Son of a Bitch

The cars moved closer, tires rubbed, bent bodies scrubbed, as the drivers tried to pass or get into position to do so once on the back straight. Engines rumbled as accelerators were kept pushed down, none of the drivers willing to back off. None more so than 27, the battered white car that was in fifth place. It nudged number 88, the red car in front, then swerved over toward number 14, the black car beside it, trying to intimidate the driver to back off. As they came onto the back straight the cars aligning into two rows, the speeds increased, and 27 pulled out on the outside, right at the track’s edge, looking for his own line, stubbornly seeking some advantage over the car in front. They fell down the banked track as they entered the curve and 27 held a high line, the only one, creeping forward gaining a few feet on the other car. On the front straight, number 14 had to stay low, forced to do so by 27 who took advantage and eased past, putting number 88 and 14 behind him. The flagman waved the white flag signally only one more lap and 27 drove hard for the lower line around the next curve, keeping number 14 behind him. He eased inside the next car, number 99, a bright yellow car with black stripes. They battled each other along the back stretch and around the next curve. As they came onto the front straight, 27 pushed upward, causing the other car to back off and he fell into the line of cars, taking third place.

The winner made a victory lap as the other cars coasted down, then eased into the pit. The 27 car drove around to the back side and pulled into the space next to his trailer. Helmet sat to the side, the driver climbed out the window and to his feet. He was five foot nine and lean, weighing less than 140. And he was a stubborn cuss to those who provoked him. Delmont Harlan Barnett was born twenty-two years prior to a carpenter with a drinking problem and a mill worker who would leave when he was twelve. And if anyone called him anything over than Hardy, he would beat the shit out of them, for he hated his given name.

Hardy unzipped his race suit and tied the loose arms around his waist. He tugged his t-shirt off and tossed it into his race car, feeling the warm night air cool his torso.

“Hey, Hardy, that was some nice driving there at the end” said Bo, the driver next to him.

“Thanks Bo, but I still came in third” Hardy replied, frustrated by his inability to the beat the guys who had the nicest, fastest cars. “Hey, will you keep an eye on my shit? I need to piss.”

“Sure, but you better hurry. They’ll open the gates soon and those rapid fans of yours will be here” Bo replied, laughing, making Hardy shake his head in mild disgust.

Hardy knew what Bo was referring. There were some snot nose kids who would come to him for autographs for he was the poor boy who was challenging the rich boys. And truth be told, he liked signing his name across small notebooks and over fliers for the night’s races. It was the women who rushed over to flirt with him, ask him if he had a girlfriend yet, all curious to know that drew his eye. Those were the ones he avoided, and keep his damn mouth shut as the questions flew at him.

The pit office had toilets on the side of the building and Hardy rushed to it, his bladder about to bust. He fell in line and followed the others around the screen wall and into the smelly toilet. There were urinals and lavatories along one wall and a few stalls on the other. He fell in behind Jack, another driver and waited his turn. He glanced around the room at the other guys. A lot of them were older, but there several around his own age, and over at the last urinal was Logan, the youngest driver at the tract. They say he’s seventeen, but Hardy swore he looked more like fourteen. There was the smell of oil and gas in the air mixed with the stench of the toilet room, and it obvious from where it came for clothes and arms were smeared with grease and grime. Jack moved out of the way and he moved up to the urinal and took his cock out. He relaxed and let the stream flow feeling the immediate relief.

At the lavatory he washed his hands and looked in the mirror. It made him wonder about his own appearance after his judgment of Logan. He didn’t look twenty-two, far from it. Skinny, lean torso with no body hair. Barely any under his arms and the attempt to grow a beard had the results that made him wish he had shaved before coming to the track. He tried to compensate for this appearance. The tattoos on his chest and both biceps and earrings in each ear were meant to make him look tough. He glanced over his shoulder wondering how the others saw him. They were friendly toward him, and on the track seemed to respect him, but did they see him as some kid? He considered bars in each nipple, but worried it would be crossing a line, making him look gay in some way. Looking over at Rusty, one of the drivers who was his age. A stocky muscular build and Hardy knew he had green eyes and freckles spread over his cheeks. Would Rusty see him as an equal, someone just as masculine?

And hand came down on his shoulder and he jerked around to see AJ staring him down. AJ was the last driver he passed before the checkered flag.

“Hardy, you son of a bitch, you nearly wrecked me.”

"Seriously, AJ; it was a clean pass and you damn well know it” Hardy replied, standing his ground, knowing to never let another driver see weakness.

“AJ, he’s right, it was clean” Jack interjected, walking up to their sides.

“Whatever” AJ replied, walking away uttering curses as he went into the last stall.

“Pussy,” Hardy uttered under his breath then followed Jack out.

“Don’t let him get to you. He’s struggling and knows it” said Jack, who angled right, heading to the central parking area.

“Thanks, Jack. See you next week” said Hardy as he walked toward his car and truck.

Hardy pulled around his small house and parked under the long canopy that sat at the rear of the property. Ambling across the yard, he couldn’t wait to get out of the rest of his clothes. He hated wearing them, the way they confined him, made him too hot during the summer and fall. Up the stoop and into the kitchen, he stopped at the frig for a beer, pulling the tab and taking several long swallows, feeling the bitter beer hit his system and calm his nerves.

Hardy checked the mail and dropped a little food into the aquarium that sat in what was a pass-thru to the small dining room. Finishing the beer, he crushed the can and tossed it in the bin by the frig. He moved through the dining room and to the doorway that led to the short square hall and the two small bedrooms and bath. He tugged off the race suit the rest of the way, then his boxers, tossing them in the laundry basket sitting in the hall, for the bathroom was too small to accommodate it. He turned on the shower and waited for the water to warm, then stepped underneath it. He was tired from a long night at the track and the beer was doing its job, relaxing him to where he hoped he could fall asleep quickly.

Dried off and still naked, Hardy crawled into bed, the soft cotton linen feeling good against his clean skin. Reaching over to turn off the lamp, he looked at the frame photograph sitting on the nightstand. It caused him to grimace and he wondered why he didn’t move the photograph or put it away. Light switched off, he lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. The quiet nature of the house, he alone within it, settled around him like a dark fog. A streetlight cast a faint glow around the curtain, leaving everything a dull gray, drained of all color, and the shadows were dark, a blackness he saw as some ether floating in the air.

At first, he replayed some of the night’s racing, letting himself see what worked and what didn’t. How certain moves gave him a line that didn’t exist before. But he couldn’t keep the other thoughts out, those that haunted him whenever he was feeling lonely, or at night and in bed, and there was nothing to stop him from thinking of it. That boy in the photograph came to him.

Senior year started like all the others. The anxiousness of having to sit through classes, taking tests or writing reports, then there was P.E. which had been so discomforting for some in ninth and tenth grade where the differences of their bodies could be on full display in the locker room and showers. For Hardy, it was all a struggle. He was a below average student, struggling to pass most of his subjects. It wasn’t that he didn’t have intelligence, but rather he didn’t have the time to spend studying, having to work to help support his father and himself. His father didn’t help by not pushing him to do better. His father even suggested he drop out and work full time, but Hardy knew it was only so he could work less and lay around in a drunken stupor most of the time. Therefore, on day one of his senior year he entered Monroe High and found his first class, which acted as his homeroom, and prepared himself for one more year. It was a small-town school, and friends and familiar faces strolled through the door until the bell rang and the teacher entered, closing the door behind her. 

 “I’m Mrs. French and will be teaching you English for this year.”

 A groan circled around the back of the room and some of the students struggled not to laugh. Mrs. French opened her binder and began to read off the names, starting with Stacy Adams. She was up to Hardy, about to say his name, the real one, much to his consternation, when the door opened. A guy walked in, handed Mrs. French a note and stood, glancing around the room.

 “You just moved to the area?” Mrs. French asked, smiling at the boy.

 “Yes, mam; last month.”

 “Okay, well, take a seat. There’s one over there” Mrs. French said pointing across the room in what appeared to be Hardy’s direction.

 “Class, this is Paul Ryan Casey. What do you go by? Paul or Ryan?”

 “Paul” the boy replied as he walked down the aisle heading toward Hardy. He took the empty desk behind Hardy. “Hey, I’m Paul” he tapped Hardy on the shoulder, extending his hand.

 “I heard…Hardy.”

 “Hardy?”

 "Yeah…just Hardy.”

 “Delmont Harlan Barnett?” Mrs. French called out.

 “It’s Hardy” he replied, aggravated how every year the teachers would use his full name.

 “Delmont? What kind of…”

 “Shut it” Hardy barked, rounding on Paul.

 “Sorry”, Paul replied, holding up both hands.

When the bell rang to end class, Hardy grabbed up his backpack, stuffed his textbook into it and headed toward the door. He was near the back of the line exiting the classroom when a hand came down on his shoulder and he turned to see Paul standing behind him. 

 “Hey man, I didn’t mean anything about your name.”

 “It’s okay, just forget it.”

 “Look, I’m new here and…well, it sucks, and I don’t want to be making enemies my first day, and…”

 Hardy turned to him and found himself looking at Paul, really looking at him. “I’m good. No hard feelings.”

 “Seriously?”

 Paul’s expression, one of worry, made Hardy smile for the first time that day. “Seriously. Well, I have to get to my next class.”

 “About that; do you know were the science lab is located. I have biology next and…”

 “Follow me. I have it too.”

Over the course of the next few days, Paul hung with Hardy, wearing him down, till he accepted Paul as part of his small group of friends. Hardy wondered why Paul didn’t try to befriend others, especially those more popular and doing better in their studies. It was obvious Paul was doing well in class, answering any question thrown at him. But there was something else that made Paul stay separate from the others and Hardy’s stomach knotted, for he was sure as to what made him do it. And he wondered if Paul hung with him sensing he was the same. 

