Copyright 2103 JC Wallace
I recently joined a flash fiction writing group - thanks Julie Lynn Hayes for the invite! Each Wednesday participating authors write 500-1000 words based on prompts received each week. Here is my first installment of what will become a weekly series. Make sure to check out the other authors listed at the end.Prompt I used: a character who feels like he's getting ill
Week #1
Owen McIntyre signed heavily, trailing behind his cousin Wayne as he perused rows of testosterone-ridden muscle cars. How he'd come to be at the car show was beyond him. Wayne had nixed Owen’s plans for reworking his problematic gaming code, and unceremoniously told Owen to get his pasty, white, glow-in-the-dark ass out into the sunshine. Owen, who’d never won an argument with his older cousin, was now at the last place on earth he wanted to be on a Saturday.
Wayne stopped in front of a shiny, red car with gleaming chrome bumpers and four round headlights. Attached to the black grill was a chrome horse. The hood was propped open to display the massive engine. A large sign next to the car announced its make and model as a “1969 Ford Mustang Mach 1 428 Cobra Jet.” Whatever that is. Listed beneath that was what looked to be a list of awards. Owen might have been impressed if he knew what the accolades meant.
Cars weren’t anywhere on the list of what Owen cared about or understood. He didn’t even have a driver’s license. At sixteen, more pressing matters had stolen his attention. Confessing to others, that at twenty-seven, he lacked a license tended to garner looks ranging from comical to horrified.
Owen turned his attention to the crowd, wondering how long he’d have to endure this particular version of hell. Behind him, Wayne was talking with someone.
“Turk, the car’s looking better than ever.” Owen heard the slap of hands. Probably doing the straight man’s hug.
“Yeah, she is. Got best of show last week. The hard work is paying off.”
“Nice. Hey, I want you to meet my cousin, Owen.”
Owen turned to meet the man so they could move on. Tall was an understatement, probably a good five inches over Owen’s 5 feet 7 inches, and wide. The crystal blue eyes reached out and grabbed Owen. A neatly trimmed black beard covered the man’s squared jaw. The slight crook to his nose attested to being broken at one point. A bright flash of white teeth and Owen saw two deep dimples on his cheeks despite the beard. His hair was a wavy mass of shiny brownish-black in the sunlight. Owen swallowed hard. Why did he always drool over the bears?
Turk held out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Owen.”
Owen extended his hand, mesmerized by those eyes. “You too, Turk.” He quickly averted his gaze.
“So what do you think of the car? Pretty sweet, right? It has a 428/335 HP Cobra Jet Ram Air engine, 3-speed automatic transmission, which is the—”
“Turk,” Wayne interrupted. “Unless it has a computer in it you’re wasting your breath.”
Owen was sure he saw a look of disappointment in the Turk’s face. “So, you’re into newer metal. Nothing wrong with that.”
Wayne shook his head. “No, man. A real computer. Owen doesn’t even have a driver’s license.”
The heat crept into Owen’s face. Damn, Wayne and his mouth.
Turk’s eyebrows rose. “Really. Is there a reason you can’t drive?”
Not anymore. “No. I just never learned.”
Turk licked at his lips and Owen followed the pink tongue on its journey around those red lips. Turk gave him a lopsided grin. “I could teach you how to drive.”
It was Owen’s turn to raise his eyebrows. Owen’s breath caught at the thought of learning to drive Turk. Lean the muscle car fanatic over the hood of his car and drive in deep and hard. Fuck. “Um, I don’t really need a license. No car.”
Turk grinned. “Well, come and sit in my baby. See what you think.”
His baby?
Owen sputtered as Turk grasped his elbow and led him to the driver’s door. The firm grip went far to solidify Owen's erection. Before he could protest, Owen was in the driver’s seat. Turk came around and settled into the passenger side, that wide grin still splitting his face. In the heated confines of the car, the scent of the leather seats combined with something musky, something manly. Turk explained aspects of the interior and his restoration but Owen focus was on the brush of their shoulders and Turk’s closeness as he reached across Owen. Closing his eyes, Owen prayed for the strength to stop himself from reaching out, grabbing Turk’s head, and stuffing the man’s face into his lap.
A tickle in Owen’s throat and the resulting spasms of coughs racking his chest cut that fantasy short. Damn, his cough sounded wet. A hand settled on his arm.
“You need some water?” Turk asked.
Wayne stopped in front of a shiny, red car with gleaming chrome bumpers and four round headlights. Attached to the black grill was a chrome horse. The hood was propped open to display the massive engine. A large sign next to the car announced its make and model as a “1969 Ford Mustang Mach 1 428 Cobra Jet.” Whatever that is. Listed beneath that was what looked to be a list of awards. Owen might have been impressed if he knew what the accolades meant.
Cars weren’t anywhere on the list of what Owen cared about or understood. He didn’t even have a driver’s license. At sixteen, more pressing matters had stolen his attention. Confessing to others, that at twenty-seven, he lacked a license tended to garner looks ranging from comical to horrified.
