Corbin (The Theriot Family)

So he needed work done, not Remington or his family. What was that about? I sensed trouble, but I was calling him back before I could talk myself out of it.

“Corbin Theriot.” He sounded uncertain and very unlike he had the two times he’d been in my shop.

“It’s Beau. I understand you need my assistance.”

“Yes, sir.”

If only my fantasy were coming true, and he was on his knees when he said that. “I like you calling me sir. Why don’t you keep that up.”

“I need you to remove some scratches from a sports car.” I heard his annoyance, and I wanted to keep pushing his buttons.

“Could you be a little more specific?” I was sure there was more he wasn’t saying. He could have called almost anyone for something so simple.

He was silent for a few moments, and I started to get impatient when he finally said, “The situation requires discretion.”

“Did you steal the car?”

“No.”

I waited for several moments. “Details or I’m hanging up and getting on with my night.”

“It’s a Ferrari.”

Now I understood. “That wouldn’t be the one that belongs to your brother, would it?”

“Yes.” The word sounded like it was forced through clenched teeth.

“Why isn’t he calling me?”

“He’s headed out of town. I just dropped him off for his flight.”

Of course Remington would be leaving town just when I needed to talk to him about the situation with whoever was after me. “And if I need to speak with him about the repairs?”

“He’s not to be disturbed.”

Corbin was definitely trying to hide this from his big brother. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened?”

“There’s no need for that. The car is scratched. I need the scratches gone.”

His superior do-my-bidding tone was back, but I ignored it for the moment. “So you need me to be discreet about it?”

“That’s right.”

“In other words, you need me not to rat you out to Remington for fucking up his car.”

“I didn’t…”

Oh yes, he had, and I was going to make him pay for his mistake. “I don’t want excuses. I want honesty.”

“I left Remington’s car in a parking lot and someone scratched it all to hell. I need it fixed tomorrow, and you’re not to mention it to anyone.”

“That’s going to cost you.”

“Name your price.”

He shouldn’t make things so easy. “Not now. This is something we need to discuss face-to-face.”

“I don’t have time for—”

“Neither do I. I have a full schedule this week, so you can find someone else to—”

“No. Wait. When do you want to meet?”

If I had any sense, I’d tell him to drop the car off in the morning and charge him double for the work, but I didn’t have that kind of restraint. I was going to toy with him and teach him some lessons he needed to learn. “Tonight’s as good a time as any. Bring the car.”

“You’re working on a Saturday night?”

“Sometimes specialty jobs come in, and I do them whenever I get the chance. Also, I live over the shop.”

Once again, he hesitated before responding, “It will take me at least an hour to get there.”

“I’ll be here. I’d never miss a chance to get my hands on your… car.”

I ended the call and turned back to the parts manual I’d been flipping through. Inviting Corbin here was a big mistake, especially with all I had going on and my backed-up workload, but he’d called me and offered himself—surely he didn’t think I was asking him here to negotiate over money, did he? No, he was going to have to give me far more than that.

Six

Corbin

The drive to Beau’s garage seemed to take forever and not just because of Mardi Gras traffic.

My nerves increased with every mile I drove as I made my way back into town from the airport. I couldn’t stop thinking about the price Beau would demand I pay. I was confident he didn’t only want money. He’d want to make this difficult for me, and he knew money wasn’t an issue. I could pay whatever price he named.

Maybe he’d demand a favor from my family, one I would of course have to negotiate with Remy. What kind of excuse would I give him? How could I have gotten in debt to Beau? My father would know my car was fine.

What else would Beau ask for? No… surely not. He couldn’t stand me. He thought I was a kid. So why would he want to… do exactly what I’d fantasized about him doing?

The last time I’d been at his shop I was sure he was giving me a hungry look, that he wanted me as much as he wanted to humiliate me, but I didn’t even know if he was gay. For all I knew, part of the reason he disliked me was that I couldn’t pass for straight like my brothers, and I’d given up on trying.