August led to September, then October arrived, and Hardy found himself at Paul’s house whenever he didn’t have to work at Deacon’s Auto Repair out on Highway 41. Paul helped him with some of their course work then they would lay across the bed playing video games. Hardy talked of being a racecar driver, running around the country on the NASCAR circuit. How Everett at the shop was helping him put a racecar back together, one Matthew Deacon’s brother had wrecked and abandoned in the rear yard. Paul asked questions about what tracks he would start on and how he was getting the money to do it. Then he told Hardy how he wanted to be a vet, and work with animals. How he was enrolled for next fall at one of the universities in the state that had a program and doing everything he could to look good to admissions. 

Then one weekend, the one before Valentine’s Day, the two of them playing video games while a cold rain drizzled down outside, they suddenly found themselves alone. Paul’s mother had come to the bedroom door telling Paul they were going town to shop, grab dinner then a movie and would be back late. For about an hour they kept playing one game after the next, till Paul pulled an unexpected move and won decisively against Hardy. 

“Hey, no fair” said Hardy, jumping on top of Paul, pinning him to the bed. They wrestled around, hands fighting for purchase against the other, the whole time the two of them laughing and taunting the other. 

“Say uncle” said Paul at one point when he used his weight to hold Hardy down.

 “No.”

 “Say it.”

 “No,” Hardy replied again, beginning to laugh. 

Paul held Hardy down, face to face, and they settled down, both breathing hard. They stared at each other. Hardy wondered what Paul saw. He knew what he was focusing on. The green eyes, with their long lashes and thin arched eyebrows. The dark hair that was wavy, that looked good no matter how messed up. The angular nose and thin lips, and the teeth that were prefect. And jawline shadowed by a beard trying to come in.

Paul kissed him.

 It was a brief kiss, just a gentle press of lips, but suddenly Hardy was pushing Paul over, struggling to move away.

“What are you doing?” asked Hardy, breathing hard, more from feeling his own inner fears than from any exertion.

“I just thought…”

“You thought what?”

“I don’t know” replied Paul, but they both knew the truth of it. 

“Well…don’t do it again. Okay?”

“Okay. Can we just play some games and forget about it?”

“Yeah, sure.”

But Hardy didn’t forget about, not while they played for another hour and it was time for him to go home. Not over the next few weeks as they went to school, hung out with their friends during lunch or met them in town at the cinema or some diner or restaurant. He berated himself how he stopped Paul, wishing he had had the courage to let things unfold. He liked Paul more than he could admit, and he was torn by the meaning of his desire for his friend, another boy.

Spring was arriving, flowers blooming and grass turning lawns green, when Hardy celebrated his eighteenth birthday, a couple of weeks since Paul’s own celebration. There would be no party, no gifts from his father, but Paul wouldn’t let it pass without a small gathering of their friends, with desert served by clapping wait staff and a small gift laid on the table, with Paul’s small cursive writing on the tag. Their friends laid their own gifts next to Paul’s till five lay in a group in front of him.

There were gift cards, a t-shirt for his favorite band, a pocketknife to replace one he had lost and in the last box, the one from Paul, a necklace with a Celtic Claddagh symbol hanging from it. Hardy felt it was too intimate, too personal of a gift, but despite his reservations, he smiled then put it around his neck. The metal symbol touched his chest, and he felt its coolness become warm by his skin.

Back at Paul’s house, once again alone, this time Hardy didn’t push Paul away. Instead he pulled him down on the bed, initiating their messing around. He gave himself to Paul, willingly lying on his stomach feeling Paul move over him, then the touches that would lead to his first penetration. He cried out, then clutched at the bed and begged Paul to fuck him. 

When Paul climaxed Hardy rolled over and took himself in hand, only to have it brushed away. He had watched in silence, not believing Paul would do it. But Paul moved over him and soon he was buried in the depths of Paul’s hole. Eyes closed, he sank into the sensation of Paul moving up and down on his cock. 

When he had climaxed, they had lain side by side for a long time, then climbed off the bed and showered together. There was nothing said, just hands moving over the other. Afterward everything changed. For weeks they avoided their friends and family, sneaking off to one isolated area or another. Their sex became more exploratory, more physical as they learned what drove the other’s arousal. 

The Saturday two weeks prior to graduation, Hardy was at the shop, working on Mrs. Bryant’s old Mercury when his cell phone beeped. “Call me when you get home” his father had texted. Although it was odd for his father to contact him during work, he didn’t think much of it, for if it was really something important, he would have just called.

At one o’clock, his Saturday morning shift over, Hardy walked into his home, took a hot shower to get the grease and grime from his arms and face, put on clean clothes and went into the kitchen to make a sandwich. His father was on a job site trying to catch up and he remembered the need to call him.

“Hey dad, what’s up?”

“Are you home?”

“Yes, I’m here at the house. Why?”

"Son, I don’t know how to tell you this, but Paul was in a wreck this morning. He’s gone…he didn’t make it.”

Hardy dropped the phone and staggered back against the counter, as his whole world turned upside down.

Rolling over to his side, Hardy stared into the dark corner as tears streamed across his face. Four years still was not enough time to erase the pain of loss he felt. It was like the one person who understood him, the one boy who gave him what he needed and took the same in return, was stolen from him. In the top drawer of his nightstand was a small box containing a necklace and a gift tag with small cursive writing. He kept telling himself to put the photograph with it, but each time he picked it up, he always set it back on the nightstand.

The next Friday afternoon, Hardy drove into the pits with his trailered racecar in tow. He circled around the pit road till he found a spot to park and went to work. He needed to get his car off the trailer, prepped and ready to go on the track for time trails. He was leaned over the driver’s side fender checking the steering when he heard a truck pull in next to him. It was a Chevy, about as old as his Dodge and but in good shape. It’s blue paint looked shiny and new, and the wheels were aftermarket rims. At the sound of the door opening, he looked up to see who was next to him, if it was someone he knew, just in a different truck. A guy stepped down, and Hardy swallowed hard, for the guy was tall, lean, with arms just muscular enough to have some definition. He could see them and the shoulders with the loose tank top that hung on the guy’s upper body. And there was the hair that looked black in the dim light, with a wavy messy nature to it that looked good.

Forcing himself to look back down, Hardy cursed under his breath at how easily he had been distracted. It was a fucking foolish waste of time. No guy at this track would be like him. There was no way. He admonished himself for it frequently over the years, for each guy he let himself consider sooner or later showed up with a girlfriend or a wife.

“Hey, excuse me, but when is the driver’s meeting?”

Hardy raised up and saw the guy was standing at the opposite fender looking at the motor that lay within the engine compartment.

“It’s just before eight, usually about fifteen minutes before. They’ll make an announcement over the loudspeakers for everyone to come to the office.”

“Thanks. You race here often?”

“Yeah, pretty much every weekend there’s racing. Where did you drive from if this is your first time?”

“Actually, I just drove down from Milton. Moved there last month and this is the first weekend I’ve been able to load up the car and come.  I’m Seth.”

“Hardy.”

“So, can you give me a few pointers? You know which drivers to watch out for and what to expect?”

Hardy stood up and looked across his car realizing Seth was a lot taller than his five nine and it was the height that made him look lean, but the arms revealed a more muscular frame than he was initially aware.

“Most of the guys are good on the track, but there are a few to watch out for, like that one” Hardy replied pointing to the inner pit area at AJ’s car. “He’s struggling with his car and it makes him reckless at times.”

“Good to know. Listen, I’ve not had dinner, you want to grab something? My treat.”

Hardy had rushed to get to the track, planning on grabbing something from the concessions, so Seth’s offer was one he couldn’t refuse. “Sure, let me cleanup” as he went to his truck and pulled hand cleaner from the toolbox. Looking behind him, where Jack was checking tire pressure, he called out, “Jack! Can you make sure no one steals this heap?  Or that one?”

Looking up, Jack smiled, “Sure thing.  You got your car ready?”

“I think so. I’ll be back shortly.”

Hardy fell in next to Seth, leading him across the pits, weaving through the other cars till they were falling in line at the concession stand. Seth asked Hardy how long he’d been racing and who was his sponsors and listened to the story of working at Deacon’s and after graduation, some of the guys helping him complete the racecar. They were his main sponsors, but other local businesses also helped. Seth commented on his start, telling him that it seemed typical for those who didn’t come from a race family. Then he told Hardy how his uncle raced and brought him along beginning when he was twelve. He started racing when he was seventeen and until the past year, was at the track outside Manchester, Tennessee nearly every weekend there was racing.

“Why did you move down here?” asked Hardy, as they took their food over to a picnic table.

“I…well…there was some personal issues and I just needed to get away from all of it and start over.”

Hardy saw how Seth’s move was something he did not want to discuss, and he just nodded his head and let it go. He knew all too well, there were some things a guy just didn’t want to talk about.

“I saw you were alone. You don’t have anyone helping you?” asked Seth.

“One of the guys comes when he can, but everyone at the shop has a family and can’t waste a Friday night down here at the track, especially with it’s almost an hour’s drive down.”

“Where do you live?”

“Up in Decatur.”

“I know where Decatur is. Drove through on the way down. So, you don’t have any family to help?”

“No. Dad can’t do it. What about you? You move down here alone?”

“Yep. Just me.”

“Well, maybe we can help each other in the pits?”

“That’ll be nice. But I ain’t going to let you beat me on the track” Seth replied, smiling broadly at Hardy.

“I wouldn’t respect you if you did” said Hardy, serious at first, then breaking into a smile.

After finishing their food, trash tossed in the barrel nearby, they made their way back to their cars to get on the track for qualifying.

