Rules of the Road ©2016 by Geron Kees. All rights reserved.
This story is a work of fiction and depicts sexual activities between minors. All characters and situations are imaginary. No real people were harmed in the creation of this presentation. Please observe the laws of your jurisdiction with reference to reading this material.
If you're not 18, you shouldn't be reading this at all. Go find a boyfriend and talk stuff over with him.
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Address story comments/criticism to: Geron Kees at <geronkees@runbox.com>______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Chapter 6 --
Friday night. Brian and Ed got a six-pack of Molson, smoked a little of
Ed's stash, and hit the road.
They went looking for Colin in all the usual haunts, but he was nowhere
to be seen. They asked people they knew if they had seen the blue
Roadrunner, and got a few different stories. They chased a few false
leads, and by dark hadn't found him.
They decided to cruise over towards Maple Hill, on the chance that he
might be there. They were sitting at a stop light on Route 5, almost to
Maple Hill, when a car pulled up at the light next to them. Brian and Ed
were busy laughing over something they'd heard the DJ talk about on the
radio and weren't paying attention - until they heard the toot-toot
of a horn.
Brian looked over. It was Mahowsky's candy apple red GTO.
There was a guy in the car with the big brawler, and both of them were
looking at Brian and Ed. Mahowsky made a gesture through his windshield.
The way he did it made what he was asking quite clear. Also the way he
was asking it.
Wanna try me, punk?
Brian looked at Ed, and they both grinned.
Brian looked back at the GTO and nodded. He put his left foot on the
brake and shifted his right foot to the gas pedal, tached the car up to
three grand.
The light changed. Mahowsky pulled a nice hole shot - but the Bee
was right with him. And Brian simply walked away from the GTO, pulling
ahead with the utmost of ease, until the red car was a good three car
lengths back. They were on a long, straight stretch of road, and Brian
simply let the car out, hitting third gear when the speedometer said 120
MPH. The Bee went on, the
speedometer hit 130 and continued to climb; and Brian was so scared he
simply took his foot off the gas pedal and grasped the steering wheel
tightly with both hands, afraid to let it turn in either direction, even
an inch. The car felt like it was floating, and that the slightest burst
of air from either side would simply blow it right off the road.
They slowed, and the car was back under a hundred pretty quickly. By the
time they dropped back to sixty and Brian braked, he felt a cold bead of
sweat in the hair atop his head.
The red GTO was nowhere to be seen. Brian found a break in the median
strip and turned the car around, and then he and Ed cruised along at
forty miles per hour.
Finally, Brian looked over at Ed, who seemed a little withdrawn. "Scare
you?"
Ed nodded. "Fuckin' right. I nearly pissed my pants, dude." He looked at
Brian, and a small smile finally appeared. "You just polished Mahowsky's
ass for him."
Brian grinned. "I know."
Ed made a face. "Wanna 'nuther beer?"
"I could use one, yeah."
Onward they went. Still no Colin. But now, Brian had no doubt what would
happen if he finally found the other car.
Roadrunner for lunch, ya all!
About ten o'clock they decided to try Zion, on the chance that Colin
might be there. Challenging the other boy and then running him at the
crowded hot spot would be suitable payback, Brian thought, grinning at
the prospect. Even as a little, spoiling voice inside his head told him
he was sinking to Colin's level if he did this.
They arrived at the intersection just before the race lanes, and found
the area choked with parked cars. Brian managed to find a spot close to
the action, and backed the Bee in between a van and a fairly nice AMC
Javelin. He and Ed got out, beers in hand, and walked about, looking for
Colin.
The Roadrunner was there, parked to one side, along with several other
cars from school. Colin's car was locked, and he was nowhere to
immediately be seen.
"He wouldn't go off and leave his baby here," Ed pointed out. "Must be
hidin' around here some fuckin' place."
Brian grinned. Ed was ready for some payback, too.
Two cars were paired up to run. One was Dave Routh's Nova - the other
car was one Brian didn't recognize, a '69 'Cuda with an awful orange
paint job. It looked like Jim Van Pelt had starter duty; he stood
between the two cars with a flashlight.
Brian stopped and surveyed the faces in the crowd, but didn't see Colin.
He heard the engines of the two cars revving, and Jim stepped over to
the side of the road and raised the flashlight and pointed it between
the pair.
It lit.
