeks and sunglasses indoors — and sighed. This was gonna be a doozy. “I guess I can donate ya’ my government mandated fifteen, Tyler. C’mon, I need a cig for this.”
The mechanic led AJ out back to his usual break spot, an old wooden bench just around the corner from the dumpsters with an upside down five gallon bucket that had an ashtray on top of it. Fishing the red and white pack of Marlboro’s and a black Bic lighter out of his pocket, he tapped a cigarette out and placed it between his lips before offering AJ one from the pack as well.
“So… what happened?” he asked, taking a large draw of breath as he lit the cigarette into a bright red cherry, drawing the spicy smoke deep down into the darkest depths of his lungs. Healthy? Of course not! Chris was here for a good time, not a long one.
Waving his hand, declining the offer of cigarettes, even if it was tempting, AJ took a seat next to his friend and clasped his hands together. His right foot restlessly bounced as he hunched over, thinking of how to put this. He knew nothing he would say would really get Chris upset at him. Disappointed, sure. But not outright upset because Chris knew AJ well enough to know that whatever was going on with him was something more than who he was as a person. “I, uh.”
AJ Tyler was struggling with finding the right words. His mind was fading in and out of clarity. He was hyper attentive to his surroundings, to his friend, to the aching feeling in his chest, but his mouth was dry, coming out empty. He was scared. The moment he said what he did would be the moment he admitted that he was a god awful person who had no handle over his emotions. That he allowed himself in a place where he was actively willing to harm Jamie because the idea of not having him was devastating and maybe if he had more control Jamie would want him again. Want him in a way that romantic lovers do, not just fuck buddies.
“I met with Jamie and I…” His leg bobbed profusely. “I let him go. But you know how… we get and I, um, I— The words stumbled out like tumbleweeds, following the direction of his heart but leaping and rolling slowly out of his mouth. This was harder than usual. “—I hurt him, Chris.” He profoundly stated, pausing afterwards to unclasp his hands just to roughly rub his face, from his lower mouth down to his chin. “I just got so into the moment that I hurt him.”
“Alright…” Chris said, sighing out a deep exhale of smoke. He squinted up at the sky, and passively scratched at his chin in deep thought. There were a lot of things to unpack in AJ’s words, but as a friend, there was far more to unpack in his actions. He was sweating, pale as fuck, twitching, losing his words and trains of thought. This was more than just emotions or anxiety, Chris knew his boy, and right now, he was tweaking out.
“We’ll get back to that, but first,” he flicked some ashes into the tray on top of the bucket. “Take your sunglasses off. Look me in the eye, right now.” There was a seriousness in his tone as sharp as barbed wire.
“What? Why?” AJ was quick to protest, even going out of his way to stand right up and put distance between him and his best friend. “I don’t see why my glasses have anything to do with me needing you.” There was a tense feeling in his chest and uneasiness coursing through his veins, like he was being cornered. “I’ve been crying, okay, and I don’t want you to see that shit.”
“It has everything to do with it, actually. For why you need me, specifically, and not one of your Hills’ chums.” Chrysler replied casually, remaining seated and calm throughout AJ’s reaction, to show he wasn’t a threat. Not yet, at least. Not until he knew exactly what he was dealing with. “Cuz ya been doin’ more than cryin’, and I don’t really give a shit about that. And you know that. So fine, stay hidin’ behind your shades, I’m still gonna have ya tell me what you’ve done. Because it sure as shit ain’t weed, and it better not involve a fuckin’ needle.”
Chris’ sharp words stung and like a defeated puppy, AJ took off his sunglasses and hooked them on his shirt. He didn’t look his friend in the eyes though. It was clear he wasn’t proud of his actions from this morning. There was a voice that was telling him that he didn’t need Chris. Who was he to tell him what to do? How would he understand how he felt, like really? Chris had Emeline, sure, but that was hardly the same. Or maybe it was. Who was AJ to judge someone else’s love story?
God, he couldn’t think straight and where there was that voice, there was another voice telling him to breathe, be still, and listen. You came here for a reason. Let it play out before you run away and make things worse. He wanted to listen to both but he could only pick one. For now, he’d pick the quieter one. It wasn’t fair to Chris for him to act like a child when AJ sought him out. He wanted Chris. No one else but him. There was value behind that.
