25. Jordan

TWENTY-FIVE

I sneakworried looks at Blaise the whole way back to his place. This is a lot worse than I thought—for starters, what the fuck happened to his car that it can't be repaired?

Once we get inside, he sighs. "Will dinner keep a while longer? I want to take a shower."

"Go. It'll be fine." Normally I'd ask if he wants company, but now doesn't seem like the time. He dumps the bag of stuff from his car on the kitchen counter, then trudges off to the bathroom like he's going to his doom. Not good.

Yanking out my phone, I send a text to Reiner.

Jordan:

Can you ask your cousin what kind of car problem would be completely unrepairable?

While I'm waiting for a reply, I spot the card Blaise put next to the bag—it's got the name of a garage on it, as well as the phone number for some dude called Dave Purdy.

Jordan:

And ask if he knows anything about Dave Purdy from San Luco Automotive.

Maybe this Dave guy is trying to take Blaise for a ride. Though I'm not sure how he'd benefit from saying the car is unrepairable.

I putter around the kitchen, getting out dishes for our fried chicken and potatoes, opening a beer for Blaise—because this is definitely a beer kind of night—and my phone chimes with a text just as I hear the water go off.

Reiner:

Dude, what happened to your car?! Also, my cousin is Dave Purdy from SL Auto, so he knows everything about him.

Huh. Small world. Also, fuck. I might not know the guy, but Reiner thinks he's decent, so it doesn't seem likely he'd be ripping anyone off. There goes that hope.

Jordan:

Not mine, Blaise's. Your cousin said it's dead. Gotta go.

I put the handset down as Blaise comes out wearing boxers and an old T-shirt. He looks tired, but not physically. More like all the hope has been sucked out of him. Is this situation really all that bad? I mean, I know it's not good, but it's not the end of the world, either. He's still got his job, his talent, his home, and his prospects. And me. I'm not going to let anything shitty happen to him if I can help it.

"Come and eat," I suggest. Hunger probably isn't helping the situation.

He joins me at the counter, looks at his plate with a distinct lack of enthusiasm, then sighs and picks up a wing. We eat quietly for a few minutes before he wipes his fingers on a napkin and says, "I guess I'm not really hungry."

"Do you mind sitting with me while I eat?" Maybe if he does, he'll pick at his food some more. He hasn't had much, and I know how long it's been since his last break.

"Sure. I guess you want to know what happened."

"Only if you want to talk about it." That sounds more supportive than "Fuck yes, tell me everything right this second."

"My car broke down. I googled the nearest place that offered towing, and the guy came out, looked at it, and said it would cost more to repair than to buy a new car. Something about cracks in the engine because of overheating. Turns out, my regular mechanic's been taking my money and not servicing the car."

Hot outrage rises in me. "What? That asshole!"

Blaise shrugs. "Pretty much. But now I need to buy a new car."

"You can use mine," I offer immediately, and his brow furrows.

"What?"

"It's not like I need it all that much. The only reason I talked Uncle Luke into letting me drive it back after Christmas break is because Polly came with me, and we spent New Year's at a friend's place in Texas. A road trip was more fun than a bunch of expensive flights in holiday crowds."

"You still drive it," he points out.

"Mostly to get here, or to the mall. I live on campus and walk to all my classes anyway. It just means that I grab an Uber or whatever to come here."

"I can't make you pay to visit me because I have your car, Jordan."

"Then come and pick me up," I insist stubbornly. "Or you can hang out in the dorm with me sometimes. Nostalgia, and all that."

He smiles at me, but it's lacking its usual authenticity. "That's really sweet, but it's still only a short-term solution. If I'm going to go to LA for the internship, I need a car, and I can't take yours with me. Buying a car means using a chunk of my savings, and that means it's going to take a little longer before I can go. It's fine. Nothing's changed except the timeline, and honestly, I was ahead of the original one anyway. So… nothing's changed at all, when you think about it."

He's so clearly trying to be positive about this, but I'm still stuck on the fact that this is going to delay his internship. That hadn't occurred to me, which probably makes me a dumbass. On the one hand, a delay means he'll be here next year, with me, which isn't something I'm mad about. Buuuuut I want him to be happy. Blaise wants this internship. He wants to kickstart the rest of his life. So yeah, I'm mad about anything that's gonna get in his way.

"Let's think outside the box for a second," I suggest, then hesitate, desperately trying to come up with something. "Apply for the internship, use my car, and I'll bet we can find a way to get you a car for cheap before you have to leave."

"I need a car that won't break down, Jordan. And even cheap equals money."

