Volume 1

Jonah took his oil stained Dickies jacket out of the locker and paused for a second. “Old Jonah”, when did this happen? Only forty-two and already “old?” He knew exactly when it happened, when Old Ray had a heart attack and was forced to retire, but still Ray was fifty-six, it wasn’t time for Jonah to be the old guy yet. At least he didn’t think so.
Jonah had worked for Brent County Towing & Repair since he was eighteen, and knew his way around a car, any car. There were a few obligatory territorial pissings when the boss hired his nephew, Luke, a business school drop out from the city, to replace Old Ray. But he was all right, a dedicated worker who learned quickly, so the majority of the tension didn’t last long. Jonah was never the type to start a fight, or perpetuate an argument anyway. And the day that Luke referred to him as “Old Jonah”; he let it slide. Let it slide so many times that it became habit. Jonah let it slide again with only a subtle sigh of protest as he closed his locker.

His boss had put the idea into his head. He remembered the day exactly, he was patching a flat on a Lexus, the polo shirted owner paced in front of the shop on his cell phone, had to be from out-of-town. Jonah’s boss came up behind him, and asked in an almost whisper if he thought there was something about “funny” about Luke.
“What do you mean funny?” Jonah had asked.
“You know, funny…” the shop owner replied.
“Nah, I ain’t noticed anything.” Jonah answered.
But this wasn’t entirely the truth. He knew exactly what his boss meant by funny, and he had noticed.
The more Jonah thought about it, Luke didn’t look gay, he didn’t act gay. Luke seemed like the type of guy who would have a subscription to Sports Illustrated just for the swimsuit issue. The type of guy who bought six packs for under-aged high school kids on the way to buy his own. In other words, Luke seemed straight. Jonah knew that these were just stereotypes, and prided himself on being a non-biased person. Christ, his own younger brother was gay. Their ignorant father in feeble attempts to sound somewhat accepting through humor would often joke that Jonah had taken all of the “man” out of him when he was conceived, and that must be why his other son was gay.
But then Jonah would take “the man” out of anyone in a line up. He was well over six feet, with a hard build and calloused body that comes with working with your hands all of your life. Everyone figured he was as about as soft as steel wool, but this had never been proven in a fight. Any pool stick jockey with a few too many Blue Ribbons in him would take one look at the tattoos that ran from the tops of his hands up to the spider web on his neck, and decide it was better to stay in their seat.
Still, something about Luke made him uncomfortable, and Jonah wondered if he was as truly unbiased as he thought he was. When Luke had asked him about his tattoos, Jonah was quick show him his wife’s name “Maria” tattooed cross his chest, and never mentioned the horseshoe on his ass.
Jonah punched his time card, and headed out through the office. It was almost sad seeing three time cards in the slot: his, Luke’s, and Old Ray’s. Old Ray’s would probably sit in there for the next years before anyone had the heart to throw it out.
The shop boss stopped him on the way out. “Jonah, can you help Luke out for a second?”
“I already punched out”.
“Two seconds, Jonah, it’ll take two seconds.”
Jonah reluctantly crammed his hands into his pockets and headed out behind the shop.
“What are you looking for?” he called to Luke.
“A timing belt.”
Jonah walked through the menagerie of wrecks and rusted out chassis.
“Old Jonah, huh?” he thought to himself. “That’s what you get for being twenty-two. Don’t even know what a timing belt looks like. There’s gotta be at least twelve back here.” He continued grumbling to himself until he found one and whistled over to Luke.
“Right here.” He said handing it to Luke.
“Thanks, man.” Luke took the belt, and headed back instead. Jonah walked over to the side of the building and urinated against the wall, like he had done a hundred times before, especially when he figured he’d get asked to do something after having already punched out. “Next Luke is going to want to know how to install the belt,” he thought to himself.
Jonah nearly lost his balance in surprise when he felt Luke’s hand on his shoulder.
“Hey man, it’s really cool of you to help me out. I know I don’t what I’m doing, or nothing, but shit, I really need this job…”
Although Luke’s eyes had remained level with Jonah’s, and not glanced down, Jonah couldn’t help but panic slightly. He looked down at his own cock in his hand, as if to see if it was truly still exposed. Luke noticed his uneasiness, and he stole a glance with a smile.
Jonah stuffed himself back into his pants and zipped up.
“It’s Ok.” Luke said as he leaned in and kissed Jonah on the cheek.
Jonah pushed passed him and climbed into his truck without looking back to see Luke’s reaction. He didn’t drive straight home, he couldn’t. He took every long way he knew, and every long way back, running over those simple ten seconds in his mind. Had he given Luke the wrong impression? What did he mean by “its ok?” What would he say to him tomorrow? Or the day after that?