The Way You Say My Name Ch. 15

Sadie's eyes were pleading, but she didn't argue with him. "I hope you're right, Jamie."

She wasn't the only one who hoped he was. Jamie didn't even want to think about what could happen if he was wrong. #

Even as worried as he was about what he was likely to find in searching Ben's things, Jamie couldn't help but laugh at the cautious way Dillon eased himself into the driver's seat of the low-sitting Firebird. "What's the matter? Sore?"

Dillon shot him a dirty look. "You should know. You're the one who stuck that tree branch of yours up my ass."

"As I recall, you loved it." Jamie climbed into the car amidst Dillon's assurances that he had. It wasn't until he was completely seated and was closing the door that Jamie remembered the last time he was in that car. The night of the dance. The last time he ever saw Ben. Jamie had talked to him the next day on the phone, but that night was the last time Jamie ever saw Ben's face. The hurt must have shown on his own face, because Dillon's reaction was automatic.

He reached over and squeezed Jamie's hand, his palm warm and comforting. "You know, you can sell this car if you want to. If it hurts you to even sit in the thing, there's really no point in keeping it."

Jamie shook his head. "It's okay. Just gonna take me a little while to get used to it, is all."

Dillon gave Jamie's hand another squeeze. Jamie reached into his pocket and handed over the keys. "You ready?"

Dillon nodded, then paused. "Can I ask you something?"

"You know you can."

"What about Ben's ashes?"

Jamie drew in a deep breath. "The mortuary sent them to Nora, and she's agreed to keep them for me for a while, just until I can figure out how to fulfill the terms in Ben's will."

"You mean the part about waiting until you're completely happy and then releasing them somewhere?"

"Yeah."

Dillon gazed at him long and hard. "Haven't you been happy, Jamie? With me, I mean." Jamie smiled. "Yes. Happier than I've ever been in my life, in fact. But--"

Dillon cut him off with a loud sigh. "But you can't be completely happy until you have Ben's death and the rest of it all settled in your mind."

Jamie leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. "Not completely, no." He turned his head in Dillon's direction and opened them again. "Does that make me sound like a total dick? I mean, here I am belonging to this amazing guy, but unable to let go enough to totally enjoy him."

Dillon popped the key in the ignition. "It doesn't make you sound like a dick, Jamie, but I have to admit, I'm hoping there's something in Ben's stuff that can answer your questions. I'm ready to put this behind us."

Jamie had the same hopes, but two hours later, as he sat on the floor of their apartment surrounded by empty boxes and Ben's few possessions, those hopes dwindled and Jamie had to admit to himself that he wasn't going to find anything, not that way.

Dillon came up behind him, sitting down so that Jamie was cradled between his legs. Dillon put his hands on Jamie's tired shoulders, rubbing with deep, forceful motions in an attempt to ease the tension.

Jamie leaned back against Dillon and closed his eyes. "That feels so good."

Dillon kissed his cheek. "Find anything?"

"No, but not for lack of trying." Jamie opened his eyes and pointed to the array of stuff scattered on the floor. "Forty-six baseball cards, eight ratty ole' comic books, a donkey that shoots cigarettes out of its butt--"

"I didn't know Ben smoked."

Jamie shook his head. "He didn't. God only knows where he got the thing, but you're missing the point, Dillon. I went through all his stuff, and I didn't find anything. Not one clue."

Dillon kissed him again. "You know what you need?"

"Besides a fifth of Jack Daniel's, you mean?"

Dillon tickled his ribs. "This coming from the guy who gets high off root beer. Not even close. You, my friend, need a driving lesson."

Jamie swatted Dillon's hands away from his ultra-ticklish mid section. "Quit it before I pee." When he'd gotten his breath back, he said, "We've talked about this before. I can't drive, and you know it. I don't even have a permit."

"You took driver's ed, though. I know you did, because it's required. And you have to have a permit to take that class."

Jamie nodded. "I took it last year, and I passed, but only because Coach Greenly went easy on me."

Jamie could see the shock on Dillon's face out of the corner of his eye. "Coach passed you even though you couldn't drive?"

Jamie nodded. "Fraid so. I got so scared the first time we went out, I almost wrecked the damn car. Coach passed me, anyway, because he didn't want to mess up my academic record with a failing grade. I know it sounds screwed up, and if anybody ever found out he'd be in deep shit, but he was trying to help. It's a good thing for me Plunkett's on-the-road driver's training is one-on-one. I'd never have gotten away with it otherwise. Aunt Sadie was mad as hell when she found out about it. I had to beg her not to rat out Coach Greenly."

The look of mock-horror Dillon sent him was comical. "You mean I've saddled myself with a cheater? God help me."

Jamie pinched him. "Yeah, well He's the only one that's gonna be able to help you if you don't stop teasing me. And like I said, I had a permit, but I'm sure it's run out by now. That was over a year ago."

Dillon shook his head. "Those things are good for at least a couple of years. Didn't you even look at the expiration date?"