Both cars roared, smoke appeared from beneath the rears tires, and they
were off. Brian could hear the engines winding up as the vehicles turned
into a pair of taillights moving away into an infinity of darkness.
Ed tapped his shoulder and pointed, and Brian followed his finger. And
there was Colin, at the edge of the crowd, Marianne Davis standing next
to him. They both had beers in hand, and were watching the receding
taillights with interest.
Brian grinned, and took a step towards Colin - and stopped.
The sound of engines behind him made him turn, and then he was getting
out of the road quickly as several cars pulled up.
One was Mahowsky's red GTO, and another was Tim's green GTX. The third
car was Jeff Breakman's green Camaro.
They drew to a stop, and guys began to pile out of the cars. The crowd
grew suddenly quiet, turning to watch, sensing that something was up.
Jeff stood by the driver's door of his car, looking around. On his feet
he was still small and wiry, looking like a runner, and a good one. He
raised a hand, and waved it. "Anyone seen Brian - the guy that has that
wine-colored Super Bee over there?"
Brian was shocked, but stepped right forward. "Here I am."
Jeff looked at him, squinted, and then he was on his way over. He walked
right up to Brian, got right into his face. "You lied to me, man. You
said your car was stock."
Brian took a step back, shocked at the other boy's intensity, the look
of anger on his face. "No, I didn't. At the time I said that, it was
true. I've changed engines since."
Jeff looked at him, his eyes trying to see inside Brian. Brian was
fascinated - Jeff looked almost hurt, somehow, like he'd been betrayed
by his best friend.
"I told you the truth," Brian stated.
Jeff licked his lips, his eyes still probing. "You smoked Dave a little
while ago. That's my second. I can't have that."
Brian let his eyes move over to Mahowsky, who stood against his car, a
small smile on his face. Brian understood then; Mahowsky had gone
straight to Jeff, told him his title was on the line, that there was
competition over at Proctor that Kennedy just couldn't let go
unaddressed. He had gotten Jeff all wound up like it was personal, and
now the Camaro's driver was here to see what might be done about it.
Brian let his eyes go back to Jeff's. "Your buddy there is an asshole,
Jeff," Brian whispered. "He's playing you off against me."
Jeff watched him a moment longer, and then a small smile appeared on his
lips. "Yeah, he is that." He took a step back, dug in his pocket,
produced a fifty dollar bill, held it up.
"I wanna challenge that Super Bee, here and now." Jeff's voice was loud,
and he looked around at the crowd, which pretty much stared back in
silence.
Ed was beside Brian now, standing close. "What the fuck is going on?"
Brian frowned, spoke out of the side of his mouth. "I think I'm about to
find out if my dad knows his shit or not."
People were looking at Brian now. Jim Van Pelt came over, smiling.
"Fuck," he whispered, "this is gonna be the show of the year, Brian."
Brian licked his lips. "Think I can take him?"
Jim nodded. "If he really ran a twelve-two with just himself in the car,
yeah. You did that with three guys riding."
Brian nodded. He still felt scared - this was big time. This was the Bee
against the meanest car he had ever seen.
Jeff turned back to face him. "What do you say, Brian?"
Brian nodded slowly, took out his wallet, found the fifty he had put
there just for this kind of race. He held it up. "You're on."
Jeff grinned. It was an assured grin, slightly predatory, like the look
of the Camaro itself.
Keep that smile going, Brian thought, irritated at the other's
self-assurance. You're gonna need it.
They agreed to let Jim hold the money. Mahowsky protested that he should
hold it; but everyone agreed that Kennedy had challenged, so Proctor got
to hold the pot. Jeff selected Tim to go to the finish line as his
witness; Brian selected Ed as his. Both got into Tim's car and headed
down to the other end of the road. Another four neutrals were selected
as general witnesses, and they got into a van and went after the green
GTX.
A flood of people wanted to hop into their cars and go to witness the
end of the run; but Jim waved the flashlight and told them flat out not
to do it. "Can't have you people in the way. These cars are going to be
moving when they get down there, and we don't want anyone to get hurt."
There was some grumbling, but Jim had the respect of the crowd, and no
one from Proctor, at least, was going to challenge him.
"Get your car, Brian," Jim said, and clapped him on the shoulder. "Good
luck."
Brian headed over to the Dodge, unlocked the door and got inside. He
started the car, listened to it lope, listened to it rumble. He reached
out and laid his hand on top of the dash, gave it a small rub. "You can
do it."
