CSR 145 - The Car that Howled Like a Wolf Life was normal for Ze'ev Wulfrith, a mid 20 something artistic type scraping by in one of the population centers of the Midwestern United States. At least his life had been normal until about 4 months ago. Just before the summer heat had started bearing down on him and causing Ze'ev to be despondent, he received a letter. Yes, an actual letter in this digital age, which surprised him greatly. The contents of the letter shocked him further. He apparently was the heir apparent to the vast K fortune. The only stipulation for claiming access to the K fortune was that he would need to relocate to Moose county and stay a resident there for the next 5 years. He would then be in full control over the estate and could either stay or move on to wherever he chose. The letter concluded with the address and phone number of an H.B.B. & A. law firm, instructing Ze'ev to call them at his earliest convenience. Ze'ev's astonishment at the contents of the letter was broken by a paw hitting the top left corner of the page and an insistent "meh". Freya, a smoke grey Norwegian Forest cat with soft, lilac blue eyes, was impatiently trying to tell him that her dinner was overdue. He put the letter back in its envelope and followed after her soft footsteps into the kitchen. After giving her a slightly larger than usual helping of kibibbles(a puffed rice and chicken treat that he'd found on a food blog a while back that was too bland for him but Freya seemed to love), he plopped down into the comfy yet drab chair at his desk. "I can think about that letter later," he mumbled to himself, "Right now I have some designs to finish before this Tuesday. This collection won't design itself." Before he could fully set himself to designing this next fall collection however, a ball of grey fluff descended into the desk before him, right where he usually had his sketchbook. Freya had decided that no more work on the collection would be done that night and that his workspace was a great place to take a bath. "Fine. It's not like I had any inspiration anyway," Ze'ev huffed, rolling the chair back from the desk. He started into his nighttime routine, taking his long auburn hair out of the ponytail it was perpetually in during the day, surveying his slightly too husky body in the mirror while brushing his teeth, and finally shrugging into well worn waffle knit henley and flannel pants that were his perpetual night clothes. Before he could collapse into the warmth of his bed though, he heard the distinct noise of paper hitting the hardwood floor of his work area. Ze'ev knew he better put whatever had been pilfered back before it could become the subject of Freya's own artistic pursuits. He was surprised to see that it was the Moose County letter that had been pushed off his desk and not one of his sets of designs. Freya sat on the desk, her lilac eyes boring into him as he put the letter up into a more secure nook of his desk. With an emphatic "merp", she jumped down from the desk and trotted towards Ze'ev's bedroom, fluffy trail waving triumphantly. She'd made her point and Ze'ev settled into bed with the conviction to respond to the letter the next day. It took until Tuesday and the deadline of his preliminary fashion designs passing for Ze'ev to respond to the letter. He had intended on getting to it sooner, but as with most creatives, he had other projects that he had procrastinated on taking up his time. When he did get around to calling H.B.B. & A, the conversation went something like this: Ze'ev: "Hello, I'm calling about a letter I received from your offices a couple days ago? Is everything that it said true? That I only have to live there for what seems like a relatively short time and then I have full claim over the money?" G. Alan Barter, the attorney currently in charge of the K estate and one of the B's in H.B.B. & A: "Yes that's correct. If you'd like, you could come up here and have a meeting with myself and all other parties involved to help convince you. Just think of it as a small vacation to the north country." Ze'ev: "That sounds doable, I'll have to arrange for some time off from work and let my parents know where I'll be headed though. I should be able to swing getting there this coming weekend if that's ok?" Barter:"That's plenty ok. I'll get you the address and let Mr. Q know to be expecting you." A quick exchange of relevant travel information ensued, addresses, car descriptions, etc, and the phone call concluded. Ze'ev was slightly puzzled. The mention of a Mr. Q had tripped something somewhere in his memory, but he couldn't pinpoint where. He spent the rest of the week trying to figure out what exactly it was, but to no avail. He was sure he had heard that name before. The preparations to head up to Moose County for the meeting went surprisingly smooth, his parents barely batting an eye. It would be good for him to get out of the house, they said. Friday morning arrived quickly and it was finally time to try and get Freya into her travel basket. This was usually a trial of splayed legs and claws dug into furniture, but she was surprisingly calm and was bundled