The night progressed through qualifying, then the races, one after the next. There were a few wrecks, but the late model races were clean races for the most part. Seth managed one fourth place finish and Hardy once again came in third, unable to get around the two best sponsored cars.  When their cars were back on trailers, strapped down ready to roll, Seth ambled over to Hardy who was in the bed of his truck putting tools away.

“Hey Hardy, I assume you’ll be here next week?”

“Yes, unless something happens.”

“Well, I’ll see you next week?”

Hardy turned toward Seth and for a minute he was tempted to suggest getting together over the weekend, or one-night next week. He was drawn to him, and didn’t want to part ways, not just yet. But he knew it was an attraction he needed to control, or it could get him in trouble. “Yes, of course, see ya next week.”

At the shop on Tuesday morning, Hardy underneath an old Plymouth trying to get the U-joints replaced, someone kicked at his foot.

“Hey Hardy, you got a minute?” Mary Ann asked, the office administrator and first cousin of Matthew Deacon, the owner.

Hardy slid from under the car, wiping his greasy hands, “Yeah, what’s up?”

“Mrs. Tanner is out front. She is having trouble with her car again. Something about getting her phone to connect to it. Can you help her?  Matthew and Roger are tearing into motors and…”

“I can do it” Hardy interrupted, climbing to his feet. “It’s a simple fix; will only take me a minute.”

Mrs. Tanner stood by her Cadillac, one of the smaller sedans. Hardy strolled up and slipped down in the driver’s seat. “Mrs. Tanner, you have your keyfob and cell phone?”

“Yes. Here you go. Thanks for helping me Hardy. This thing is way too complicated.”

Hardy smiled up at here, nodding his head, “Yes, it is. You should see what’s inside the dash.”

Mrs. Tanner pulled out of the lot as Hardy went back inside to the old Plymouth. He was about to slide underneath when Roger walked up.

“Hey, can you help me a minute?”

“Sure thing” Hardy replied, getting back to his feet and following Roger over to an engine secured to a hoist.

“I’m ready to slip it back in and just need help aligning it.”

The two of them worked gently, easing the motor back into its bay. They made small adjustments till the motor was sitting on its mounts.

“Thanks, Hardy.”

“No problem” Hardy replied. He headed back across the shop, slipping around the Camaro Matthew was working on and a Ford truck that Hank was replacing the front spindles. Glancing at his watch he realized it was nearly noon and having skipped breakfast, found himself ready for it. “Hey guys, I’m going to eat lunch” he called out over the shop, hearing a couple of ‘okays’ and one hand wave from under the hood of the Camaro.

He slipped into the reception and office area, heading to the small breakroom in back.

“I guess you got Mrs. Tanner fixed?” asked Mary Ann.

“Yeah, it was nothing really. I just had to reset her phone, then the car.  I’m going to be in the breakroom if you need me.”

Hardy turned past Mary Ann, positioned behind the raised counter, and started down the short hall. It went past Matthew’s office and the small storeroom where they kept some parts on hand, before ending at the door to the breakroom. As he entered the hall, the bell rang out from the opening of the front door.

“Can I help you?” Mary Ann asked, her voice carrying down the hall.

“Yes, I was wondering if Hardy is working today?”

Hardy stopped at the sound of the familiar voice. It was Seth.

“He’s just left for lunch, can I…”

“I’m still here” Hardy interrupted, stepping back into the room. “Hey Seth, what are you up to?”

“I took a couple of days off to get my driver’s license changed and do some stuff around the house.”

“I see; what brings you all the way up here?”

“I just out riding around this morning and…I was just wondering if you wanted to have lunch somewhere? My treat?”

“I don’t need to be taking too long and…”

“Damn, Hardy, it’s a free lunch” Mary Ann interrupted, then turning to Seth, “he’d love to go to lunch with you. Get him out for a few minutes. The boy doesn’t do anything.”

Seth laughed as Hardy burned red with embarrassment.

“Where you would like to go?” asked Hardy.

“You pick. I don’t know Decatur.”

“There’s a Mexican place in the shopping center just down the road that is good, and its cheap too.”

“That works for me. Come on, I’ll drive.”

They walked out the front of the office and Hardy looked around for the old Chevy, the one Seth drove on Friday night. He stopped in the parking lot unsure where to head.

“It’s over here” said Seth walking up to a Mazda RX-7, black in color.

Hardy strolled up to the small sports car looking at the curvature of the body, the way it looked stretched over the engine, wheels and cabin. Seth started to climb in but stopped, looking over at Hardy.

“What is it? Not what you were expecting?”

“No, it’s not.”

"Well, get in.”

Seth didn’t hot rod, spin the rear wheels taking off or zip in and out of slower traffic, but he did drive with authority, each gear shift, smooth and sure. He motored up the highway, slowing when Hardy pointed at the place to turn. They pulled into the parking lot of the old shopping center, where the anchoring grocery store had changed a few times over the years till it was a small local owned operation. The drug store was a vacant space but next to it were a beauty shop, a cell phone store and the Mexican restaurant at the end of the building.

The restaurant was busy, and Seth and Hardy found themselves at a four-top table in the middle of the dining room. Seth leaned back, legs outstretched by the table, crossed at the ankles as he scanned the menu. Hardy tried to look as casual, by leaning back, with his left arm draped over the back of the empty chair next to him. But he felt that knot in his stomach, the one that formed whenever he was around another guy, especially one that drew his attention. Unable to stop himself, he cut his eyes over the menu time and time again, taking the measure of the person opposite him. Glancing around the dining room, some familiar faces, he saw the looks. Some curious who this guy sitting opposite was and some, the women he knew to be single, looked with something more than curiosity. A look he knew all too well.

The waiter came to their table taking their order, and while they waited, conversation turned to racing, and what preparations each were doing. They talked of suspension settings and adjustments to carburetors. Hardy told Seth about his luck with the Ford motor while Seth talked about using a Chevy crate motor. Food arrived and they shifted upright and began to eat. For a few minutes they ate in silence, and Hardy let his eyes cut up, studying the person before him, wondering how this stranger was suddenly here.

“You got a girlfriend?” asked Seth, as he lifted his last taco to take a bite.

“What? Huh…no. You?”

Seth chuckled, then shook his head. “No.”

As if he needed to create an explanation for his still being single, Hardy began to ramble, “I just stay so busy with work then racing, there’s no time. Well, you know, and it seems like time just flies by, I mean, it feels like I just graduated high school and…that was four years ago.”

“Yeah” Seth uttered in a low voice, sounding unconvinced.

“What about you? Did you leave someone back in Tennessee?”

“Not really…no.”

The waiter came to the table with the check and Seth tossed a twenty and a five on the tray and handed it back.

“You ready to go. I don’t want to make you late.”

“Yes. I have a Plymouth waiting on me.”

“A Plymouth? Strange to think of them as no longer in production.”

“We see a lot of those discontinued cars and owners trying to keep them running.”

Seth pulled up to the office to let Hardy out. Standing at the open door, ready to shut it, but feeling he should say something, anything to delay their parting. He leaned down and looked across to Seth. “Thanks for lunch. I’ll see you on Friday?”

“You’re welcome and I’ll see you at the track.”

Hardy watched the little black sports car pull away, slip easily out into traffic and motor away, before heading inside.

For the next three days and two nights, Hardy thought of Seth all the time. He banged knuckles, dropped tools in hard to reach places and let oil drain down his arm with his mind lost to images of Seth. The tall lanky build, the wavy black hair that Seth had to constantly push back out of his eyes. Eyes that were dark brown.  He lay in bed at night, naked, cock hard in his grasp as he masturbated to images of Seth with thoughts sexual in nature.

Hardy arrived early at the track on Friday, and pulled around to the area he usually parked, hoping to see Seth. The old Chevy truck and its trailered racecar were not in the pits. He unloaded his car and checked it out once again, making sure it was ready for the track. He was about slip into his race suit when he saw the old Chevy cross over the track and head into the pit area. It moved slowly around the paved road till it came to where he stood.

“Hey, Hardy, you ready for some racin’?”

“You know it.”

“I’ll catch up with you later” said Seth as he pulled up and parked in the next available slot five spaces over.

There was race preparations, qualifying runs and finally, the driver’s meeting. In the first late model race, Hardy was in fifth position and three places further back was Seth. The cars lapped the track behind the pace car for three laps. The pace car sped onto pit road, the green flag came out and the race began. Around and around the half-mile oval the drivers raced, jockeying for position. Hardy was in third place after several laps, behind the two cars he never seemed able to pass. But in this race, he found an ability to challenge them, to pull up close and run with them around the track. They pulled away from the pack, their cars pushed to near the limit. Hardy felt confident, gauging the second-place car, planning his move.

Suddenly dark objects flew into his windshield and as it registered what he was seeing, the first-place car spun, having blown a tire. The second-place car tried to go low but got caught by the spinning first-place car and with them side by side, they spun counterclockwise into Hardy’s path. He t-boned the back fender of one car and increased the spin of both, sending them down into the grass, then skidding along the wall. Unable to turn, he slid up the steep banked track and into the wall. The hood blew up as the front collapsed, absorbing the force of impact.

Hardy sat stunned at how quickly everything got away from him. He beat his fist against the steering wheel, cussing at his luck. He fought back the frustration that made him nearly tear up, then pulled off his helmet as safety crews came to his car.

“Hardy; you okay?” Richard, one of the crew asked, as he stuck his head inside the car.

“Yeah…I’m okay. But fuck; the car’s totaled.”

“Just be glad you’re not hurt. That was an ugly crash. Let’s get you out” Richard replied, reaching in to help remove the steering wheel as Hardy undid the safety harness.

Hardy climbed through the window and staggered to his feet trying to get his balance. He placed his hand on the crumbled fender noticing how severely damaged was his car. The front pushed back into the motor which was broke from its mounts and tilted back. The front wheel on his side had been torn off and the exposed suspension was twisted and bent. Steam rose from the busted radiator and there was the smell of burning oil.

