Boosting - Chapter 14

During the rest of the journey into the town, Joe couldn't shake the discomfort that something might happen again to his brother on that motorcycle, that he might succumb to another accident. So rather than pass in front of Frank's motorcycle, he trailed behind to keep his eye on things – not that there'd be a hell of a lot he could do if Frank had decided to take another tumble!

Joe now hated that his brother was in dangerous command of a bike that he himself had bought, felt he'd made an error in judgement even though there was no way he could have foretold what would happen. By the time they arrived and were pulling their bikes into the multi-story parking garage, he was feeling decidedly edgy.

As soon as his machine was stationary, Joe turned to find Frank down on his haunches, inspecting his bike again, concentrating all his attention on a particular area of the engine.

"Problem?" Joe asked, joining him.

"Something's been rattling since I came off. I think it's this," Frank said, pointing towards a component.

Joe bent closer and put his hand to it to find it was loose.

Frank continued: "It's fixable though, so if we can find a hardware store, I'll get the parts to make a temporary repair and I can put it in the shop after we get home."

"Will it be okay with a make-do fix? We can always put it in the shop here and come back for it tomorrow, stay in a hotel." Joe mentally crossed his fingers hoping that Frank would agree. It wasn't to be.

"It'll be fine with a temporary fix." Frank sounded confident. "It'll only become a big problem if it comes away completely and works its way into the engine. I don't think it's that badly damaged though."

Joe nodded his understanding and stood. "I need a coffee," he ventured.

"Me too."

Joe heaved a sigh of relief and led Frank away from the bikes and out of the parking lot. He was glad Frank had at least agreed to a shot of caffeine without question, he didn't want to have to get heavy on his brother's ass, but his hand would have been forced if he hadn't agreed. Joe wondered if Frank had secretly come to the same conclusion as to why he'd come off his bike. If he had, he certainly wasn't sharing those thoughts, preferring instead to discuss anything other than the accident as they headed for the café that was across the street.

It was evident that Frank must have jarred his leg after all when he'd come off the bike. Maybe it was simply that he hadn't noticed at first during all the confusion and adrenalin of the accident, but he was definitely limping heavily now, although he obviously didn't feel it was painful enough to warrant the humiliation of bringing his stick into play. Joe was tempted to point out the foolishness of Frank's actions, but had to admit to himself that if he were in the same boat, he'd never use a walking stick either.

They pushed their way inside the eatery and Frank veered away to find a table, leaving Joe to go up to the counter and join the line. After, he returned to Frank to find he'd bagged them a corner table and was inspecting his fingernails, or so Joe thought until he was standing in front of him and laying down the coffees. He was asleep, out like the proverbial light – though thankfully not snoring!

"Uh—" Joe said, not really knowing what to do and glancing around self-consciously, seeing if anyone else was looking. Initially he put his arm out to shake his brother, but then he reassessed, choosing instead to sit down and position his body so the other patrons couldn't observe easily. A power nap wasn't such a bad idea in retrospect. He reached for the sugar and waited.

Ten minutes later, Frank suddenly jerked awake and looked about himself, dazed.

"Yo," Joe said by way of a greeting and pushed Frank's coffee towards him. "Should still be hot enough to drink."

"What?" Frank asked, and blinked down at the cup.

"Dude, your coffee…it's still hot…drink."

"Oh, yeah. Thanks bro." Frank muttered and took a sip.

"Sooo—" Joe regarded his brother over his cup as Frank took another drink. "—How much sleep are you getting each night…or not?"

"Can't say I've been timing myself. Enough." Frank looked out of the window to watch a young mother pushing a child having a tantrum in a stroller.

"Yeah, cause if you were getting 'enough', you'd still be falling asleep in a coffee shop…Frank…Frank?" Joe audibly sighed. "Brilliant," he muttered, frustrated. Joe had observed his brother's face switching off again as he focused entirely on the outside world and not on him or their conversation.

Frank's constant self-distraction techniques were starting to play on Joe's nerves. It was like Frank'd chosen going into partial trances as an alternative to comatosing out completely like he'd done before. Joe supposed it was easier for him to recede into a stupor than deal with his problems head on.