He decided to unhook the shoulder belt from its clip and attach it to
the lap belt. Best to be well-strapped-in for this one.
He pulled the car out and moved towards the starting line. As
challenger, Jeff got the chicken lane on the left, leaving the right
lane clear for Brian. He pulled up and stopped, looked to Jim, who
motioned him forward. Brian let the car drift forward until Jim held up
his hand. They should be even on the line now.
Jeff revved his car a couple of times, and it sounded like a pro-racer.
Brian grinned, decided not to mimic him. Let him guess what he was going
to hear until the run got rolling.
Brian braked with his left foot, tached the Bee up with his right on the
gas. He let the tach creep all the way to 3,500 RPMs this time, and the
car stood up on her suspension and the brakes groaned like they were
staving off the end of the world.
Jim moved to the side of the road, held up the flashlight. Brian tensed,
unable to concentrate on anything but the end of the black cylinder in
Jim's hand.
It lit.
Brian yanked his foot off the brake even as he walked the accelerator to
the floor. The Camaro reared and fired itself ahead, got a full car
length out front in the wink of an eye. But the Bee leaped after it,
caught it immediately, and they both screamed away into the night, neck
and neck.
Jeff went for second gear and Brian moved ahead in the interval. Brian
tapped the shifter back and the Bee surged forward in second, her tires
spinning briefly, and the Camaro was right alongside again. For a couple
of seconds it looked like they were one car, moving down the road,
joined somehow and unable to part.
Then the Bee began to draw ahead. It was just a few feet at first, but
then the lead increased, a slow, unstoppable parting of the ways. Jeff
went for third gear and lost a couple of more feet even as Brian
realized he would not have to shift again before the race was done.
Ahead, he could see the green GTX drawn off to the side of the road, and
the small knots of people standing well off on the shoulder to each side
of the finish line. Brian was a full car length ahead of the Camaro now,
and still drawing apart. Brian felt frozen, his eyes darting between the
tach and the road ahead.
The Camaro's headlights were visible in Brian's side mirror, more than a
car length back. They crossed the yellow line then, and out of the side
of his eye Brian saw Ed raise a hand and jump into the air - and then he
was past them.
It seemed to take forever for the two cars to slow down. The Camaro
braked first, slowed, stopped by the side of the road. Brian braked
until he could swing the car around, and headed back to the finish line.
Jeff was already there, standing next to his car. Brian stopped, left
the Bee idling, and got out.
Ed ran over, his face covered in the most shit-eating grin Brian had
ever seen on a living human being. He pounded Brian on the back, and
Brian held up a hand to ward him off. "Take it easy!"
Jeff watched him come over, his face set like stone. Brian stopped in
front of the other boy, nodded. "Hell of a race, man. It was close."
"You won," Jeff said stiffly, like he still couldn't believe it.
Tim, the GTX guy - and Jeff's witness - came over and tried to hide his
grin. But his eyes said it all: great day to be a Mopar driver!
"Anybody want to contest the outcome?" he asked.
Jeff shook his head, a curt side-to-side jerk. "No. This guy won."
Brian looked at the other boy. There were things in Jeff's eyes that
were accusing, and there were things there that seemed hurt. Brian
didn't want to leave it that way - he was just starting to see that this
race had meant a lot more to Jeff than it had to him. Jeff had lost
something here, and not just the race.
Brian stuck out his hand. "It was an honor," he said.
Jeff looked down at Brian's hand, then up to his eyes. "Was it?"
Brian nodded. "Yeah. It was. I was more scared of your car than any
other car I've ever seen."
Jeff nodded. "But not now. You're not scared of it now."
It was a sad but true fact. "No." He licked his lips. "But I still
respect the hell out of it."
Jeff nodded again, reached out, slid the palm of his hand against
Brian's. "See you back at the start."
Brian watched as Jeff climbed into his car, started it, drove off like a
little old lady at the wheel of some clunker.
"What the fuck was that about?" Ed asked.
Tim looked at him. "That car means a lot to that guy. I guess it was a
hard loss for him. It was his first one ever."
Brian looked after the Camaro's receding taillights, somehow not feeling
the victory now, not like he should.
"Top dog," Ed said, grabbing Brian's shoulder. "Let's go get your
money."