"Yeah, but something will come up." I'm not giving up on this. "Franklin is full of rich kids who are about to graduate. I bet a whole bunch of them bought a car to use while they were here and are going to sell them in June before they leave." That happens, right? Sure, Uncle Luke would have literally murdered me if I suggested it—then resurrected me to lecture about fiscal responsibility and understanding the value of money—but I'm sure some of these trust fund babies have parents who don't care.

"Be serious," he chides, but at least he's smiling more genuinely now. "Cars aren't like sofas, Jordan. Nobody buys one for college and then leaves it behind when they graduate."

"They might." Mila might have been right when she screeched about how stubborn I am.

"No. They don't. Because unlike sofas, cars are mobile. People just drive them to their next destination."

Dammit. I hate that he's right. Though I still think it could be something that happens sometimes. "Okay, so maybe there isn't going to be a bunch of great cars being sold for cheap in June. That doesn't mean you should give up. Apply for the internship like you planned, borrow my car for as long as you need, and in the meantime, not only will we find the perfect car for you at the right price, we'll find the money to pay for it."

Every fiber of me is itching to offer him a loan. Not that I have thousands of dollars just lying around, but I know if I called Uncle Luke, he'd agree. He really likes Blaise. He likes that he's got a plan, that he's focused and determined, and especially that he likes me. But I know Blaise wouldn't take it, not even if we had a contract with repayment plans laid out. He'd just get mad if I offered. So I'm not going to offer.

Yet.

But I am going to encourage him to stay on track with his plans, and if it gets to crunch time and he's still short on cash, I'll talk him into it.

"Can we not talk about this anymore?" he asks. "I know you're trying to help, but right now it just makes me feel worse, because there really isn't a way to magic up the money. It's not the apocalypse, and the internship will still be there next year. I'll even be in a better position to take it, because I'll for sure have the money I need and more. I might be able to get a place in LA with less crappy roommates." He gives a fake little laugh. "So… it's all going to be fine. I'm disappointed and frustrated, sure, and looking for a new car wasn't on my to-do list for this year, but until this happened, I was having a great day, and I just want to… I don't know. I want to go back to the good part of the day."

"I like good things," I say affably, even though what I really want to do is hug him and pet him and croon that I'll fix everything. "Tell me about the great day you had."

He visibly shifts gears. "Well… you know how you think I make too big of a deal about clothes?"

I snort. "Yeah. You do." It was dinner with my dads, for crying out loud. Jeans would have been fine.

"I had a customer this morning whose ex-girlfriend thought the same thing. He disagreed, obviously, and so did the judge."

I put my fork down. "Judge?" This sounds interesting.

Blaise nods, grinning. "The one who awarded him ten grand in damages after she slashed his clothes to bits with a filleting knife."

"Oh my god, she did not!" That's the stuff of TV. "Do we know these people? Please tell me they go to Franklin."

He gives me a "get real" look. "No, they're both fortysomething real estate agents. I don't know them, and I'd be surprised if you did."

"That's kind of epic, though. Not that I'd ever do that," I hasten to add when his face changes. "I might think you care too much about me wearing jeans to a restaurant, but the way you are with clothes is one of the things that makes you so great."

The faint pink flush and soft look he gives me spur me to ask, "So… how much of the ten grand did he spend, and what did he get?" I might not care about suits and the difference between tie styles, but Blaise does, and watching him relax and begin to eat again as he lists off the clothes the guy bought is worth having to listen to it. Then my eyes bug out when he tells me what his commission will be from the sale. "Fuck, that is a great day!"

"That's not even all of it. You remember Halle Manx?"

"How could I forget? Me taking you to meet her was one of my best ideas," I say smugly. He opened for commissions last week and has already had to close again, because he's booked up for the year. I suggested he could quit the menswear store and take more cosplay commissions, because the per-hour rate is higher, and I think he might be considering it.

"Haha, yeah, you're the brains of this operation. Anyway, I sent her the making-of photos, and they inspired her."

"Was it my modeling that did it? She wants to write a book about me."

"Yeah, that's totally it," he says dryly. "But actually, kind of. Not the book part. She wants me to design costumes for some of the characters in the series so she can sell them."

It takes my brain a minute to process that. "That's fucking awesome!"

"Yeah. She said her agent would send me the contract to look over, but the terms we talked about were good."

"I looked her up, and she's got more than one series. Maybe once you do this one, she'll want you to do the others. Or she'll talk to her author friends. You'll have the money for a car in no time, babe." I smile brightly, determined to manifest this into reality. Blaise is going to get his dreams.