Deciding to get confrontational with him, Joe leaned across the table and rapped Frank hard on the collarbone with his knuckles, shocking him back to attention. He jumped so hard that some of the coffee slopped over the side of the cup and ran down his arm.

"Ouch! Bro, what was that for? That was so not funny!" Frank snapped, grabbing a napkin to dry his hand and then rubbing the area Joe had struck.

"Wasn't supposed to be funny. I had to get you to look at me somehow. Couldn't you hear me tryin' to talk to you? Try zoning in for a little while, huh?"

Frank held his hands wide and raised his eyebrows questioningly. "What can possibly be so important that it's worth scalding your nearest and dearest?"

"Dude! You're twenty-three years old. You fell asleep in a coffee house…what's wrong with this picture? Usually it's the elderly, drunks, or bums that conk out in public places, what's up with you?"

"Okay Joe, so I've not been sleeping well, but what's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that you nearly just got killed out on the highway. At best, your concentration is shot, at worse; you fell asleep in the saddle! What's to say you won't do that again?"

Frank shook his head. "Joe, I didn't fall sleep on the road—"

"—So it's a lack of concentration?"

And then Frank infuriated him further by shaking his head. "No."

Laying his palms down on the table, Joe thrust his face forward. "Well, c'mon then, Bro, shoot me an alternative explanation, cause you got me beat!" He was aware that people were starting to turn in their direction.

So evidently was Frank, because he suddenly leaned forward too and hissed quietly and with no small amount of desperation. "This is neither the time nor the place, Joe, so can we drop it until we get back to the cabin or somewhere more private? I can't talk openly here."

Joe's eyes flashed and he momentarily moved to make a further loud retort, but Frank's panicked expression stopped him, so he took a deep, calming breath instead. "Okay, you win…again!"

"Childish, Joseph!" Joe chastised himself.

"Joe, it's not a case of winning, it's—" There came a ringing sound from his inside pocket. "—Sorry, got a call." Frank said and reached for his phone. "Probably Nancy." He glanced at the screen.

"Don't answer it, Frank." Joe begged, leaning across to grab onto his wrist.

Frank paused. "Uh, it's not Nancy. I gotta take this. Sorry bro." He rotated his arm to break his brother's hold.

Joe clenched his hands into uptight fists and slid them off the tabletop to push them into his lap. He didn't want to get too combative with his brother, that wasn't the fair thing to do and it made him feel bad, like he was swatting at a fly.

Frank left the table and stepped away a distance, turning his back, far enough that Joe could neither hear nor lip-read him. At one point Frank stood up straight and made a surprised noise before glancing over his shoulder at Joe and running his fingers through his hair. Eventually, he nodded emphatically and cut off the call. He stayed there looking at the phone for another few seconds before he shook himself and limped back to the table, the one side of his face lifted into a half smile.

"What are you looking suddenly so pleased about?" Joe asked, genuinely taken aback by his brother's emotional flip-flapping.

"I got offered a job with Digitech – subject to references of course."

Joe was aghast.

Frank continued, although his part-grin dropped. "Not for the job I was interviewed for, another one, a supervisory position. You okay, Joe?"

Joe didn't know how he should be reacting, an internal conflict begging for attention. He didn't want to say something that would upset his brother or make him angry because that would, in Frank's eyes, only serve to justify his decision to leave the agency even more. But this was devastating news and Joe had to fight his natural tendencies, and fight himself hard. He started feeling something hot and poisonous writhing and slithering up from within his belly, he could actually feel and hear the blood rushing around his brain. He knew that if he didn't get out of the café right at that instant, he was liable to deck his own brother. So instead he stood calmly up, pushed the chair under the table, and started to walk away to extricate himself from the situation.

He was a few long strides outside when his brother caught up, a telling hand on his elbow pulling him up short. Joe spun and shoved Frank warningly away. "Don't!"

Frank, stumbled back, but didn't retaliate, just collected himself, gave a surprised look and raised palms into the air. "Joe, listen first and then you can storm off, you didn't let me finish! I didn't accept the job, not yet anyway, I told them I was considering several options and would get back to them."