Ed got in the Bee with Brian. Tim mounted his GTX, and he and the van
turned themselves around. Brian headed back to the starting line, his
head a cauldron of bubbling emotions.
That Jeff had been hurt somehow by the loss was obvious. Hurt more than
just losing, that is. He acted like Brian had somehow betrayed something
- and Brian couldn't for the life of him figure out what. There was
nothing between him and Jeff - nothing at all. They had met and spoken
one time. Yet, somehow, there seemed to be more there for Jeff.
Whatever had just happened, the look in Jeff's eyes - the hurt - was
something that Brian could feel. It made him sad, somehow, and he didn't
know the why of that, either.
They got back to the starting line. Jeff's Camaro was pulled off to the
side, and Jeff was standing outside the door. Mahowsky was standing
nearby, gesticulating wildly. Jeff appeared to be examining the ground
while the bigger boy raved.
"That don't look good," Ed said.
Brian stopped the Bee on the other side of the road and he and Ed got
out.
Jim came over, smiling. "Fucking awesome, Brian. I had a feeling you'd
win."
The could hear Mahowsky yelling now. Jim waved a hand, trying to get
Jeff's attention. He looked up and saw them, and then looked at
Mahowsky. "Shut the fuck up , Dave."
Jeff walked away, leaving Mahowsky looking stunned. He approached them,
his eyes on Brian, came up, stopped.
"I'm giving up the pot," Jim said. He reached into his pocket, took out
the two fifties, handed them to Brian.
Jeff leaned forward, looked into Brian's face. "What the fuck you got in
that car, huh?"
"It's a 383."
"I don't fuckin' believe it. Show me."
Brian nodded, went over to the Dodge, raised the hood. Other people came
to look, including Mahowsky. They all peered at the engine in the Bee
like it was a mystical charm of some kind.
Jeff shook his head. "Not a hemi. A fuckin' wedge." He looked over at
Mahowsky. "You see that?"
Mahowsky laughed. "You got beat by a station wagon motor, motherfucker."
Brian smiled. Well, it was hardly that, although Dodge had been putting
the dependable engine - in much milder form - in family cars for years.
Jeff looked at Brian, shaking his head. "Something isn't right."
Brian held up the money. "You want to go again?" He was getting a little
irritated at all this weirdness.
Jeff's face bunched into a knot. Brian saw the swing coming, saw the
look in Jeff's eyes and the tic of his shoulder that telegraphed the
shot. Brian brought his left up and took a step back as Jeff swung, and
the blow glanced down along Brian's forearm. Brian stuffed the money
back in his pocket, seeing another shot coming, and backed up quickly,
avoiding it.
The crowd around them suddenly backed up, too, giving them room. Jeff
stepped into Brian, swinging, even as Tim pushed his way to the front of
the crowd, yelling at Jeff to stop.
Jeff heard none of it. His eyes were on Brian's face, on Brian's eyes,
and he kept right on stepping forward and swinging, even as Brian danced
back, blocking. Brian moved in a small circle while Jeff chased him,
trying to connect. Brian was hyped now, feeling the jazz he felt when he
was boxing, his reflexes sharp and his eyes not missing a thing.
Jeff chased him around, growing angrier and more confused as each blow
missed its mark. "Stand fucking still!" he bellowed at last, causing
Brian to smile.
"Right," was all he could say. It was a matter of keeping moving,
keeping blocking and evading. Jeff simply wasn't fast enough to make a
connect. Brian saw that now, and relaxed into his defensive posture.
He could have ended it quickly, could have put Jeff right on the ground
with a couple of swift moves. But the more he watched the other boy, the
more he saw the frustration and helpless anger in his eyes, the more
sympathy he felt.
And the more of something else. Brian smiled. Jeff was agonizingly
appealing in his anger somehow, and what Brian felt the urge to do was
grab him and hold him, to tell him it was okay - to comfort him. That
this was about the craziest reaction he could have was also apparent to
him, and he just didn't know how to deal with it other than the way he
was doing. Certainly, he didn't want to hurt the guy. That would only
make things much worse.
Jeff saw the smile, misinterpreted it as a gloat. He surged forward,
starting to swing wildly now. Brian continued to block, continued to
evade.
They kept moving in a circle, while the crowd milled around them, most
watching in silence, a few calling support to Brian. Kennedy was
ill-represented here, and the lack of audible support for Jeff only made
Brian's heart even softer towards the other boy. Jeff was alone, and
that fact somehow pained Brian right down to his core.