“I just needed a little… courage. But maybe I did a little too much because I got pretty amped.” He dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out the remaining snow he had on his person. “Like father, like son, I guess,” he meekly mumbled. He still needed to tell Chris what he did but that part terrified him. What if Chris didn’t like him anymore? Why did he go to Chris specifically? If he went to Decky at least he’d be rewarded with a black eye. He didn’t know why his impulse led him here but it was too late to go back. He was already here so he just had to be patient, if that was even possible, and let things play out. If Chris hated him after this, then he deserved it.
Chris took another long drag from his cigarette. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a tidal wave of relief at seeing that it was just coke in the baggie AJ fished out of his jacket. A rich people drug… it was addictive, sure, but not nearly as dangerous as smack or some of the other opioids going around the streets these days. “Courage, huh? I told you that shit’s for parties, it ain't for when you’re already feelin’ low.” Chris leaned back into the bench, crossing an ankle over his knee while his thumb drummed out a beat on his thigh.
“Makes shit worse. Alright, so you showed up all coked up to see your ex. And you…. hurt him? How? Like ya’ll came to blows or…?” he somewhat nervously awaited the answer. Chris held no love in his heart for the sandy-haired twink that made a game of ruining his homie’s life, but he certainly didn’t wish him injury, or worse… “And sit back the fuck down, please. Ain’t no safer place to be than with me right now, and you know I hate having to look up to people.” Short king problems.
Okay, fuck.
He’d sit back down.
Now beside Chris once more, AJ rubbed his jeans, trying to once again, amp himself up to say what he did. This was a lot harder than it looked like and it seemed that the coke had backfired; hardcore. “I was trying to prove a point,” he started, carefully treading forward, hesitant to sink before he even got to the point. “That Jamie only wants to fuck me because of how I make him feel. If you took out the heart and the fact that I can’t get him out of my fucking head, he’d hate me in seconds. That…” his voice trailed off momentarily as he felt the friction of his pants.
In a way this feeling was keeping him rooted to the chair. Doing something to keep him preoccupied as he spoke his painful truth was a good thing and it felt nice. His pants felt nice. While it probably looked silly, or concerning, it allowed his friend to see someone incredibly weak and stupid. It allowed AJ to not wear a cool mask and reveal how much of a mess he was and it was all because he put himself in a place to be so incredibly codependent on a boy that didn’t give a damn about him. “...that wouldn’t be a bad thing. If Jamie hated me. Maybe it would make things easy, you know?”
Finally, AJ looked at his friend and admitted, “I slammed him against a wall and treated him like a piece of meat. I wasn’t going to go too far, I promise. I couldn’t, or at least I thought I couldn’t… do something like that. All I did was overpower him and mark his neck… which could be hot, in like any other circumstance. He wasn’t listening to me. He was running away, like he always does and I just fucking grabbed him. Oh god, what if I did more to him? What if I have it in me to rape someone Chris? This is so fucking scary. I’m such a fucking horrible person.” And the tears started rushing out and AJ buried his face in his hands. “Why am I like this? Why do I care so much? I just want this pain to stop, Chris. I hate him so much.”
“You don’t, man. You’re right, it’d be easier if you did, hell, I wish you did hate that little shit, but you still love ‘em.” Chris stabbed out the spent cig in the ashtray and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees now. Folding his fingers together, he made a point to only look forward as he spoke, giving his friend the privacy to grieve the loss of his beau, and the loss of a piece of himself along the way. Some actions can’t be taken back, and there’s consequences you have to live with. That’s life, and it’s messy as fuck.
“That’s why your arrangement was never really going to work out, and it sucks that this is how it ended up. But, what’s done is done. Ya ain’t a horrible person, you just weren’t fully yourself with that snow in your system, and Jamie — he pushes buttons. That’s what he does, kid fucking makes a hobby of airing peoples dirty laundry in a shitty school newspaper, but never once looks at the pile of shit in his own hamper.” Chris stopped himself before he got too heated. He really, really did not like that snake.