"Why'd you tell 'em that?"

"Because I'm not so thick skinned as to not realise what I'm givin' up, bro, that's why. I'm not jumping into anything until I'm one-hundred percent sure I'm doing the right thing."

"Then why even consider it?"

"I need to make sure that I'm doing the best thing for me. As much as you're high up on my list of priorities, this time, I have to put myself in the number one spot. Look at me, Joe, I don't want to be like this forever, and if doing a mundane nine-to-five job is the only way to get myself well again, I'll do that."

And then a light switched on, flooding the shadowed corners of Joe's mind with comprehension. The line between 'Frank-the-brother' and 'Frank-the-partner' had become so blurred over the years that he'd forgotten, first and foremost, that the stressed looking young man standing in front of him was blood-kin, and his health took precedence. So what if Frank wasn't going to be working with him? Surely that was better than the alternative of him falling from the path entirely? Joe wasn't being fair, he was as good as forcing his brother along the wrong path by emotionally blackmailing him, levering him by some ridiculous notion of duty and obligation into continuing along a road strewn with broken glass, and he was making him tread it in bare feet.

Joe considered that maybe it wasn't Frank that needed to 'pull his head in' it was himself. He hadn't been thinking about Frank's wants or needs – well, that wasn't entirely true, he was with regard to everything else – but with the job situation, Joe had only been thinking about himself, and that was selfish.

So Joe took a deep breath, did his mental counting from ten to one, and, although he couldn't believe what he was about to say, said: "Frank, take the job—"

"Huh?"

Screwing his face up, Joe said, "you heard right. Take the job. If it's what has to happen, do it." Frank's mouth dropped open in amazement as Joe hung an arm about his shoulders. "Do it." Joe shook his head, pissed – the whole purpose of taking Frank away to the cabin blown in one short statement, at least as far as the job was concerned. Frank = one point, Joe = zero. His disappointment was palpable.

This whole trip had indeed turned into one huge therapy session, but not for Frank, as was naively planned, but for himself!

*****

Nancy and Con made an odd coupling as they entered the used car dealership. Nancy suspected that to a casual observer, they might be mistaken for father and daughter – she hoped not though.

As they entered, Nancy immediately eyeballed the car that she'd come to see, it had pride of place actually inside the glassed building, rather than on the showroom floor, rotating slowly on a podium. The roof was down and it was sparkling, presented at its best.

A man behind a desk raised himself immediately and came around to approach them. "Martin Jackson," he said by way of introduction and stuck his hand out at Con who automatically took it. He ignored Nancy totally.

Nancy rolled her eyes. This was the type of misogynistic behaviour that really got her goat – the way some car salesmen don't talk to a woman because a man is accompanying her, preferring to assume that the man is holding the purse strings and the know-how. This guy was obviously no exception and Nancy was taking no prisoners. "Hi!" She pushed her hand forcefully forward, nudging Con aside. "I'm Lucy, we have an appointment?"

"Ah yes," said the man, at last acknowledging her, but not before raising a knowing, amused look in Con's direction.

Nancy looked at Con out the corner of her eye and he must have read her expression as saying 'butt out', as, to his credit, he turned and started looking at some of the other cars, leaving her to it – but stayed close enough so he could overhear what was being said.

"Is this the Corvette convertible you were telling me about on the phone yesterday?" she asked, pointing to it.

"It is indeed, beauty isn't she?"

"I'll be the judge of that," Nancy said and approached, stepping up on to the platform. "Could you turn this off?" she asked Martin. "I get seasick, and I doubt you'd want me barfing into the car."

He laughed and shot Con another look, but did head away giving Nancy the opportunity she needed to give the car a quick once over while he wasn't hovering.

Con moved towards the driver's side as she opened the passenger door to take a look at the side of the seat. Sure enough, there was a small paint smudge worn into the leather about half way down. "Well done, Joseph!" She glanced at the carpet, noting that it was a proper inky black color. Finally, she slipped her hand under the seat to confirm there was a multi-change CD unit beneath.