He was coming back around towards the Bee, dancing and bobbing and
weaving , managing to stay one move ahead of Jeff's rampage. As he came
around the edge of the crowd he felt something against the back of his
leg as he backed, knew somehow instantaneously what it was.
Someone was trying to trip him up. Brian's reflexes, in attack mode now,
took over. He leapt upward and backward, over the extended leg, and as
he did so he twisted in mid air and fired his right fist into whoever it
was standing there. It connected with a meaty thwap! that brought
silence to the crowd.
Brian came down without even seeing who he had hit. Jeff roared, charged
at him. Brian feinted left, stepped right, and grabbed Jeff as he came
by, swinging the other boy around and putting him into a headlock. Brian
used the power of his chest and back muscles to bear down with his
weight on Jeff, and the other boy went mostly quiescent, offering only a
minimum of resistance as Brian held him.
Brian leaned close, whispered into Jeff's ear: "Give it up, man. I don't
want to hurt you."
"You already did!" Jeff grated, squirming anew.
"Then I'm sorry," Brian hissed. "Please stop. Jeff...please."
Jeff suddenly relaxed - so suddenly that Brian took a step to one side
before he could get his balance.
They stood there in silence, both breathing a little harder from their
exertions.
"Let me go," Jeff said quietly. "I'm done."
Brian somehow felt the truth of it. He let go of the other boy and
stepped quickly away, just in case he was wrong.
"Hey, dumbfuck!" someone else bellowed. Brian turned to see Mahowsky
staggering towards him. The brawler's face was almost as red as his car,
and blood streamed from his nose. "You fuckin' think you're gettin' away
with that?"
Brian stared, realizing now who he had hit. He crouched, put up his
hands, stepped back away from the approaching teen.
And then Ed was at his side, his fists raised, and Jim Van Pelt was on
the other side, pointing. "You better know what you're fuckin' starting,
Mahowsky. That was a real bitch move, trying to trip Brian up."
Others stepped up beside Ed. Dave Routh was there, and Mike Zurka, and
Wade Tomlinson, all at the ready. Brian glanced the other way, at Van
Pelt, who had his fists up now - and there, on the other side of Jim,
was Colin, looking petrified - but his fists were knotted up just like
everyone else's.
Mahowsky stopped, looking confused by all the sudden opposition.
Across from them, at the fore of the crowd, were Bert and Ernie, who
both started to yell, "Go home, Kennedy!"
"Knock it off, Dave." Jeff pointed at the other Kennedy boy. "I fuckin'
mean it."
Mahowsky made a face, dabbed at the blood from his nose. He gave Brian a
last, malevolent look, then turned and headed back towards his car.
Nobody moved.
Jeff came up, looked after Mahowsky. Several other Kennedy guys had
emerged from the crowd and joined the brawler as he retreated. None had
stepped up to stand next to him to face the Proctor guys, though, which
everyone had to have noticed.
"Asshole," Jeff breathed, staring after them.
Brian looked at him. There was something different about Jeff now. Gone,
somehow, was the predatory aura, the sheen of power. He seemed now
simply a slightly built guy, wiry, kind of cute, kind of lonely.
Something about him was newly familiar, too. Brian frowned, trying to
see it - but couldn't.
Still there, though, was the need. Jeff was alone, still, and Brian
wanted somehow to comfort that. To just put his arms around the other
guy and -
Shit. Listen to yourself, Brian.
And then Brian knew what was newly familiar about Jeff. The other boy
was carrying, and what he was carrying was the It. That was the only
name that Brian had for it. The It. The It was a certain something: a
many-colored shadow, a wisp of certain feeling, a soft and quiet sense;
and some other things that didn't have any names or faces or dictionary
descriptions, but appeared in unique and elegant form nonetheless.
It was a thing inside, the It. It was a heart thing, maybe a soul thing,
too. It was there to be seen by those who looked and no one else; and,
somehow, Brian had looked at just the right moment in space and time.
Jeff had the It, and Brian had seen it.
The last time Brian had seen the It was when he was fourteen, when a new
boy had been moving in two houses down. A boy with a father in the
military, a mom who liked to shop, a minibike in the garage, and six
months of his life to share.
Chris had had the It. And he had shared it with Brian, and he had shared
it deeply.