"No, why would I? I can't drive, so what's the point in having a permit? I threw it in one of Aunt Sadie's kitchen drawers as soon as driver's-ed was over with."

Dillon stood up, pulling Jamie to his feet in the process. "The point in having a permit, genius, is so that you can learn how to drive. Come on."

Jamie followed even as he said, "Where are we going?"

"To get your permit. Then you're gonna have your first lesson."

Jamie was horrified. "At night? On the road?"

Dillon grinned. "Yes, and yes."

Jamie followed Dillon up to the main house, not that he had much choice. Dillon always called Jamie stubborn, but Jamie was nothing compared to Dillon when he made up his mind about something. Jamie's last thought as he pulled the apartment door closed was whether or not he and Dillon would make good crash test dummies. He had a feeling they were about to find out.

#

Sadie eyed them with a mixture of amusement and wariness as they came to claim Jamie's permit, but she didn't say anything, and Dillon was glad. He was having a hard enough time convincing Jamie that he could actually do the whole driving thing as it was. Poor guy looked scared to death, but Dillon was just gonna have to remain firm on this one. Everybody above the age of sixteen needed to know how to drive, and that's all there was to it.

Dillon and Jamie walked back across the yard and up the separate driveway of the carriage house. Jamie headed to the Lumina, which was parked halfway up the drive, but Dillon shook his head and pointed towards the garage, where the Firebird rested.

Jamie's eyes went so big they were all Dillon could see in the dim glow of the security lights. "You want me to drive Ben's car? Dillon, that's a stick shift."

Dillon unlocked the garage door. "And you point is what again?"

Jamie rolled those same big eyes. "I can't even drive an automatic, let alone a stick."

Dillon almost laughed at the irritated tone of Jamie's voice, but he held it together. "If you learn how to drive a stick, you can drive anything. Heath taught me how to drive on a stick, and that's how I'm gonna teach you."

"Heath taught you how to drive instead of your dad teaching you?"

"Yep. Good ole' Douglas was too busy to teach me, so Heath took over." Dillon raised the garage door and pointed to a spot on the other side of the driveway. "Why don't you wait for me over there while I back it out and turn it around? I'll teach you how to go in reverse later. Right now, though, I think we should concentrate on going forward."

Dillon heard Jamie mutter, "And I think we should just look into getting me a bus pass," but he did as Dillon asked, anyway. Damn, he was cute when he was all agitated like that. As the engine rumbled to life, Dillon had to admit that Ben had great taste in cars. He looked to Jamie, standing off to the side. And men. Ben had great taste in men. At least, he had when he'd fallen for Jamie.

Dillon backed the car out and took advantage of the wide driveway to whip the car around so that Jamie could just drive it straight out onto the street. As soon as he had the Firebird in position, Dillon put the car in neutral and got out, coming around to the passenger's side. "You ready to do this thing, baby?"

Jamie cringed. "Hell no on that one. Look, Dillon, I don't even know what position to put the gears in."

"Get into the driver's seat and I'll teach you." An idea had popped into Dillon's head, the perfect way to show Jamie how to shift gears. Dillon was betting on the fact that Jamie wouldn't forget, especially not given the method of instruction Dillon was going to use.

Jamie complied without protest, though Dillon could tell there was plenty he wanted to say. He waited until Jamie was seated on the driver's side before climbing in himself. As soon as they were both buckled, Dillon said, "You ready?"

Jamie shook his head. "No, for all the good it's gonna do me." He reached for the keys. "You want me to start it up now?"

"Nope. I want you to unbutton your jeans."

There was just enough light surrounding the driveway for Dillon to get a clear look at Jamie's face. Jamie couldn't have looked more confused if Dillon had asked him sacrifice a live chicken on the courthouse steps. "What in the hell does unbuttoning my jeans have to do with driving?"

Dillon knew Jamie. If he told him outright what he was planning, Jamie would raise a fuss. "Uh-uh. First you have to do it, then I'll tell you. You're just gonna have to trust me on this one."

Jamie eyed him long and hard before sighing and doing as Dillon asked. As soon as Jamie's pants were unfastened, Dillon reached for him. Jamie squeaked out, "What are--"

"Shh." Dillon freed Jamie from the confines of his boxers and said, "Now, start the car so we'll have some heat in this thing."

"With your hand on my dick? Dillon--"

"Please, Jamie, just do this for me, okay?"

Another sigh, then the purr of the engine as Jamie started the car. Dillon grinned. Time for the first lesson.

One thing Dillon had counted on--could pretty much always count on--was Jamie's reaction to his touch. He started getting hard almost as soon as Dillon wrapped his hand around him. Dillon stroked him with a light motion until Jamie was rigid enough to begin. Then, with a gentle motion, Dillon wiggled Jamie's penis back and forth. "This is neutral."

Jamie was having trouble following. "Huh?"

Dillon smiled. "I'm going to demonstrate the positions of the gears using your own personal, um . . . shifter. As soon as I'm done, I want you to do the same thing using the real shifter."

"Are you nuts?" But there was no heat in Jamie's voice, especially not with Dillon stroking him the way he was.

