Boy Issues - Morticia Knight Page 0,60
minute.” Carl gave a nervous laugh. “You know me, I can get a little hot under the collar. Just give me some time and…and…I’ll give you a few hundred extra bucks here and there until I make it up to you.” His gaze wandered the room as if he might be able to discover the answers in the air. “I’ll give you twice the commission on the next car.”
“Thanks, but I’m good.” Silver slung his backpack over his shoulder. “I gotta run.”
“But…but…”
Carl trailed after Silver and out the side door—which was exactly what he’d wanted the shithead to do. As soon as Carl had cleared the threshold, Silver locked the door.
“Like I said, Carl. Two weeks. I’ll do what I can on the Morgan, then you’re on your own.” Silver paused before getting into the Mustang. “But I expect to get paid for my time, since its clear I won’t be getting any more commissions.”
Carl stood with his mouth agape, and Silver got behind the wheel without waiting for a response.
He had a boy to get to.
* * * *
If Donovan were a different person living a different life, he’d be holding Silver’s hand as they wandered down the aisles at the auto show. Instead, he’d made do with longing glances and flirty smiles. When the hell had he been bitten by the sap bug? Donovan had to laugh to himself. Who cared? He hadn’t felt this alive since he could remember.
“Would you like to grab something to eat?”
Donovan bumped elbows with Silver. He fucking hated how nervous it made him whenever they touched, no matter how innocent the contact.
“Huh?” Silver had seemed far away.
Donovan pinched his eyebrows together. “Hey, is everything all right?”
A group of oblivious attendees brushed past them in the crowd, and Donovan stumbled a bit. Silver steadied him.
“Let’s get out of this crowd as much as we can, mijo. I can’t hear myself think, let alone do any talking.”
Donovan nodded. “Yes, good plan.”
Silver glanced around the convention space. “Is there somewhere outside we can eat? I haven’t been to this show in a while.”
Donovan craned his neck. “Back there, I think.” He chuckled. “I’ve only been a few times, and it was years ago. Bunny, from Willow Springs? Every once in a while he’d talk me into it.” Donovan winced. “I hope he’s still not mad at me.”
“You bought him a brand new Viper with all kinds of extras, right?”
Donovan shrugged. “Yeah, but you know how it is. That emotional attachment you can get with a car.”
They kept shouldering their way through the crowd as they spoke.
“I know, but he’s your friend and you did right by him. I’m sure his main concern was that you weren’t hurt any more than you were.” Silver smacked Donovan’s arm. “Which is never happening again, right?”
Donovan rolled his eyes so that Silver couldn’t see. He’d almost jokingly said, ‘Yes, Daddy’, but that would’ve only gotten him hot, so wrong result.
“I promised I’d be careful and not have macho stand-offs with…” Donovan frowned. “What was the term?”
“Pinche culero. Motherfucker, baby. No racing with motherfuckers.”
Donovan grinned. “Excellent advice.”
They finally made their way out of the far side of the building and discovered the food court. Even though the area was still packed, it wasn’t at the sardine-level the way it had been inside.
Donovan bemoaned the fact once again that he couldn’t at least loop his arm through Silver’s, or if nothing else, lean against his frame. He supposed he was being a bit needy. After all, until recently, he’d had nothing. No one who would even be worth him putting his arm around or holding hands with in public.
“What are you in the mood for?”
Silver smiled up at him, as if trying to make Donovan forget that something was troubling him. But Donovan could tell. Something must have happened before he’d picked Donovan up.
Donovan smiled back. Once they’d gotten something on their stomachs, he’d broach the subject. Even though Silver had taken on the role of Donovan’s caretaker in many ways, that didn’t mean Donovan couldn’t be there for Silver too. A part of him worried that maybe Silver didn’t have enough confidence in him as an advisor. Donovan hated to admit it was true, but he wouldn’t blame Silver if he didn’t.
Once they’d opted for roasted corn on a stick and a couple of burgers, they found a spot at the end of a reasonably clean picnic table. The other side was occupied with an older couple who were thankfully