~Streamed the game. Your teammates weren’t helping you out.
~We sucked.
~Doesn’t mean someone gets to tag your truck. Anyone else on the team get done?
~I don’t think so. I stayed late icing my leg.And hiding, which he didn’t have to admit.~They’re all gone. But I didn’t hear anyone yelling.
After a moment, Cross added,~That was a good block too, getting your leg in front of the shot.Like he thought Rusty needed more props, which was kind but unnecessary. And then,~I can loan you a car for a few days, if you have to leave your truck at the shop.
Rusty snorted.~Ha. No shop. I’m lucky if I have money for some turpentine.
~What can I do to fix this?
That was the downside to complaining to Cross. He didn’t seem to realize some shit couldn’t be fixed.~I don’t need anything. I just wanted to tell somebody. Wanted to bitch, I guess.
~You can bitch to me any time. Can you at least buy some cover up spray paint? Not that there’s anything wrong with pink. Hell, you could make the whole thing pink. Big FU to whoever did it.
Rusty gave that a moment of serious thought. He could text Tyler, “Thanks for the decorating suggestion.” Piss him off. But he’d blocked that new number, and any contact would probably just encourage him. And despite the temptation to park a pink truck next to Morty’s, provoking his teammates would probably end badly. He wondered if any of them had seen the damage and not bothered to come back in and tell him.
Probably not. He’d parked in the far corner on purpose.
He sent,~Not sure I want the attention.
~I get that. How about blue? Or better red. Might cover the pink easier. Might want to start with primer though. Then a top coat.
Rusty checked the weather app. Even if he could afford the paint, there was no point in wasting it.~It’s supposed to rain for the next six days. Maybe after.
~I have a big garage. Space to work.
He’d never been to Cross’s place. Scott had a cool condo in Portland with a view of the water. He’d been over there once, and remembered Cross saying he had a house. But Cross was a tidy guy, finicky even. Rusty had spray-painted a lot of shit around the farm in his day, and it was never a tidy process.~You can’t want me to get paint all over your garage.
~You can spend an hour helping get everything covered up first. Then yeah.
It was the idea of “helping” that made Rusty want to say yes. And hour or two with Cross, working side by side, sounded like a slice of heaven after how alone he’d felt all week.~Tomorrow? I have practice till 11. Neither of us has a game.Maybe he kept track of the Rafters schedule a bit closely, but then, he was a fan.
~Sure. Our practice is optional. 3 p.m?
Rusty stifled a grin. Hell, yes. Almost worth the pink paint.~I could do that.
~Let me buy the paint.
~I can afford some paint.Maybe. Probably. He’d have to go price it out.
~But it’ll take time. If I do that part in the morning you can get on the road quicker.
He was figuring out how to say no when Cross added,~You can pay me back. I’ll keep the receipt.
But will he buy the cheap stuff?Rusty paced in a circle. Cross had barely let him pay for a couple of Pepsis on their fake date, even though he’d driven all that way to help Rusty out, and for sure it should’ve been on Rusty’s dime. Yeah, Cross made, like, eight million bucks a year, so he could afford it, but Rusty was done being dependent. No one— not his parents, not Tyler, notCross— no one got to control what he did or who he loved by buying stuff. He steeled himself to say no, he’d shop for himself. Call it off if the paint was out of his budget.
Except it was late, the fog was turning to drizzle down his neck, and Cross sent,~Please? That way we can be done at a decent hour.
So was he being independent, or making things harder by being stubborn? Fuck if he could tell the difference anymore. He texted,~Yeah. OK. Black though and not too pricey?
~You got it.
~You’re sure?
Cross just replied,~See you at 3.