“Fucking hell” Hardy exclaimed as he stepped back suddenly, fully aware he was not going to be racing again anytime soon. “Son of a bitch” he exclaimed as he turned to walk toward the pits when the medical crew ran up to him.

“Hardy, you need to let us check you out.”

“I’m fine, I’m just a little shaky is…” Hardy began replying, then he saw stars and dropped to the banked asphalt surface.

Hardy struggled to wake up, confused at where he was, some beeping in the background and muffled voices. Then he heard his name.

“Hardy?  Hardy, you awake?”

Hardy opened his eyes to his father leaned over the bed. It hit him how aged his father had become in the last few years. His face was splotchy, with deep etched lines and the beard coming in was gray. He looked sixty-six instead of forty-six. 

“Dad? Where am I?”

“The hospital. They said you had a mild concussion, but you should be good as new in a few days.”

“Fuck. I need to get out of here. I can’t afford this” said Hardy as he pulled the monitors off, threw back the blanket and tried to get out of bed as his dad pushed to stop him. “Let me up.”

“Son, you need to rest a little more. You’ve only been here since last night.”

“And it’s long enough. I need to go.”

“Go where?” came a voice from the door and Hardy and his father turned toward the door. Seth came into the room, hands in his pockets. “You shouldn’t leave now, should you?”

“I’m fine. Besides I can rest better in my own bed. Where’s my clothes?”

“Tell you what. If the doctor says you can leave, I’ll help you. You can even crash at my place for a couple of days. I have your truck and car in my garage anyway, and when you’re ready to…”

“You have my truck and car?” Hardy interrupted.

“Jack helped me early this morning. Did you know he lives just to the west of me? We went back to the track and retrieved your truck and car.”

“Why would you do that?” Hardy asked, his tone questioning, the good deed too much for him to contemplate. “I mean…you didn’t have to go to all that trouble. I appreciate the help and all…”

“It’s no big deal. We’re drivers and drivers help each other, right?”

“I guess.”

“No guessing. See what the doctor says, and we’ll take it from there.”

Hardy lay in bed in the unfamiliar room. He heard Seth rummaging around in the kitchen, then the television switch through some channels. He stared into the dark corner replaying the day’s events in his mind. The doctor not showing up till after lunch, Seth helping him check out, Jack coming up as they were heading through the lobby, and the drive to Seth’s place. It was on the western outskirts of the small town, and Hardy saw it was a house slightly larger than his own, a little brick single-story with a small porch on front barely large enough for one person to find protection. It had been what was in back that made him sit up. At the end of the straight drive that passed by the house sat a 3 car garage, and off to the side away from the house another building that Seth told him was a shop, which had a garage door and a man door on the side facing the gravel drive.

Seth had told him to plan on a couple of days, but he intended to gather his things and head out in the morning. He felt like a charity case and being alone in Seth’s house seemed risky, as if he could accidently reveal himself if he hung around too long. He would take his wrecked car to the shop and unload it in the backyard and make a survey of the damage. He had to get a handle on the extent of the damage in order to estimate the cost of a rebuild. Seth had led him into the house and got him set up in a small bedroom then prepared a simple dinner. They had sat at a small table off the kitchen and once done, the pain returning, Hardy went to bed. Now he lay awake, listening to Seth stir around.

After a long time, the house seemed to settle down. The lights seemed dimmer, the sounds coming from the living room lower. Flipping over to his back, Hardy listened for sounds that indicated Seth was still awake. It was obvious Seth was still in the living room for the light of the television glowed softly in the hall. Listening intently, the faint sound from the television seemed odd. He couldn’t make it out, the volume too low, but there was something about it that increased his curiosity.

Easing out of bed, Hardy, stepped into the hall, then eased toward the living room, keeping to one side. He didn’t want Seth to see him. At the end of the hall, where the hall opened to the living and dining rooms, he saw the television first. The big flat screen mounted on the wall showed a woman between two men. One was fucking her, the other pumping cock in her mouth. They were muscular guys, all clean shaven with that porn star look. She was moaning while the guys were talking to her and to each other. For a few seconds Hardy watched the guys work their cocks inside the woman, imagining it was him between them. It began to arouse him, his cock stirring in his loose boxers. Then he noticed Seth laying along the sofa.

Shirtless, with gym shorts down to his knees and cock in hand, Seth was watching the scene unfold. His hand moved slowly along the hard-thick cock, and Hardy knew he was building up his desire for release. It wasn’t time to cum, so Seth was just keeping himself aroused, cock hard, ready for release with a little more stimulation. In the dim light of the television, Hardy could see Seth’s stomach down to his feet, the long legs propped on the far arm of the sofa. A fair light skinned body, with more definition than previously imagined, it was Seth who now had Hardy’s full attention.

Seth began to masturbate faster, his hand almost a blur, and Hardy looked at the television to see what had changed. The guy that was getting sucked was now behind the other guy, pushing cock into his ass. Slowly, inch after inch, the closeup from below showed one guy enter the other. Then the guy in the middle began to move. He pushed forward into the woman, then swung his ass back, taking every inch of the cock in his hole. Hardy watched the thick cock sink into the other guy feeling his own stir within his boxers. Looking down, he saw Seth pushing up with his hips as his hand moved faster. It was a blur, as it stroked the shaft that suddenly glistened wetly in the dim light.

Hardy wanted to take himself in hand; to match the pace set by Seth, but he couldn’t do it and began to step back as Seth grunted, then sprayed his body with cum. He eased back to the door, crossed the small room and eased down on the bed, trying not to make a sound. He laid in the dark, listening to Seth shut off the television then walk down the hall. Closing his eyes quickly, he heard the silence where Seth had stopped at his door. It went on far too long, and he was about to open his eyes and look over when he heard the soft footsteps proceed to the master bedroom. A soft click of the door closing, and the house fell into a deeper silence than before. Hardy laid awake for a long time before finally falling asleep replaying Seth masturbating.

Seth eased into his bedroom and closed the door, something he normally did not do. He took his boxers and started wiping off the cum that covered his chest and stomach. There was even a line of it running down one thigh. ‘Jesus,’ he uttered at how it was everywhere. He tossed the boxers into the hamper and crawled into bed, naked, frustrated, his emotions all mixed up more than they had been in some time. 

 ‘What were you thinking?’ he chastised himself. He had wanted Hardy to hear him. It seemed so logical at the time. Lure him out and show him how aroused he became watching two guys fuck. He swore Hardy had come into the hall. He had heard the floor squeak once. But he had not heard another sound and when he couldn’t hold back another second, well, it was all over. He questioned himself if he had heard the floor squeak. Maybe it was just the old house settling. 

 Tomorrow he would try to get a better read on Hardy. There had been signs, little gestures, and the numerous times he caught Hardy looking at him in a way he thought he understood. He might be wrong, and it was a dangerous game he was playing, but he was lonely, had been for far too long. And Hardy seemed to be the same. 

Hardy woke to sunlight filtering around the blinds, the room a soft glow of light. He rolled to his back and listened, wondering what Seth was doing. The house seemed silent, empty at first, then he heard the music playing softly. There was movement in the living room. A shifting in a chair or the pad of feet on the rug, some soft sound he would not have heard if not for listening. He slid out of bed, sore, every joint and muscle aching. He felt like he ran into the wall without the protection of the car. He struggled to stretched, grimacing with the pain of it. Sitting on the nightstand was the pain medication, something he would have to take quickly. But first he needed to get dressed. Draped over a chair he found his clothes, all cleanly laundered, and he slipped them on. They even had a fresh scent, something his own laundered clothes never had.

Dressed, and medication in hand, he found himself standing at the edge of the living-dining area where Seth was laid back in a lounge chair. Dressed in white gym shorts and nothing else, the long lean muscular body was stretched out on full display. Seth had his hands intertwined behind his head, and it made his torso stretch out, every muscle visible beneath the smooth skin. Every line of the abdominals visible, the v-shaped overall form descending into the shorts. Below the shorts, the long legs, crossed at the ankles. Finally looking back to Seth’s face, Hardy saw the eyes closed and the head moving ever so slightly to the music playing, some song he did not recognize.

Hardy stepped forward and the floor softly creaked and Seth opened his eyes. Without moving another step, the eyes fell on him and for a moment, frozen in place, he felt like prey trapped by a hunter.

“You’re up” said Seth, sitting up, bringing the footrest down.

“Yep. What time is it?  I can’t find my watch.”

“Eleven twenty-four. Your watch is with your other things on the dining table. Are you hungry?”

“Yes, but I can get something on the way home” Hardy replied, suddenly aware how hungry he truly was.

“Home? You can’t go home yet. You can barely walk.”

“But…”

“No; no buts. I’ve got some chicken laid out and it’ll only take a few minutes to cook it and then you can get some more rest.”

“Seth…this is too much. Why are…”

“Stop looking a gift horse in the mouth. Come and sit, and I’ll get dressed then get lunch prepared.”

Seth prepared chicken with vegetables and placed it over rice. It was the best meal Hardy had eaten in a long time. Usually it was burgers and frozen dinners, for he had never been adapt in the kitchen. After the dishes were washed, dried and put away, Seth came into the living room.

“You want to watch some television or get some more sleep?”

“Actually, I want to get out of the house and walk around a little. I’m so sore and walking around will help.”

“We can walk out to the garage and shop. You ready to look at your car?”

Hardy chuckled, one of resignation, while nodding his head. “Now is as good a time as any. I know it’s really messed up.”

Hardy followed Seth across the rear yard, each step painful. Seth moved at a slow methodical pace; one Hardy could easily maintain. They headed to the garage first. When the first door rose, the motor slowly raising it, the back of the trailer came into view, then the mangled front of the racecar. He knew they had to wench it on the trailer backwards letting the worst become visible as the door settled into place above the car.