Jeff was looking at Brian now, looking at him oddly. They stared at each
other, and their eyes touched, and their eyes talked.
Jeff looked somehow shocked, and took a step back. "I gotta be going."
He frowned. "I acted like such a jerk, man. I'm...sorry."
Brian found he could only nod.
Jeff backed away slowly, his eyes still on Brian's. Finally, more than a
dozen feet away, he turned and just walked away, back to his car.
"Man. That dude is creepy." That was Ed, standing beside him. "See the
way he kept looking at you?"
Brian nodded. "Yeah. I saw it."
He watched as Jeff got to his car, got inside, started it, and drove
off. No tires spinning, no pedal-to-the-metal.
Nothing.
Someone touched Brian's shoulder. He started, turned, and saw Tim
standing beside him.
"Thanks, man."
Brian blinked. "For?"
Tim smiled. "For not hurting Jeff. You could have done it. He had no
idea who he was fucking with."
Brian shook his head, looked down the road where Jeff's car had
disappeared. "I didn't want to hurt him, man. He was already hurt."
Tim nodded. "Yeah. Losing's a new thing for him."
That wasn't totally what Brian had meant, but he nodded anyway. "Strange
dude."
Tim nodded. "His old man is powerful as shit. There's a lot of stories
about him trashing people that fucked with him or his family. And he
donates a lot of money to the school for stuff, and the staff acts like
Jeff walks on water. That makes everybody else a little careful around
Jeff, too. " He laughed. "Even Mahowsky is scared of him."
Brian looked at him. "He didn't seem that way to me - you know, stuck up
or anything."
"He's not." Tim frowned. "Jeff is quiet, but he's an all right dude. He
never cashes on his old man's money, or his strong arm, or anything.
Except for the car, maybe. But even that, I heard Jeff cut grass for
like three years to buy it and build it up. That car's his baby."
Brian blinked, then smiled. Cut grass? That sounded familiar.
In his mind, Brian could see Jeff's face. He'd always thought the guy
was nice-looking, but now he saw other things, not the least of which
was that Jeff was cute. It wasn't just his looks - it was something
inside.
And, he was carrying the it. That Jeff might be gay was something Brian
had to seriously consider. How he even suspected this now was a mystery.
Gay had no colors, no signs that hung out to be seen. Unless you were a
flamer, there were no signs at all. Just the it, if you were observant
enough, under the right conditions, to spy it.
What was more, he suspected now that Jeff had seen the it in Brian.
There had been some eye-talk going on in the midst of all that turmoil,
and what they had said to each other by sight had been important.
Brian just didn't know what those silent words had meant. Not yet.
Tim clapped him on the shoulder, smiled. "You're a good dude, Brian. I
hope you won't go too hard on Jeff. He's really a good guy. I think you
just busted up his world a little, is all."
Brian nodded. "No hard feelings here. You tell him that, if you see him,
huh?"
Tim nodded. "I will." He looked around. "I'd better go. I hang here too
long and Mahowsky will think I switched sides."
Brian laughed. "Can't have that."
Tim backed up a few steps, grinned. "Hell, no. And I can't have people
think I go to a pussy school like Proctor, either."
Brian laughed, and Tim headed off.
"I like that dude," Ed said, watching the other boy go. "He's got some
class. For a Kennedy guy, anyway."
Brian suddenly noticed Colin standing behind Ed, talking to Marianne. He
grinned at Ed, stepped around him, clapped Colin on the shoulder. "Hey,
buddy. Thanks for the support."
Colin looked pleased. "Yeah. I couldn't let that guy rub you out, man.
He's got muscles on his muscles."
Brian nodded. "It was cool seeing you there with your hands up, man. I
was a little surprised."
Colin actually looked embarrassed. "Why? We're buddies, right? I can't
let some knucklehead like that pound on you."
Brian leaned back, looked down at Colin's crotch. The other boy looked
startled, glancing down. "What?"
Brian grinned. "Just making sure you didn't piss yourself. You looked a
little worried when Mahowsky was coming at us."
Colin puffed up like an agitated bird; but then, just as suddenly, he
relaxed. "I was scared shitless, man."
"But you were there anyway. That's what counts."
Colin looked pleased. "You'd do the same for me."
Brian nodded. "Yup. I would."
Marianne leaned over and hung on Colin's arm as though he had just
chased off a pride of hungry lions with a toothbrush. Her eyes just
glowed at the guy, and all Brian could do was shake his head a little.