“I’ma keep it real, what ya did ain’t great,” It was, by technical definition, sexual assault. Chris scratched the back of his head and raked his fingers through his gelled hair a couple of times before lacing his hands back together. “The way I see it, ya got two options, an’ they both kinda suck, but ya gotta choose one. First, you reach out, probably text him, it’s easier to get your words right and not get…. distracted.” As AJ would no doubt be if it was an in person conversation. “And apologize. Be totally for real, say you weren’t sober and you acted out of pocket and that you feel horrible. Be completely honest. And then, no matter what he says or does, just let it all go. I’m so serious, just, never talk again. Move on and start healing, there are literally so many other people out there.”
As selfishly satisfying as it would be to only provide that one line of advice and have his friend follow it, Chris knew AJ too well to leave it at that. The kid felt too deeply. “The second option starts much like the first. Come clean, honest apology, let all them feelings out. And then, say exactly what you were trying to tell him before he tried to run and you… acted out. Put those words in writing. Lay it out blank. Kid’s a so-called writer, right? So let him read it, then. Tell him how you feel, how he makes you feel, and how you want to feel. And if you can’t come to a mutual agreement, then this plan ends a bit like the first. Let it go, no contact, move on, heal, fuck somebody else. Love somebody else. Ya got a big heart, man, I know you got it in you.”
Both options were hard options. Admitting your flaws and coming clean, when he deliberately filtered his drug use from his ex, wasn’t going to be easy. Getting Jamie to listen, actively, wasn’t going to be easy. Letting go, well, that sounded damn near impossible. He was right, though. Of course Chris was right. He always was. He had a clear conscience and was a perfect third party. Not caught in the drama and heat that was Beverly Hills High.
Both options sounded painful but which one was worse? Cutting him completely off and moving on, or saying his peace, seeing the results, and if it still bears no fruit, cutting him off and moving on? Was it worth the effort to keep trying? It was obvious that no matter what he did, he was beating a dead horse. Being in such close vicinity to Jamie was not doing him any good or anyone for that matter. He just needed to decide and commit. Leave it at that. It wasn’t like he was alone. Not really. He had Rye and while it wasn’t love, it made him less lonely. Rye kept him company and it was nice. Maybe Rye was the answer to AJ moving on and finding someone that was good for him.
“Yeah, okay. I can do that,” AJ replied, his voice a little shaky as he tried to convince himself that this would be okay. He had a good support system and that goes a long way with grief. “... like now?” Pulling out his phone, AJ stared at it, debating if he should sober up a little or should he just speak out everything he just did with Chris, now that he’d calmed down?
“Maybe get donuts in you first,” Eiran came out to join them, making his presence known. The moment was coming to an end and soon Chris would need to get back to work. They had more jobs coming their way and lord knows Eiran didn’t want to stay at the garage all day on a Friday.
The whole garage consisted of Jewish men which meant they might all have a nosy spirit in them, especially his younger brother, Hirsch. Tiny little shit was hiding somewhere. “Seriously, you two go get some before Zo eats it all. Fuckin’ guy eating his nerves away because Junie can pop like any day now.”
Chris startled slightly at the voice of one of his superiors at the shop. He checked his phone quickly to make sure he hadn’t gone over fifteen on his “break”, if you could call it that. Hearing out AJ was more work than any measure of manual labor sometimes. “You got it, boss” he said coolly, standing up from the bench at long last. He looked back to his friend and noticed the baggie of white powder was still sitting on the bucket near the ashtray. Before heading off to fetch a donut, he said one last piece. A friendly zinger to lighten the mood, a return to the normalcy of their somewhat unlikely kinship. “And take your shit with you, please. Some of us need to work for a living, I ain’t havin’ your ass get me fired.”
“And I don’t want to go back to rehab,” Eiran humored the two, hoping his stupidity at least helped with the mood a little. Where was his wife when he needed her? Devorah was far better at this mushy, emotional shit. He held the door open for the two to come in. “Now come on, let's be fat before we have to be responsible.”
As Chris got up, AJ looked at his phone. He could do this, after a donut. Grabbing his packet, he slipped it into his pocket and followed his best friend and his dad’s confidant into the garage.
AJ was quiet again. The only words he had left to say were for Jamie and that was all thanks to his buddy Chris. This was a good visit. He needed it.