“Damn” Hardy uttered as he followed Seth into the garage. It was deeper than he imagined, the trailer still hitched to the truck and the whole rig parked in one bay. To the left, in the next bay sat Seth’s car with the trailer parked in front of it. The car looked pristine in the lights of the garage, especially compared to his own car. He could smell oil and burnt rubber emanating from his car.

“It is pretty bad from the firewall forward, and…” said Seth, stammering to a stop.

“And?” Hardy asked as he walked along the side of the trailer looking at his car. He noticed the body panels were warped along the passenger side and rear fender, and he knew what Seth wasn’t saying. The roll cage and frame were twisted. “Shit, the whole thing is messed up.”

“I saw you hit the cars and it was an angled hit, the left front corner taking the worst, and Jack said the hit in the wall was worse, almost straight on. The motor is broken from its mounts and pushed back and down. The entire front structure is compromised, including suspension. From the firewall back it’s warped, and I’ve not figured out how badly. When we pulled it on the trailer, we kept having to make adjustments, for the rear axle is out of alignment. Not sure how you did that.”

“Fuck…it’ll be easier to start over” said Hardy, putting his hands on the rear fender and leaning over, feeling like he could puke. There was no way he could afford to build another car. He was just barely making it as it was.

“Hey, maybe you can’t rebuild this car but...”

“But what?” Hardy looked up at Seth. “Right now, I don’t want to talk about it, but I can tell you I won’t be at the track any time soon. This has taken me out.”

“Hardy…” Seth replied, unsure how far to go, for Hardy was still a stranger to him, a mystery he had not figured out, no matter how often he believed he knew him at some fundamental level.

Hardy stood up, smiled weakly and stepped away from his car, heading towards Seth’s car. “Show me this motor you’re using in your car, and those interesting wheels sitting over there.”

Seth walked around his car, raised the hood to show the motor he was using, then walked him over to the third bay where the RX-7 sat and in front of it, an old Trans Am, a late 70’s model.

“What’s with the Trans Am? It looks a bit rough.”

Seth laughed, then walked up to the black and gold car. He ran a hand along the fender, slowly, gently, his fingers moving along the bent surface. “It was granddad’s car, that eventually became my uncle’s. Yes, they drove the shit out of it, but…there was some good times riding around in this old thing.”

“So, you’re going to rebuild it?”

“Eventually. I’ve been getting the new parts I’ll need” said Seth pointing to shelves along the back wall where a fender and boxes of parts sat on them.

“You should have it in your shop. Wouldn’t it be easier to work on in there?”

“There’s something else in there; come on, I’ll show you.”

As they crossed the drive to the shop, Hardy fell in next to Seth. “How can you afford all of this? Sorry, but…I don’t mean to pry but…”

“My grandfather left me money when he passed away last year and my uncle gave me everything he had associated with his racing, including the car I’m driving and this” Seth replied, as he hit a key fob button, raising the garage door to the shop. The door rose slowly, revealing a racecar under construction. The roll cage and frame sitting on jacks, the engine bay empty. As they walked into the shop, Seth hitting a light switch, Hardy saw a new motor on a stand and body panels lining one wall.

“Holy shit, you’ve got another car.”

“Yep.”

Seth was sitting on the sofa, after making Hardy take the lounge chair to lay back. They had started a movie and were just sitting quietly as the familiar story unfolded, both having seen it before. After a few minutes the occasional comment or question stopped and Seth saw Hardy was asleep, head tilted to one side and arms laying over his chest.

He looked so innocent. All the hard edges seemed to evaporate while he slept. It was in the eyes, the way his eyelashes were long, curled up enough to look almost feminine. And there was his build. Lean, almost skinny, and it reminded him of some musicians who played with gender roles. Or maybe he was projecting again, trying to make Hardy someone else. The person of his dreams, those fantasies that had grown worse the last couple of months, fueled by his loneliness. 

 “Hardy” he whispered just to hear himself say the name, and he shut off the television letting the room fall silent as he laid on the sofa and watched him sleep. 

Hardy woke to a dark room, the only light coming from the kitchen where he heard the stirrings of Seth at the range. A lid placed back on a boiler, a spoon set down, a brief run of water. The normal sounds of a meal in preparation. The smell of beef and vegetables cooking filled the room making him aware of his hunger. Footrest lowered, he eased to his feet, feeling the soreness that still made every move difficult. In the edge of the light from the kitchen he stopped, watching Seth move about from range to sink to cutting board. Gracefully, ever move fluid, as more vegetables were placed in a pan simmering with slices of beef, onion, pepper and garlic.

“Hey, you’re awake.”

“Yes; what are you cooking?”

“It’s a stir-fry…beef and vegetables which I’ll place over rice.”

“Smells good. I’d probably be hitting a fast food joint for a burger right now if I were home.”

“That stuff is poison” Seth uttered as he stirred the pan, mixing the sauce, beef and vegetables. “Hey, in that second cabinet are plates. Get down two and in that drawer over there…utensils.”

“Okay” Hardy replied, moving to the cabinet Seth had indicated.

After a few minutes they were seated, a plate of food and a glass of water at each place. Hardy had the added ingredient of pills which he took first, feeling the pain start up again. Hardy asked about Seth’s cooking, how he seemed so adapt in the kitchen. Seth didn’t hesitate to explain how he learned from his grandmother when he lived with them. When he started to go with his uncle to the track, he would spend the weekends living with his aunt and uncle. Hardy noticed how Seth skirted the obvious; how he came to be living with his grandparents.

“What happened to your parents? They get killed or something?” Hardy asked, curiosity making him bold.

“Nothing…not really.”

“Huh? They’re still around? But why…”

“Why did I end up at my grandparents? I was fourteen when dad threw me out, and my mother…” Seth’s tone suddenly the harshest Hardy had ever heard it, “she just stood there, arms folded, agreeing with everything he said. My father…he threw some of my clothes on the front lawn, tossed my wallet and a few books and…” Seth stammered to a stop and Hardy waited, sensing he should be patient. “And a photo album. They just threw me away. I went to a friend’s house and called my grandmother. They lived a little over an hour away and almost to the minute in drive time, my grandfather drove up. I expected him to take his daughter’s side, to reject me too. But he walked into that house as if it were a normal visit, hugged me and told me it’d be alright. Within the week I was set up at their home and enrolled in school there. My aunt and uncle would come over and sometime the next month, not sure how long now, he invited me to go with him to the track. To be his pit crew he joked. My grandmother is great and we talk once a week, at least, but I found it was my grandfather that would take me for walks around the property and tell me everything that had happened would soon be a history, my history, and how much it affected me was up to me.”

“What made you move down here?”

“Partly my grandfather’s passing and, if I’m honest, a need to find my own place in this crazy world. There were some problems I thought I had under control, but it just got worse.”

“Why did your parents throw you out? What could a fourteen-year old kid do to deserve that?” Hardy asked, sensing the truth. Something that seemed familiar, the stories he had read online, wondered how some boys and girls had endured the cruelty aimed at them.

“Can we talk about that some other time?”

“Yes…sure. I don’t mean to pry.”

“I know and I know it is something about me that would explain a lot, but not yet.”

“This is really good. Thanks for everything. I’ll pay you back somehow” Hardy began to ramble, looking for a way to change the subject, anything to bring the happier Seth back to the table.

“Pay me back?” Seth repeated, laughing. “Okay, whenever I slam into a wall you can nurse me back to health.”

“Deal” Hardy replied grinning, seeing Seth smile once again. “I do need to get home tomorrow.”

“You feel better?”

“Yes. I’m still sore but I hate intruding on you like this.”

“I get it. We don’t know each other, not really. And you want to be home. When you wake up in the morning, I’ll help you get ready.”

Seth lay in bed that night, the house so silent ever creak of old wood, every increase of wind in the trees could be heard. He stared into the darkness letting himself see Hardy sitting at his table, the two of them sharing a meal. The baring a part of himself, telling Hardy a part of his life, leaving out the main detail, the one thing that sparked the whole affair. The one thing he wanted to admit more than anything else. 

 How Tom and he discovered each other in that school, he’d never know. They had known each other since first grade, but it was the beginning of eighth grade, at Susan Hollings birthday party that they really began to know each other. Intimately, kissing and holding hands when no one was around. They explored what it meant to be a boy attracted to another boy, sneaking off at football games seeking some sheltered place away from prying eyes. When their mothers happened to be at the department store at the same time, some Saturday afternoon, they would find each other and ease into the men’s room or back out to the parking lot, in one family car or another. It seemed so innocent what little they had done. But they knew how it made them different. And they knew the words that described it; gay, queer, homosexual, faggot. The terms so benign in a way, but some so hurtful the fear of being called out was terrifying. 

 It lasted less than five months, this first love, the one that gave meaning to those desires so misunderstood at first. Then they messed up, and let a classmate catch them behind the bleachers during lunch. They were only holding hands, making plans for when they got a driver’s license, when they graduated from high school and when they settled into a job and adulthood, telling themselves they would no longer be afraid of what others thought. 

 Then it all came apart, for Seth that very night, standing in the front yard and having some of his belongings thrown in his face and told to get lost. He was not their son. He wasn’t raised to be like that. Looking back, at how a man who was so pious in public, but was verbally abusive in the way he spoke to his wife, would tell his son he was the one not worthy made him almost laugh to think of it.

 He wanted to tell Hardy. He sensed how Hardy would understand. Knew it had to be the case. Hardy was like him. Had to be. 

 He just needed time to sort it all out, to find a way to bring out the truth. The wreck messed up his plans, but it did bring Hardy into his orbit in a way not planned. It would work out. It had to. He rolled over to his side and stared into the darkness, listening for any sound from the other bedroom, fighting the urge to go into that room and slip beneath the blanket next to Hardy. 

