Exotic

~ no stone unturned ~

The garage was loud with activity, bustling with grizzled men and scrawny apprentices with patchy facial hair. Aaron and I, pristine in our pale school uniforms, stuck out like sore thumbs. We were gawked at as we wandered somewhat aimlessly through the warehouse, eyes peeled for Reece or Caleb. I didn't know who I'd prefer to glimpse first.

It was a stark contrast to the quiet, awkward but not entirely unpleasant, morning Reece and I had shared not long ago working on the car in solitude. I could see it parked in the corner, hidden poorly under a blue tarpaulin. Now, every clang of a tool or purr of an engine made me tense. There was a heavy scent of sweat and oil in the air, making my head spin. I was also, on a more pedantic note, concerned for my pores.

"I don't think he's here," Aaron did a 360 turn on his heel and narrowly avoided a low-hanging bar, ducking under it at the last second.

"Which one?"

"Either of them," he scanned the overall-clad bodies hunched over cars. "Although there is a certain uniformity to mechanics. I might have overlooked Reece. But Caleb isn't here."

He wasn't, yet. I would have spotted him the second I'd walked in if he was. Which either meant we'd beaten him, or we'd guess the wrong destination. Maybe he was currently getting a billboard commissioned with a picture of Sephora next to my school headshot. All bets were off.

"Bloody death trap," Aaron was muttering, picking his way through the layers of cords on the floor.

Before I could suggest we cut our losses and ask Aaron to drive me to the nearest airport, I heard someone called out my name. The booming voice sent my shoulders shooting to my ears and my head bowed self-consciously. It wasn't Reece, who rarely raised his voice and never would have presumed to follow it with, "Son! That you?"

I bristled all the same. I counted down mentally to the hand that clapped my shoulder and squeezed as if to test the give of my collarbone. One of Reece's drinking buddies, Paul or Dave or Kyle I couldn't tell, grinned down at me with a mouthful of off-white teeth. He wore a gold chain and had a thicket of black chest hair emerging from the V of his coveralls. It was so long that it had begun to coil into Shirley Temple ringlets. He was a head taller than me, which was maybe why I first took notice of his chest hair – it was at eye level when I turned.

"Hi," I managed, dragging my eyes up to his sun-blotched face and beady eyes. "... Paul?"

"Dave," he corrected, but he didn't look insulted. "What're you doing here, son? Shouldn't you be in school?"

His tone was teasing, not at all concerned. I extracted myself from his grip on my shoulder and stepped back until my shoulder was flush with Aaron's before I could bring myself smile back. "We got early leave. For study. Exams. You know."

"Ah, and I see you're both putting that time to good use," his smirk belonged to a much younger person. "Looking for your dad?"

I nodded mutely, but before Dave could respond someone yelled out his name, bookended by profanities, and he turned to respond with a string of his own curses and slurs. I felt Aaron cringe beside me and remembered he hadn't had the exposure to the garage environment that I had. If we'd been anywhere else, I would have squeezed his hand to reassure him. Somehow, I suspected doing it in front of Dave would render even more unhelpful than he was already being.

"Oi! No swearing in the shop!" Another voice joined the fray. I glanced up to Aaron, and jerked my head to the door, indicating we'd outstayed our welcome. Caleb wasn't here.

As I turned to leave, the same voice that had reprimanded Dave for swearing held me up with a call of my name. A car bonnet was dropped, and I jerked in surprise. The guy who'd spoken was familiar in the way a cashier at a local supermarket was - only in passing. But he had kind eyes and looked older, wearier, less angry at the world than most of Reece's friends. He had a bushy silver beard and heavy brow, dark hands wringing out a towel before pressing it to his sweaty chest.