FILL - Turn Of A Screw, Brian/Justin, R (will most likely get NC-17), [Part 1b/?]
"Nice to meet you." Justin doesn't wait for an answer. He lets the beam of his flashlight slide over the engine, pokes here, prods there until he takes a step back. "If you don't mind me asking, how much have you paid for her?"
"Little under thirty grand." Brian cocks his head. "Why do you keep calling a car 'her'? Do you have a fetish?"
"Maybe, but this is a 1972 Chevrolet Corvette Stringray Coupe in Elkhart Green with, as far as I can tell, all of her original part, so... I pay her my respects."
"You really do know something about cars, huh?" Brian seems genuinely impressed, or just surprised. It's tough to make out.
"Told you." Justin beams at him.
"So what are you saying, have I been ripped off?"
"Oh no, not at all. I'd say you're the one who has done the ripping."
Brian frowns. "Meaning?"
"Meaning, that a car like that is easily worth a whole lot more if treated right. That being said, the original owner probably wasn't as enthusiastic about her that he should have been."
Brian motions him to elaborate.
"I'd have to take a closer look but... while there seem to be no major damages, she might be suffering from... a few symptoms of old age. Just minor things, really, but definitely something you would want to have fixed."
"So what are you suggesting?"
"Well," Justin stashes the flashlight in his pocket, "we'll keep her here for the day, run a full check on the engine, check for rust and leaks, and you can pick her up tomorrow. Bad as new."
A little mischievous smile edges on Brian's face. He reaches into his coat pocket for his wallet. He pulls out a business card and a folded up fifty dollar bill. He hands both to Justin. "I wouldn't mind if you made her your top priority. I need the car to charm a client." With that, he turns on his heel, and while he leaves, he takes out his cell phone, calls a guy named Ted and tells him to send him a car.
Justin can hardly tear his eyes off the man as he saunters out front. A guy like that in a car like this... every boy's wet dream. Well, at least his, for that matter. He stashes the money into his pocket, then looks at the business card. And he freezes.
In sans-serif font on bone white paper it reads: "Brian Kinney. KINNETIK. Advertising" Below is the address and a phone number.
"Holy shit." Justin's gaze alters from the card to Brian who is still on the phone. Then he turns and heads for a bleached poster hanging from the wall over one of the work benches.
It's one of Justin's favorites, mostly because of the half-naked guy on it. But also because of the catchy, somewhat naughty message printed under the Dandy Lube logo. But that's not what he is looking for now. He scans the poster for the copyright notice. In the bottom corner, he spots it. "This advertisement is created by KINNETIK Advertising."
Again, Justin looks out front where Brian just gets into a black limo. "Holy shit," he repeats.
"What did I tell about cussing at the workplace?" Charlie emerges from the office. The older man whistles as he sees the car. "And who does this beauty belong to?"
Justin is still halfway between transfixed and catatonic. Then he blinks and focuses on his boss. "The face of god."
no subject
"Nice to meet you." Justin doesn't wait for an answer. He lets the beam of his flashlight slide over the engine, pokes here, prods there until he takes a step back. "If you don't mind me asking, how much have you paid for her?"
"Little under thirty grand." Brian cocks his head. "Why do you keep calling a car 'her'? Do you have a fetish?"
"Maybe, but this is a 1972 Chevrolet Corvette Stringray Coupe in Elkhart Green with, as far as I can tell, all of her original part, so... I pay her my respects."
"You really do know something about cars, huh?" Brian seems genuinely impressed, or just surprised. It's tough to make out.
"Told you." Justin beams at him.
"So what are you saying, have I been ripped off?"
"Oh no, not at all. I'd say you're the one who has done the ripping."
Brian frowns. "Meaning?"
"Meaning, that a car like that is easily worth a whole lot more if treated right. That being said, the original owner probably wasn't as enthusiastic about her that he should have been."
Brian motions him to elaborate.
"I'd have to take a closer look but... while there seem to be no major damages, she might be suffering from... a few symptoms of old age. Just minor things, really, but definitely something you would want to have fixed."
"So what are you suggesting?"
"Well," Justin stashes the flashlight in his pocket, "we'll keep her here for the day, run a full check on the engine, check for rust and leaks, and you can pick her up tomorrow. Bad as new."
A little mischievous smile edges on Brian's face. He reaches into his coat pocket for his wallet. He pulls out a business card and a folded up fifty dollar bill. He hands both to Justin. "I wouldn't mind if you made her your top priority. I need the car to charm a client." With that, he turns on his heel, and while he leaves, he takes out his cell phone, calls a guy named Ted and tells him to send him a car.
Justin can hardly tear his eyes off the man as he saunters out front. A guy like that in a car like this... every boy's wet dream. Well, at least his, for that matter. He stashes the money into his pocket, then looks at the business card. And he freezes.
In sans-serif font on bone white paper it reads: "Brian Kinney. KINNETIK. Advertising" Below is the address and a phone number.
"Holy shit." Justin's gaze alters from the card to Brian who is still on the phone. Then he turns and heads for a bleached poster hanging from the wall over one of the work benches.
It's one of Justin's favorites, mostly because of the half-naked guy on it. But also because of the catchy, somewhat naughty message printed under the Dandy Lube logo. But that's not what he is looking for now. He scans the poster for the copyright notice. In the bottom corner, he spots it. "This advertisement is created by KINNETIK Advertising."
Again, Justin looks out front where Brian just gets into a black limo. "Holy shit," he repeats.
"What did I tell about cussing at the workplace?" Charlie emerges from the office. The older man whistles as he sees the car. "And who does this beauty belong to?"
Justin is still halfway between transfixed and catatonic. Then he blinks and focuses on his boss. "The face of god."