The podium suddenly stopped moving as Con was clicking open the driver's door. "What do you reckon?" he asked in a low voice, slipping in behind the wheel and inspecting the edge of the door.

"It's Frank's car, I'm convinced of it."

"So am I. Come and have a look at this."

Nancy stood again and could see, through the glass, Martin starting to return from the back office, so she quickly climbed on the passenger seat on her knees and leaned into Con with her arm across the back of his headrest. "What'cha got?"

"Look," Con said, and indicated to the door hinge. Where it joined the car's body, there was a sliver of red paint that hadn't received the same attention as the rest of the car when it had gotten its racing green re-spray.

"Yep, this is Frank's car all right, even though they've changed the plates." Nancy agreed with an eyebrow lift. She looked over her shoulder to see that Martin was zeroing in on them again, a sleazy grin on his face. Nancy ghosted a smile back and said as an aside to Con, "What a freakin' skank. This guy is going to regret having messed with us—"

"Don't hold back, Drew," said Con, tittering.

"—If this guy thinks he's gonna sell on my boyfriend's car, he's got another thing comin', I'll make him regret this…hello again, Martin!" she said, her voice rising in volume and changing pitch. She slithered across the seat and climbed out to face him again, ignoring the way Con was hunched over in the seat trying to control his mirth. "The car IS a beauty. Considering its age, it's got very few miles on the clock."

"Hasn't she just, and don't you love the color?"

"Oh yes, it's a lovely shade. Most people seem to prefer the red, but I like the green – classy."

"That's nothing," Martin said, and addressed Con. "Take a peek at the engine." He jumped into the empty passenger seat and reached under the steering column between Con's legs to pop the hood. "I'm sure you'll agree that you have a quality used car on your hands.

Con slid out to join Nancy and Martin around at the front of the car.

Martin opened the hood fully and swept his hand over the well-tended engine and raised an eyebrow. "You can be rest assured that you can send your daughter out in this baby without having to worry about it breaking down."

Nancy's mouth dropped open. "Oh, no, John isn't—" But she was interrupted by Con's arm suddenly being put across her shoulders, the hand gripping her upper arm. He pulled her firmly into his side and squeezed her tightly.

"What my daughter is tryin' to say is that she's buying a car with her own money. I'm only here to give my opinion. Isn't that right kiddo?" he asked, and planted a kiss right on the top of her head.

Nancy forced a toothy grin. "Yes, that's right…Daddy." She wanting to disentangled herself, but was being stopped by Con's strong hold. Martin had turned to start pointing out the other credible elements of the car's engine, so she took a step sideways and purposefully trod on Con's foot. All at once his arm was gone and she noted with satisfaction that his palm was now leaning against the edge of the car's hood instead. He grimaced and lifted the foot she'd assaulted off the ground. She hadn't put the whole of her weight down onto him with her heel, but she'd pressed hard enough for it to come sharp.

"Martin. I'm very very interested in the car, you weren't exaggerating on the phone, it's beautiful. But before I come to any decision, could I please see the documentation for the car?" Nancy asked. "It's a lot of money to spend and I want to be sure I'm making a safe purchase." She turned and smiled sweetly in Con's direction. "Would you look at them with me…Daddy…give me your expert opinion?

"Of course," Con said, his eyes still watering. "Be with you in a minute, kiddo, taking a good long look at the engine."

Nancy accompanied Martin and stepped down off the podium. As she passed the window, she glanced out at the scenery and pointed to another car that was out on display at the front of the showroom and remarked on how attractive it was.

"Yes. Not as nice a car as the Corvette. Take a seat and I'll find that paperwork."

"Yeah, more like not as expensive as the Corvette!" Nancy thought, glaring at the back of his head as he went into the back room.

Con was now hobbling towards her with a pained expression still on his face.

The door opened again to the showroom and a young woman entered. Nancy watched as Con turned in the woman's direction, his mouth dropping open in amazement just as Martin appeared with the paperwork in his hand. He stopped short at the sight of the female too, near enough salivating at the mouth at the vision of loveliness in front of the both of them!