The last thoughts circled around the silliness of it. This longing for someone he had yet to really know. There were other ways to meet someone. Online sights that let men meet, no matter how remote a place they found themselves. But there was something about Hardy. That first time they met at the track. Another guy who did the same things he liked to do. It was too much of a fairy tale in a weird way, but he held out hope, for he’d seen the signs. The gestures, the looks, and how there was a lot not said between what had been. Sleep overtook him as he imagined them racing each other, just the two of them out in front of all the others.

It was Wednesday morning before Hardy felt like he could do his job at the shop. He drove up early, the wreck that had been his racecar on the trailer behind him. Matthew and Roger were just getting out of their vehicles when he pulled to the gate that led to the backyard. It held cars in various states of disrepair, some project cars that may or may not be gotten to sometime in the future, parts cars they could pull from and a few wrecks that should have been hauled off long ago. He was going to slide the racecar into the lot at the back, some place he could not see it on a regular basis.

As he pulled through the gate, he saw Roger and Matthew go into the shop. Easing around the back lot, careful with the trailer in tow, making the turns slowly, he finally got along the property line, the fence lined with some of the oldest cars. He knew there was a couple of gaps and at the largest, the one that he had maneuvering room, he backed the trailer up to the fence. The posts were 6 x 6 timber, and six feet tall. He knew they were set in concrete, which would serve him well in dragging the car off the trailer. There was no reason to be careful with the car for it was a totaled wreck.

Chain secured to the twisted frame and to a post, Hardy eased the truck and trailer forward, hearing the scrap of bent and twisted metal slide off till finally on the ground. With only the rear wheels still on the trailer, it allowed him to ease on forward. When he stepped down from the truck to unhook the chain, he found Matthew walking along the car and Roger undoing the chain for him.

“Thanks” said Hardy to Roger.

“So, how do you feel?”

“Okay. Still sore.”

“I’m surprised you’re still not in the hospital” Matthew exclaimed as he looked at what was left of the front of the car. “Jesus, it’s totaled.”

“I know” Hardy replied.

“Maybe we can help you get another chassis. You know guys sell them all the time” said Roger, as he went to see for himself. “Damn!” he exclaimed, then looking over at Hardy, “you lucky son of a bitch. You could have really gotten hurt.”

“Roger, another chassis would be nice, but I need to make some money first. So, what’s on the schedule today?”

When he got home, the house seemed desolate. It had felt this way ever since returning home on Monday. He found himself standing at the frig, door held open, wondering what he was going to eat. He saw his usual purchases, but nothing looked good. Hadn’t since he been back home. All he thought about was how Seth so easily prepared meals and sitting at the table had felt so normal. And as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he missed it. He slid a frozen lasagna in the microwave oven and turned the television on. The news was on, the anchor reporting on some outbreak overseas and the words became a white noise, nothing understood.

With the small black plastic tray steaming, he sat on the sofa and flipped the channel to a show in re-runs, one he had enjoyed as a kid. Sipping a beer and forking slices of the wide noodles into his mouth, he watched the show, relishing the familiarity of it.

Just as he set the fork in the sink to wash later his cell phone began to ring and vibrate on the counter. Picking it up, he saw it was Seth.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Not much. Just calling to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m good. Getting back to work was nice so I didn’t think about it too much.”

“You put the car in the lot like you were planning?”

“Yep, all the way in back so I can’t see it.”

“Hardy, I called to see if you were coming to the track on Friday?”

"No” Hardy replied quickly.

“I get it. I probably wouldn’t go either, not right after. But I was wondering if you’d come the following week. Come help me?”

Hardy hesitated to answer, torn by the request. He wanted to spend time with Seth but going to the track without a car seemed more than he could handle. “I don’t’ know Seth…really, I don’t.”

“Well, we’ll talk more later and see how you feel. What about this weekend? You doing anything?”

“No, no plans.”

“I’ll call you Saturday; maybe we can do something.”

“Okay.”

“Oh…” Seth exclaimed, “I have to go, dinner seems to be done.”

“Talk to you later” Hardy replied then hit ‘end’.

Friday was a miserable day for Hardy. All day long he thought about how he would normally be preparing for the track. The loading up everything that afternoon and heading down, the prep work, time trials then the racing. Technically he had yet to miss a race, and already he missed it. He banged knuckles and swore more than usual as he worked on an 85 Oldsmobile, a 94 Ford F-150, and a 2013 Cadillac, which was the worst for it was something in the dash. He did two tire rotations and a brake job while the sun settled in the western sky and he knew drivers were showing up at the track.

A text message binged on his phone as he came out of the bathroom near the end of the day.

Wish me luck

 He replied to Seth that he didn’t need luck, but good luck anyway. After clocking out, telling everyone he was done for the day, he drove home, took a hot shower, ordered a pizza and settled on the sofa in a ratty t-shirt and jeans. He was going to watch television and stew in his own self-pity. He even planned to polish off the remaining whiskey sitting on the counter in the kitchen. Tonight, a few beers would not be enough.

The ringing of a cell phone, repeating over and over and Hardy jerked awake, finding himself still on the sofa, with a headache that flared up as soon as he opened his eyes. “Fuck” he uttered as he fumbled around trying to get into a sitting position while picking up his cell phone from the floor.

“Hello” Hardy mumbled into the phone.

“Hey…did I wake you?” It was Seth.

“Yeah, I…kind of drank too much last night. What’s up?”

“I was calling to see if you wanted to do a late lunch. I could come over and pick you up.”

“What time is it?”

“Fifteen after eleven. If you don’t feel like it, we can…”

“No, no, lunch would be good. Give me an hour to get cleaned up and enough aspirin in my system to knock out this headache.”

“That hungover?  Okay. I’ll see you in an hour.”

“Hey Seth; how did you do last night?”

“A third-place finish and a fourth-place finish in the last race.”

“That’s not bad.”

“But not good enough; right?”

“Nope. See you in an hour.”

Myles Bar and Grill was on the outskirts of town, just before the old bowling alley and Chevrolet dealership. The building had been a hardware store, then a garden center before Myles Singletary bought the place back in 2015 when the family auctioned the property to the highest bidder. It took him over a year to renovate the old building, doing structural repairs in the roof structure, putting on a new roof and collecting the items for the interior décor. Old signs, the grille from a 1961 Chevy, a couple of horses from a merry-go-round and so much more that one could not take it all in. But it gave the space an intimate feel, with its dark woods and old tile floor. And it was in this place that Hardy and Seth were seated, up on the narrow mezzanine that ran along one wall and across the back over the bar that ran nearly the full width of the space.

It was late for lunch in the small town and there were only a few others eating lunch, or a few regulars already pulled up to the bar getting a head start on a Saturday afternoon. On the mezzanine, the boys had it to themselves, no one close enough to hear anything said between them. They talked about Seth’s night at the track, how AJ got into another wreck and only one of the guys from last weekend’s wreck with Hardy made it back. Hardy finished his cheeseburger and pushed the empty plate back as Seth slowly ate the salad with fish laying over the top.

“What are you going to do today?” Seth asked as he forked another piece of fish, dipping it in the dressing.

“Nothing.”

“Why don’t you come back to my place. I was going to work on the new car some, then maybe later go get seafood somewhere in the city.  Maybe drive down to the beach area.”

“I don’t know…I mean…” Hardy stammered, unwilling to admit how much he really wanted to hang out with Seth, but at the same time afraid to do so. The more he was around Seth, the harder it was to not reveal himself. But maybe that was what he needed to do. He knew how hard it was to get a real read on someone who lived in the area, but he kept wondering if Seth might be like himself. Even now he saw the looks, the hesitation to say something, like Seth was choosing his words carefully. 

“Come on, you can’t sit around thinking about what happened. Let’s go back to your place, you grab a change of clothes and come on back to my place. We can get our hands dirty tinkering around, then clean up and spend the evening knocking around the city.”

“Okay, let’s do it.”

Hardy had made it to Seth’s place a little after three where the two of them found themselves under the older racecar, it up on jacks. They were searching for a small oil leak in a brake line. Seth was in a t-shirt that showed the staining from being worn in the shop often that no amount of washing would make clean and a pair of worn and frayed jeans. Hardy wore a pair of jeans almost as badly frayed, but worse in black staining from oil and grease, and a grey muscle shirt that the neck was beginning to be torn loose and a hole was in the chest. The loose clothing revealed much about each one’s body. The way shirts hung stretched and loose over lean frames, the way jeans hung low, bulged and curved around their masculine shape. It made Hardy stammer at times when caught looking at Seth with desire. He fumbled with the tools and flashlight when next to Seth under the car, their arms rubbing against each other or legs that bumped together. Contacts that fueled fantasies, made Hardy have those thoughts. He felt his cock stir with desire and had to adjust it time and time again, hoping Seth didn’t notice, but also, deep down, hoping he would.

“Here it is. It’s rubbing the frame at this plate” said Seth shining the light on the dripping line.

“That’ll be easy to repair. Just take out this section, but you need to do something about that bend around the plate or it’ll do it again.”

“I’ll just bend it further over and clamp it here” Seth replied, pointing at the place he was referring. His elbow rose and pressed against Hardy’s arm. Another contact that made him breath harder, fighting urges for more.

“You have a line?” asked Hardy, his voice coming out hoarse.

“No, I’ll have to go get one after work on Monday. Let’s get out from under here. I want to get your opinion on something with the other car” said Seth as he flipped off the flashlight and began to roll out from under the car. Hardy rolled out along with him and shifted a little further away so he could sit up without bumping into Seth again.