Dillon laughed. "Yep, all part of my charm." He wiggled his hand, again. "As I was saying, this is neutral. Feel the slack in the gear shift?"

Jamie half-answered, half-panted, "Yes."

"Okay, you can take your hand off the shifter, now." As soon as Jamie relaxed back against the seat, Dillon moved his hand forward. "Okay, this is first gear."

Jamie leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "Damn. I think I like first gear."

"Then you're gonna love second, third, and forth."

And he did. Dillon's lesson turned into a fifteen minute, mutual masturbation session that left the both of them more than a little bit satisfied.

When they were finished, Jamie zipped up his jeans and gave Dillon's hand a little squeeze. "Damn. We didn't even unbuckle our seat belts."

"Well, you know what they say. Safety first." He pointed to the shifter. "I'm ready when you are. Put your left foot on the clutch and your right foot on the brake. Then we'll get this show started."

Dillon's plan had worked two-fold. Not only had he shown Jamie "firsthand" the proper positions for the gears, but Jamie was now too relaxed to argue. Well, not much, anyway. He gave a token protest, but put the car into first in spite of his misgivings. It only took him six tries to keep the motor running in the process. Dillon winced each time the thing went dead and Jamie ground the gears in yet another attempt to get her on the road. Finally, though, on try number seven, Jamie managed to work the clutch and the accelerator together. Dillon almost shouted with relief when he felt the car inching forward.

But his relief was short lived. Just as Jamie lurched to the edge of the driveway, the left front tire made a loud pop, followed by the unmistakable hiss of air escaping its rubber confinement.

Jamie slammed on the brakes, not a hard slam considering they were going less than a mile an hour. "What did I do?"

Dillon was already unbuckled and on his way out to check. "I think you ran over something, probably one of those tack strips they pulled up when Megan's dad and her brother ripped out that old carpet. Dean sat all that stuff next to the curb."

"Yeah, but city sanitation picked all that stuff up." Jamie shut off the engine without even bothering to take the car out of first.

Dillon came back in and helped him get the car into neutral, again. "Calm, down Jamie. A piece of it probably got left behind, is all. No big deal."

Jamie got out at the same time as Dillon. He looked so shaken, Dillon gave him a task just to keep him focused. "Grab my flashlight out of the garage, please. The light out here is too low for me to see what we hit."

Jamie was all too happy to go. By the time he got back with the light, Dillon was in position, ready to inspect the damage.

As he'd thought, a stray piece of tack strip had worked its way into the driveway and under the tire. The tread was totally wasted. Dillon stood up and brushed off his knees. "Looks like you're about to get a lesson in car maintenance, Jamie. You're about to change your first tire."

Jamie groaned. "I thought you said this driving stuff was easy." He walked back around to the driver's side and pulled the keys out of the ignition. "Ben had a flat tire the night of the accident, remember? Nora told me the police towed the car into the station, but changed the tire for her when they released it to her custody after Ben's death was ruled a drunk driving accident. I'm betting they put the spare on and just threw the flat tire into the trunk after they were done."

Sure enough, as Jamie raised the trunk lid and Dillon got a good look at the so-called spare, he could see that Jamie was exactly right. Dillon reached for the jack. "At least we can go ahead and take the old tire off. We'll have that part done, anyway. And we can take the one in the trunk to the auto-parts store. Maybe it can be patched."

Jamie just nodded, and Dillon could tell he wasn't handling this well at all. He figured it had more to do with talk of the night Ben died than anything else. Dillon's best bet was to get this over and done with so Jamie wouldn't have to deal with it any longer than necessary. He was in such a hurry he didn't notice that the edge of the jack was caught on the fabric lining of the trunk. With one smooth motion Dillon extricated the jack, the sound of ripping fabric alerting him, too late, to his mistake.

Jamie was staring at the ruined fabric, his brow furrowed. Dillon thought sure he'd upset him. "Jamie, I'm so sorry. I'll get it fixed. I'll--"

Jamie shook his head. "It's not that. Look." He pointed to a stack of what looked like papers stuffed against the side wall of the trunk, just inside where the lining should have started.

Dillon dropped the jack and the tangled fabric back into the trunk, reaching for the papers at almost the same time. Only they turned out not to be papers. They were photographs, instead.

Dillon took one look at the first one and his stomach turned. It was a picture of a man he'd never seen before doing unspeakable acts with a girl who looked to be no more than fourteen, fifteen tops. He shuffled through each picture, finding the same guy doing the same thing, only with a different girl in each picture. The guy's face was clearly visible, but Dillon didn't recognize him. He didn't realize he'd said the last part out loud, though, until he heard Jamie say, "I recognize him. I know exactly who he is."

Dillon took one look at Jamie's stricken face and knew what was coming, but he had to ask, anyway. "Who is he, baby?"

"He used to be Burke Carpenter. That is, before someone splattered him all over his front porch. I guess we know who Ben was blackmailing after all, huh? We just found Ben's second victim."

{To Be Continued}