Owen turned his attention to the crowd, wondering how long he’d have to endure this particular version of hell. Behind him, Wayne was talking with someone.
“Turk, the car’s looking better than ever.” Owen heard the slap of hands. Probably doing the straight man’s hug.
“Yeah, she is. Got best of show last week. The hard work is paying off.”
“Nice. Hey, I want you to meet my cousin, Owen.”
Owen turned to meet the man so they could move on. Tall was an understatement, probably a good five inches over Owen’s 5 feet 7 inches, and wide. The crystal blue eyes reached out and grabbed Owen. A neatly trimmed black beard covered the man’s squared jaw. The slight crook to his nose attested to being broken at one point. A bright flash of white teeth and Owen saw two deep dimples on his cheeks despite the beard. His hair was a wavy mass of shiny brownish-black in the sunlight. Owen swallowed hard. Why did he always drool over the bears?
Turk held out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Owen.”
Owen extended his hand, mesmerized by those eyes. “You too, Turk.” He quickly averted his gaze.
“So what do you think of the car? Pretty sweet, right? It has a 428/335 HP Cobra Jet Ram Air engine, 3-speed automatic transmission, which is the—”
“Turk,” Wayne interrupted. “Unless it has a computer in it you’re wasting your breath.”
Owen was sure he saw a look of disappointment in the Turk’s face. “So, you’re into newer metal. Nothing wrong with that.”
Wayne shook his head. “No, man. A real computer. Owen doesn’t even have a driver’s license.”
The heat crept into Owen’s face. Damn, Wayne and his mouth.
Turk’s eyebrows rose. “Really. Is there a reason you can’t drive?”
Not anymore. “No. I just never learned.”
Turk licked at his lips and Owen followed the pink tongue on its journey around those red lips. Turk gave him a lopsided grin. “I could teach you how to drive.”
It was Owen’s turn to raise his eyebrows. Owen’s breath caught at the thought of learning to drive Turk. Lean the muscle car fanatic over the hood of his car and drive in deep and hard. Fuck. “Um, I don’t really need a license. No car.”
Turk grinned. “Well, come and sit in my baby. See what you think.”
His baby?
Owen sputtered as Turk grasped his elbow and led him to the driver’s door. The firm grip went far to solidify Owen's erection. Before he could protest, Owen was in the driver’s seat. Turk came around and settled into the passenger side, that wide grin still splitting his face. In the heated confines of the car, the scent of the leather seats combined with something musky, something manly. Turk explained aspects of the interior and his restoration but Owen focus was on the brush of their shoulders and Turk’s closeness as he reached across Owen. Closing his eyes, Owen prayed for the strength to stop himself from reaching out, grabbing Turk’s head, and stuffing the man’s face into his lap.
A tickle in Owen’s throat and the resulting spasms of coughs racking his chest cut that fantasy short. Damn, his cough sounded wet. A hand settled on his arm.
“You need some water?” Turk asked.
Owen managed a shake of his head. His eyes watered as he struggled to stop the onslaught before—shit. Too late. Wayne’s head snapped around, and his wide brown eyes filled with concern.
Wayne came around and wrenched Owen’s door open. “Come on, Owen. We got to go.”
Owen stepped out of the car and shook his head. “I’m fine, Wayne,” he whispered.
Wayne ignored his statement and looked past him to Turk who’d exited the car. “Hey, man, we got to get going.”
Turk grimaced and seemed to be contemplating something, then with a partial smile approached Owen. “It was really nice to meet you.” Again, Turk extended his hand and Owen slid their palms together. A thumb brushed over the back of Owen’s hand and a coy smile flipped his stomach. “You hanging around Addison for a while?”
Owen nodded, distracted by the caressing thumb.
“Hope to see you again real soon.” Turk released his hand and Owen nodded again.
Wayne came around and wrenched Owen’s door open. “Come on, Owen. We got to go.”
Owen stepped out of the car and shook his head. “I’m fine, Wayne,” he whispered.
Wayne ignored his statement and looked past him to Turk who’d exited the car. “Hey, man, we got to get going.”
Turk grimaced and seemed to be contemplating something, then with a partial smile approached Owen. “It was really nice to meet you.” Again, Turk extended his hand and Owen slid their palms together. A thumb brushed over the back of Owen’s hand and a coy smile flipped his stomach. “You hanging around Addison for a while?”
Owen nodded, distracted by the caressing thumb.
“Hope to see you again real soon.” Turk released his hand and Owen nodded again.
“Let’s go.” Wayne waved to Turk, then moved into the crowd. Owen followed and Wayne gave him a sideways glance. “What the hell was that all about?”
That was exactly what Owen wanted to know. He glanced over his shoulder. The heated gaze from Turk told Owen he’d be seeing the bear very soon. Damn, if he wasn’t starting to like muscle cars,
Check out the other authors flashing this week:
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