They stood and moved to the workbench on the far side of the room, wiping their hands. Seth leaned against the bench, looking back at Hardy as he stepped up. For a moment they just looked at each other and Hardy begged Seth to make the first move, something that seemed such a possibility. Something that just needed a little push to make happen. He couldn’t focus his eyes on any one place, quick glances at Seth, their eyes locking for a brief second, then he would look away, at the bench, the floor, his own hands still smearing grease and oil around with the dirty rag.

“Hardy?”

Hardy couldn’t take it, not another minute. He had to know. No matter the repercussions. He moved to Seth, quickly, without saying a word, and kissed him. It was a quick kiss, but it wasn’t one that could be denied, the way he pressed his lips to Seth’s, then pulled away and stepped back, unable to look at him.

The silence that followed was unbearable. Seemed to go on for far too long. Then movement, from the edge of his vision Seth moved toward him. He looked up and saw a series look that soften, with a smile of acceptance.

“I wondered how long it’d take” said Seth as he moved up close.

Hands moved over bodies, fingers digging into firm flesh. Shirts were tossed on the floor, lips pressed together, moved along faces, around ears, down necks, as jeans were undone by fumbling fingers. It was a release. The moment that said It’s okay. This is right.

 Hardy tugged Seth’s jeans down as he went to his knees, his own bunched around his legs cushioning knees from the hard-concrete floor. He felt fingers comb through his hair as he buried his face into the crotch of the boxers Seth wore. He mouthed the hardening cock within, felt its thickening shaft with his lips, moving them from the base to the head. He toyed with the head till fingers closed into fists in his hair, pulling him closer. He grabbed the waistband and tugged down, desperate to get Seth naked. He wanted to feel skin. He wanted to touch it with his lips, to drag his tongue over it. To taste the salty humanness of it. Cock angled out hard hitting him in the face and he moved to it, mouth open and took it. He pushed forward letting it slide over his tongue and push to the back of his throat.

“Fuck” Seth uttered.

Hardy worked the head while stroking the shaft. He wanted Seth to cum. He wanted it to happen fast, to fill his mouth. He slowed his hand and pulled from the head, forcing himself to make it last longer. Looking up, Seth was standing with eyes closed, mouth open. But as if aware of his stare, Seth looked down at him and smiled softly.

“Please…Hardy…”

Hardy leaned his head lower and sucked one nut into his mouth, he slipped it out and tugged on the tightening sac till Seth shivered. He moved up, tongue dragging over the sac, up along the shaft as he pushed it up against Seth’s abdomen, till the head was in his mouth. He pushed forward till nearly gagging at the penetration of his throat. But he held still, taking every inch Seth gave him. Then he began to move his head back and forth, working his wet lips along the shaft till is glistened wetly. He fumbled with his own boxers until he freed his own cock. He stroked himself as he sucked Seth, bringing the two of them to the very edge of release, panting for breath.

Hardy sensed it. Felt how Seth moved with his manipulations. The guiding of his hand around till he could dig his fingers between ass cheeks touching the tight opening. He felt the grasp of his wrist as he pushed two fingers through it, forcing him to go deeper. It was obvious Seth wanted the penetration. Seth shuddered and worked hips back and forth. A push of cock into Hardy’s mouth, then the pull back sinking two fingers deeper inside his hole.

“Jesus…don’t stop…” Seth uttered as he moved within Hardy’s embrace.

But Hardy did stop, for he wanted Seth in other ways. He pulled off the hard cock, slipped his fingers free of the tight hole and guided Seth around, then down on his back, laying on the creeper cart. Seth rolled back a few inches and Hardy held to each leg pulling him back close. He knee-walked closer, pushing down his erection till he could rub the leaking head over the tight opening. He raked his cock up and down till it was wet.

“Fuck…Hardy, don’t tease me…fuck me” Seth pleaded as he threw his head back, grasp each leg and spread himself open even more for Hardy.

Hardy held each thigh, his cock pressed against the tight opening and he pulled Seth toward him, watching his cock squeeze through then sink inch after inch into the prone body. He stood on his knees, and worked Seth back and forth, his cock sinking inward all the way then tugged back out. He kept it up till Seth stopped shivering and his cock moved easily through the tight opening. It milked his shaft, drove him to fuck faster. He moved over Seth, his hands on the cool concrete floor either side of Seth on the cart.

“Hold on to me” said Hardy.

Seth wrapped his arms around Hardy, hands gripping each shoulder. Locked into place, Hardy began to fuck with his hips. His whole body undulating as he drove into Seth’s depths, then pulled outward till nearly free of the tightness. He fucked with the full strength of his body, the exertion making his muscles tighten, each one visible. He endured the soreness, his arousal far greater. He fucked with a steady rhythm, plunging inward all the way rocking Seth below him, the grip tightening on his shoulders. Then he rose on his toes, his body hovering a bit higher and he increased his pace. A brutal fast pace, with a smack of flesh against flesh. The sound of it echoed in the shop. Only Seth’s cries were louder.

Why had it taken so long for this moment? The question flashed in Hardy’s mind, then just as quickly faded into oblivion of his fogged-up mind. Only the sensations surrounding their fucking stayed in focus. The feel of his cock inside Seth, the hands that clung to him, holding on for every thrust inward, the sound of bodies coming together and their scent. Two men exerting themselves, mingled with the smells that filled the shop.

“Son of a b-i-t-c-h” Hardy exclaimed as cum surged through his cock. He couldn’t hold back, didn’t want to, as he pumped wad after wad into Seth’s depths. He pumped his cock till spent and kept pumping till cum trickled down Seth’s ass and he finally couldn’t take any more stimulation.

Hardy pulled out, his cock dripping, still hard, and he moved over Seth, pushing him down preventing him from getting up.

“My turn” Hardy uttered as he straddled Seth, held up the thick wet cock and rub his ass over the head. Back and forth he moved his ass till he felt wet and aroused to the point he didn’t care how much it hurt. Hands squeezed each thigh as he sank down on the cock, letting it stretch him open penetrating his depths. Then he rode Seth, roughly, up and down, moaning with every penetration. His cock bounced on Seth’s abdomen, leaving a wet trail of every touch. He leaned back, legs spread, ass moving up and down on Seth’s cock gaining a new feel of the penetration. “Fuck…fuck me, fuck me…” he uttered, even though he had Seth pinned down and was the one doing the exertion.

And hand took Hardy, stroked his wet cock as he moved faster and faster. Seth began to moan and try to push upward. The hand moved along Hardy’s shaft, toyed with the head till he shuddered with the manipulation, while he kept up his pace. Up, then down, over and over and over. His cock grew rock hard and he felt his own release build to a climax.

“Jesus…FUCK” Hardy exclaimed, his voice echoing in the shop, as cum sprayed Seth in the face, the chest, then the stomach. He felt his hole spasm around Seth’s cock as he kept moving up and down. Seth suddenly grabbed each thigh and held him down. He felt him trying to jam cock deeper in his hole while shuddering with release.

Hardy rolled off Seth and to his back. The cool concrete felt good against his sweaty skin and he lay still, eyes closed, waiting for his breathing to slow. He heard the cart roll away, then sensed Seth next to him. He slowly opened his eyes and saw Seth laying on his side, head propped by one arm, just staring at him. They locked eyes. For what seemed to be a long time neither said anything. First Seth, then Hardy began to smile, then chuckle, till finally Seth rolled to his back, the two of them laughing loudly.

“You nasty son of a bitch” Seth uttered while laughing.

“I’m nasty?” Hardy replied, and he rolled over till on his stomach laying right next to Seth. He grew silent, then asked in a low quiet voice, “Were you really so sure? About me?”

“From the first time I met you at the track. You weren’t sure? Is that why you were always so guarded?

“Yeah… I guess. I just question myself, telling myself if I’m wrong, well, it’d be hell to pay.”

“I get it” Seth replied, settling into a quiet repose. “What do you say we just prepare something here and stay in for the rest of the day?” he whispered with a mischievous tone.

Dishes were washed and put away. The exterior lights were turned off and the house was quiet, except for sounds coming from the master bedroom. The slow heavy breathing, the squeak of the bed from two bodies moving on it, and soft whispers encouraging the other. Hardy lay on his back, legs around Seth’s waist as they fucked. A slow, bodies grinding together, fuck. They undulated against the other, warm bodies growing warmer. Hands moved over the other, lips pressed against lips, against firm flesh, then tugged or nipped at it. They had been in bed for nearly two hours, still aroused by the other. Cum trickled from holes from previous loads as Seth pumped cock into Hardy’s depths ready to fill him with another.

“Fuck me,” Hardy pleaded as he moved hips trying to increase the depth of penetration.

Seth pushed into Hardy’s depths and shuddered with release as cum ejaculated from Hardy’s cock and spread out between them. Hardy shuddered with release and with the feel of cock thrusting into his depths. They kept moving till both were spent and exhausted from their continued exertions.

Seth rolled over and sat up, looking over his shoulder at the prone body next to him.

“Come on, let’s shower.”

 The next Friday found Hardy in the pits helping Seth prep for time trails. He had swallowed his pride, knowing he wasn’t the first having to do another car before returning. Jack had come over to check on him, offering any assistant he could. When the first race began and Seth was working his way through the field, Jack right behind him, the two working together to get to the pack at front, Hardy thought it would be when he missed it the most, but it wasn’t. He was rooting for Seth too much, wanting his boyfriend to do well.

After the last race when Seth managed a second-place finish, following Jack across the finish line, they loaded up the car, stowed tools and stopped to talk to fans who came into the pits. Hardy was surprised by the number who asked how long he would be out, wanting to see him return. At one point a teen boy came up, tall, skinny, his glasses slightly askew, wanting autographs, asking all sorts of questions about how to start.

Seth took the little black notebook held out, asking the boy his name.

“Henry” the boy replied.

“Well, Henry, you need sponsors first and foremost, unless your parents can pony up for the cost of fielding a car” said Seth as he signed the boys little black notebook, noticing it had fliers and photographs sticking out.

