Mancave (Wild Men 3)

Ah, inside joke. Never mind.

Swallowing a sigh, I go to the sink to wash the grime and oil off my hands. I wipe them on a filthy rug that plays the role of a towel and turn back to find Merc right where I left him, leaning against the car I’d been fixing, hair like a hedgehog and a faraway look in his eyes.

“So what’s up?” I lift my fist, and he bumps it absently. “No classes and no work today? What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s up.” He puts his earphones back on, takes them off again. His cheeks are flushed.

“Ah-huh. Come sit down with me.” There’s a bench running alongside the garage bay, and I lead Merc there. Sinking down, I stretch out my legs and fold my hands behind my head. “Now we can talk.”

Merc sighs and slumps beside me. “You’re a pain in the ass.”

“Hey, you showed up here, looking all distraught and stuff. Should I ignore you?”

A muscle works in his jaw. “Whatever. Look, Matt… you understand girls, right?”

That’s a direct question, right there, and I asked for it. Still, I take my time and think back to my conversation with my six-year-old son last night. I shrug. “Maybe. On some days. Why? Girl trouble?”

I mean, the kid’s handsome in that cool ice and roses way of Gigi and Ross. He’s been working out, too, and he’s strong. I’ve had him help around the shop more than once. I bet chicks dig him.

So I’ve often wondered why we never see him with a girl—or a boy, for that matter. Whichever way he swings. I’d wonder if he’s asexual if it wasn’t for the fact I’ve seen him check girls out now and then.

“If a girl likes you… you’d know, right? I mean, it’s not like they’re an alien race or anything… The signs should be clear.”

Aliens, signs… “Um, I guess?” I remember Octavia looking at me, smiling, blushing—cooking for my kids, forgiving my crude ways.

When did I know she liked me? Not sure I can put my finger on it. She says she fell in love with me from the start.

The first time I saw her, I slammed my door on her face. So what gives? How did she know I liked her? Human relationships are fucking complicated.

“Who’s this chick we’re talking about?” I ask, to buy some time. “Do I know her?”

“Nah. Met her at college, we’re together in a class. But she’s just so… hot and cold, you know? She’s driving me crazy.”

“Yeah?” I frown. That doesn’t sound good at all. Octavia was pissed at me sometimes, but she was right to be, because I was being a stupid ass. “Like?”

“Like… she’ll just come sit close to me, pass me her pen, tell me we should meet for a coffee. And then, next time, she’ll just ignore me. It’s so fucking weird, man.”

“Yeah.” I glance at him. “So why haven’t you told her off yet? Plenty of chicks on campus, buddy.”

He shrugs. “I like her. When she’s in her good mood.”

I wince. There’s a recipe for disaster right there… right? “Not sure that’s a good idea, Merc.”

“I like… her eyes, her mouth, her fucking boobs, man…” Merc sighs dreamily, and I want to laugh but keep my mouth shut to keep him going. “I like her smell, her voice, how she likes the same songs I like, the same classes. I just like being with her, you know?”

Oh shit. He’s crushing on this moody girl. “Can’t you talk to her? Find out what’s going on?”

“I tried. She’s always running away. It pisses the hell out of me.”

Dammit. Then I think, I was a moody bastard when Octavia came into my life and broke down my walls. She didn’t give up on me, even when I was a real asshole to her. She saved me.

But I hesitate to say all this to Merc. What worked for us may not work for him. Besides, why the hell do I have to compare everything to myself and Octavia?

“Look, I shouldn’t have unloaded this on you.” Merc gets up, adjusts the straps of his backpack on his shoulders. His jaw is clenched. “Asking you these stupid questions. You’re not my dad, and we’re not chicks to sit around talking about shit like this. Forget all this, okay? Gotta go.”

Whoa. “Just a sec, man. Not only chicks talk about this shit. And yeah, I sure as hell ain’t your dad, but… Merc, wait!”

He’s already marching off through the bay, and he’s damn fast. I lurch to my feet and jog after him, catching up with him right before he steps out into the street.