Marianne was never going to change.
Colin, either.
Brian grinned. "You still want to go cruising together some night?"
Colin looked agitated all over again. "Well -"
"I won't show you up," Brian said quietly. "Promise."
Colin nodded. He didn't look thrilled, but he did look accepting. "Okay.
Let me know when."
Brian nodded. Colin rubbed at his nose, looked like he didn't know what
to say next.
Brian helped him out. "Well, I'd better get back to shit. Stay outta
trouble, huh?"
Colin grinned. "You, too."
He watched as the other two headed off.
Ed sighed. "You soft-hearted motherfucker. Ya punked out with Colin
again."
Brian grinned at him. "What? He stood up with me, man. You didn't think
that was cool as shit?"
Ed made a face, but nodded. "Yeah. I'm amazed." He looked after the
departing couple. "I just wonder what it's gonna cost you down the
line."
Jim Van Pelt was standing by the Bee, talking to the Chevy guys, Dave,
Wade, and Mike. They all turned to look as Brian and Ed approached.
"Man of the evening," Wade said, grinning. "Amazing what headers and a
new shifter will do, huh?"
Brian felt his cheeks burn a little. "Sorry I didn't tell you guys. I
didn't want Colin to know before I got a chance at a rematch."
"We saw you talking to him," Mike said, grinning. "He say he'd run you?"
"I didn't ask him. Didn't have the heart to, after the way he stood up
with us when Mahowsky was on the rampage."
"Yeah, how about that?" Jim Van Pelt shook his head. "I couldn't believe
it myself when I saw him next to me like that. You never know, huh?"
Brian had known Colin a long time. Colin had issues, and he was often
undependable. But he hadn't been tonight. And that, really, was all that
mattered to Brian.
He nodded. "I know I can beat his car. That's enough for me."
Dave Routh smiled. "You know we didn't believe you when you said you'd
just put headers and a few new things on, right?"
Brian was surprised. "Huh? Why not?"
Dave exchanged grins with Jim Van Pelt. "Come on, Brian. We've been
around cars for a little, right? Your Bee loped like a bitch at idle
when you showed up that first day. I figured you had a new cam, but not
a whole new engine. I knew some work had been done to the car, though,
because the damn thing reeked of Permatex. Can't miss that smell."
Brian nodded. True, that. The gasket sealer had a very unique odor. He
had gotten so he didn't even notice it - but the others had.
"So if you guys knew, why didn't you say something?"
Mike poked him playfully. "We figured you had a reason. We wanted to see
what it was."
Brian grimaced. "Aw, that makes me feel stupid, man."
Jim laughed. "Why? It was all cool. And it wasn't the first time one of
us concealed an edge until we got to use it."
The conversation went on for awhile, someone handed Brian a cold beer,
and it seemed everyone that walked by him patted him on the shoulder.
He thanked Dave and Wade and Mike -- and Jim -- for standing with him at
the crunch. They all laughed, patted him down or pushed him a little,
and Brian understood it was all part of being a member of the crowd. The
car crowd.
Finally, it was late, and people were leaving. He got the thumbs up
again from the car crowd, and everyone headed back to their rides to
start moving on.
Brian and Ed climbed into the Bee, headed home.
"Thanks for being there," Brian told Ed. "Meant a lot to see you stand
up with me."
Ed gave him a gentle push. "You're my best bud, dude." He laughed.
"Besides, if I let that whacko go nuts he mighta hurt you, and then I'd
have to find another ride home."
Brian grinned, and nodded. The Bee rolled on.
Ed talked a mile-a-minute, about the race, Jeff, Jeff's car, Mahowsky,
the suspect nature of Kennedy manhood in general.
Brian half-listened, smiling or laughing in all the right places; but
his mind was not really on what his friend was saying. All he could
think about was Jeff. That something had been exchanged between himself
and the other boy was definite. Exactly what it had been, and where it
might lead, was another.
Brian wanted to know more about Jeff now, but couldn't see a way to do
it without showing his hand.
Uh, yeah, no homo intended, but what can you tell me about the cute
guy that drives that Camaro?
The next steps - if there were to be any at all - would need to be
careful ones. Brian could see a few possible next moves, but to get to
them would require that all-important first step.
And Brian had no idea how to take it.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
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Address story comments/criticism to: Geron Kees at <geronkees@runbox.com>