The boy turned to Hardy, the eagerness evident in his face, “What about you? When will you be back?”

“I’m not sure…”

“He’ll be back soon. We have a plan to get him back sooner rather than later” Seth interrupted.

“We do?” Hardy asked.

“We do” Seth replied, then handing the autograph book back to Henry, “here you go. Thanks for coming by, and if you’ll excuse us, we need to hit the road. We have about forty minutes of driving to get home.”

Hardy behind the wheel and Seth leaning against the door, arm on the sill, letting the cool night air swirl through the cabin, Hardy turned the radio down as they approached the all night diner that sat on the main highway north of the city.

“What plan do we have?”

Seth laughed, then put his arm along the back of the seat so he could rest his fingers on Hardy’s shoulder, massaging the firm flesh beneath the t-shirt.

“I think, with your help, we can get the new car complete in the next couple of weeks. Then we use both cars, you drive this one and I the new one.”

Hardy ran off the road and had to bring the truck and trailer back into his lane, and he looked over at Seth then back at the road a few times. “You mean I help you…and then I get to…”

“Yes, Hardy, we put both cars on the track. Just think of it; the fun we can have.”

Hardy turned into the parking lot, pulling out in the lot next door where tractor-trailer rigs parked and eased to stop. He shut off the motor and sat staring ahead. He heard Seth swing open his door and slide off the seat to stand by the truck.

“You getting out?” Seth asked.

“Yeah…yeah” Hardy stammered. He climbed out and moved up next to Seth as they crossed the gravel lot, then the paved parking lot around the building. On the sidewalk, Seth threw his arm around Hardy’s shoulder, laughing. “Come on, I’m starving.”

At the booth in the back corner, Seth sideways in the bench seat, feet dangling out in the walk, Hardy leaned over close, his tone still questioning.  “You really think we can get the other car running in a few weeks?”

“Hell, Hardy,” leaning over toward him, “we can have it running this week if we push ourselves. I got the last parts needed on Wednesday.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Let’s eat, and on the way home we can plan the next week or so, the evenings you can come over and help.”

The truck and trailer were pulled into the garage and with the racecar in the next bay. It had a fresh tire rub on the driver’s side and was covered in dirt and debris, some of which were small particles of rubber from tires being worn down quickly. The garage doors were lowered and only one light was on, giving the interior a slivery shadowed feel. At the front of the racecar, laying back on the hood, Seth was naked, legs held to Hardy’s chest. Hardy was shirtless and pants around his ankles. There had been an urgency to their desires, the lust for sex with the other. Hardy had sucked Seth to the point of coming, then pushed him back on the car. Now they were fucking, Seth rocking in rhythm with Hardy’s movement, the thrust of cock into his depths then the pull outward. Hardy moved with a practiced tempo. His abdomen smacked against Seth’s ass as he bore into the depths of Seth’s body. Over and over, till he had to slow or come too soon. He pulled out and twisted Seth’s legs to one side and shoved back in, hammering cock in a different angle. Seth moaned louder, as each hand gripped the front of the car to stay in place. Otherwise he knew Hardy would push him over the hood with every thrust.

Seth had learned over the last week that Hardy liked to be pushed, to be talked to roughly, whether he was on top or bottom. It spurned him on. And right now, he wanted to push him. There would be time for more intimacy later, once they got inside.

“FUCK…fuck me, you son of a bitch” Seth exclaimed, his voice far too loud in the garage. Hardy tightened his grip and hammered Seth’s ass, rocking him up the hood. “Pump it in me…come on…FUCK…do it” Seth uttered, his voice reverberating with the rhythm of their fuck. Hardy pushed his legs up and over till knees were pressed down on the hood. Looking between them, Seth could see his own leaking erection laying over his stomach and Hardy’s thick cock as it piston in his hole.

“OH, fuck…come on Delmont Harlan Barnett, is that the best you can do?” Seth taunted Hardy.

“Bastard” Hardy uttered through gritted teeth as he pulled further out and shoved in harder. The car squeaked underneath them as Hardy pummeled Seth’s hole. It was a push to the point of no return. Hardy bellowed as he jammed cock all the way inside Seth and kept jamming his abdomen against the upturned ass, pushing wad after wad as deep as he could.

Hardy collapsed on Seth, breathing hard, their bodies slick with sweat. They felt the other’s heat as Hardy slipped out of Seth while pressing lips together. He raised up, lips barely apart. “Fuck me.”

Seth pushed Hardy down on the hood of the car face down. He stood on the boxers and jeans around Hardy’s ankles and told him to step one foot free whereupon he kicked legs apart and moved up close. “Spread them” he commanded and watched Hardy reach back and spread his ass till the wrinkled rosebud was visible. He moved to it, raked his wet cock over it, up and down the space between the cheeks.

“Fuck Seth, stop teasing me” Hardy exclaimed, and Seth saw the fingers of each hand strain to spread the cheeks further apart. He put his cock to the rosebud and pressed against it, testing its tightness.

“Tell me what you want” Seth whispered as he rubbed his cock over the rosebud till it was wet.

“I want you…I want you to fuck me…please” Hardy replied, his words growing more desperate.

Seth pushed, watching his cock squeeze through, He felt the tightness, the way it encircled the head, then inch after inch of the shaft that he pushed through till his abdomen was against Hardy’s ass. Hardy released his ass and laid each arm over the hood above his head. Spread over it, with Seth between his legs, he felt his submission. The need to for another to take control. For it to be Seth.

Hardy rocked against the hood, his face pressed against the smooth metal, as Seth fucked him. It was a steady rhythm, slow, penetrating, with Seth’s hands moving over his back. He closed his eyes focusing on the feel of each penetrating thrust into his depths. The feel of cock inside him. The way it connected Seth to him, the intimacy of it. He didn’t want it to end. His own cock trapped beneath him grew hard and moved slickly over the metal hood.

Hands gripped his shoulders and pulled him upright. One hand came to his throat and the other encircled his cock. As cock pummeled his hole, and the hand on his throat pulled him back till their bodies were pressed together while the other hand stroked him to full arousal. He was rock hard and leaking in no time. The hand stroked him till wet and he was pushing his cock through it and pulling back, banging his ass against Seth as cock bore into his depths. He’d never felt sexual like he did now. The masculine nature of his own body, and they way he gave himself to Seth, for each one’s pleasure. He no longer held back some part of himself, afraid to ask for what he wanted. And Seth never failed to give it to him. He shuddered and rocked in Seth’s embrace, his body feeling feverish with desire. He was burning up and his senses perceived nothing but Seth. Even the racecar became a background of blurred color.

Hardy felt his imminent release, surprised at how quickly Seth pushed him to the point of no return. He shuddered and thrust his hips forward. Cum sprayed from his cock in thick wads landing on the hood. He kept coming as Seth kept fucking. The stimulation was so great he struggled to breath as his hole spasm around the cock moving through it.

“OH…Seth…FUCK” Hardy cried out as his cock dribbled out the last of his cum. Then he realized Seth was coming too. There was the thrust into his depths then the grind of abdomen against ass. Seth shuddered and jerked with release, pushing him down on the hood, and pushing inward a few more times. Slower, a full penetrating push, as Seth emptied himself inside Hardy.  Hardy felt his cum smear over his chest and stomach as he lay in his load while Seth worked spent cock in his hole. He felt cum trickle down one thigh and wondered how Seth could still shoot such a large load.

Then Hardy felt empty as Seth slipped free and stood behind him. He wished it could last forever but knew the foolishness of the thought. He pushed up to his feet and felt a hand slid into his own.

“Let’s get cleaned up and into bed. I’m beat” said Seth pulling him toward the man door on the side of the garage. They didn’t bother to dress, leaving their clothes scattered across the floor to retrieve the next day. There was no one around to judge them for it, or for anything they did.

The next two weeks passed quickly, Hardy staying at Seth’s every night, making the forty-five drive to and from work during the week, and once the two of them were home, dinner either in the oven baking or a quick sandwich shoved down, they were in the shop. The suspension was put on the frame, wheels and tires bolted on, then the motor set in the engine bay. The interior was finished out with seat, gauges and steering wheel, the fuel cell secured in back. Each phase made what was once a roll cage and frame look more and more like a race car. The body was put over the roll cage and Seth sat at the work bench, laptop open, as he finished the paint scheme he wanted. By the end of the first week the car was basically complete. The second week Seth painted it, adhered the stickers and ran one more diagnostic test. On the Thursday evening they fired it up and drove it out of the garage, hollering and cheering like fools.

Seth pulled out on the road while Hardy kept watch and ran down the road about a mile and back, pushing the motor enough to get a feel for it. It had been running on the stand for hours, so the motor was broken in, ready to run.

Back in the garage, the new car pulled in next to the old one, Seth climbed out, grinning from ear to ear.

“It feels good. The steering seems tight and balanced.”

“Good. We should get it to the track early so you can make some runs before time trials to make sure” said Hardy as he came up to the new car running a hand along the fender.

“What about you? You ready to get back in a car?” asked Seth, nodding over to the other car.

“Yeah, but we need to go through it, don’t we? It’s sat for two weeks and no one has checked it out.”

“Not true. I took today off and went over this morning.”

“You did?”

“Yep. And you didn’t even notice.”

“Notice what?”

Seth led Hardy to the driver’s side and pointed at the top of the window opening where his name had been located, but now it said Hardy Barnett. “I think we load both of them up before he we go in.”

Hardy starred at his name on the car, having walked past it numerous times during the day, never noticing Seth had changed it.

“Seriously…we’re doing this tomorrow?”

“Hell yeah, what have we busting our asses for the last two weeks, if not for this moment. Come on, let’s go get your trailer so we can have both cars ready to go.

To be continued.