into the carrier with minimal protest. Ze'ev loaded her and his antique leather suitcase of weekend clothes into the back seat of his '86 Midlands Eos and set off on his way, settling in for the roughly 6 hour drive ahead of him. Moose County was said to be "400 miles north of everywhere", which happened to be literal in Ze'ev's case. The smooth thrum of the 4 liter V8 almost lulled him back towards sleep as he drove, but the rising sun kept him alert as he sped northward. It was early afternoon before Ze'ev reached the Moose County line and soon he found himself approaching his destination. Pickaxe, the county seat, was around the size off his own hometown, with a population of roughly 3500. Unlike his hometown, there was no bigger city within quick driving distance. The nearest big city to Pickaxe was at least an hour's drive south and that was what gave Ze'ev pause as he neared the town's center. He would be in small town life to the extreme here, so caution about blabbing about himself would be paramount. He drove down main street, conscious of the odd looks his slightly too loud and unfamiliar car was getting. "Yup, definitely made an impression too soon," he mumbled to himself. Freya made a small merp from the back seat in agreement. Their destination finally loomed into view. The Edwardian architecture of downtown Pickaxe had been impressive to Ze'ev, but the edifice before him was even more stunning. The house equivalent of a Rolls Royce was in front of him, elegant, brutally upright, and full of 1890's intensity. It also took up the width of 2 normal lots and had a pleasant yet huge front yard, trees casting calico patches of shade over the grass and evergreen shrubs lining the side drive, which Ze'ev turned down, marveling up at the grandeur of the building. He found the cobblestone courtyard in the rear which was used for parking. Two cars were already parked there, a sensible green sedan that was maybe 6 or so years old and probably Japanese, and a rougher looking grey work truck that had obviously been on this earth a very long time. Ze'ev pulled into the space beside the sedan, reassuring Freya that he'd be back out to get her once he'd figured out where their accommodations were inside. He got out and slowly crossed the courtyard to the back door of the K mansion, nerves kicking into high gear. He cautiously knocked and was surprised that the door swung inward under the pressure of his fist. He guessed Mr. Q had left it unlocked for him, though he hadn't expected it to be unlatched, and he definitely hadn't expected his knocking to almost push the door into the man standing just inside. Ze'ev was greeted with the broad, athletically built back of a man so tall he had to tilt his head back to see the back of the man's head. The man spun around, feeling the draft from the open door on his back and Ze'ev got his first true look at this blonde giant. "Uhh…are you Mr. Q?", Ze'ev stammered, struggling with both embarrassment and feeling a blush starting across his cheeks. Damn this man was handsome. Handsome in that home grown sort of way, light blonde hair, dusky green eyes, and the sort of smile that would make girls drool. He was at least a foot taller than Ze'ev's 5'8" frame, making it hard to keep eye contact. "Na, I'm Derek. I bet you're that Ze'ev that Mr. Q was waiting for though." Derek chuckled, his eyes glittering and making Ze'ev feel even warmer than he already was, "He's just in his study over there. Two doors down on the left, can't miss it. Now if you'll excuse me I've got to get to my shift." Ze'ev hastily slid to the side, "Ah, yes…thanks," he said more quietly than he had intended. Derek slid past him through the doorway, a bit too close for comfort and he was glad his face wasn't visible as his cheeks reddened even further. He needed to control himself better. He didn't know these people and how they'd react to that part of him. As he stepped fully inside and shut the door, he heard the rumble of what was presumably Derek's truck leaving the courtyard. He also saw the tip of a brown tail disappearing into the room that Derek had said he'd find Mr. Q. Walking down the hall he noticed the sharp contrast of the interior decorating compared to the mansion's architecture. Comfortable, practical pieces were mixed with mid century modern within the high ceilings of the rooms, not quite to Ze'ev's taste but it did look good. Rounding the corner into the study, he got his first glimpse of Mr. Q. James Mackintosh Qwilleran, a well built man in his mid 50's, was at his desk in the study, facing away from the door. The clack of an electric typewriter filed the study, punctuated by occasional mutterings. Ze'ev had gone unnoticed for about 15 seconds before a sharp yowl came from the cat sitting on the shelf of the desk, a Siamese with piercing blue eyes that was obviously the source of the brown tail from earlier. Qwillleran stroked the cat just behind its ears, "what's the matter old boy? Seeing ghosts again?" He then spun in his chair to face the way the cat was looking and his brooding eyes fell on Ze'ev. "Mr. Wulfrith, I'm assuming?" Qwillleran said, his mellifluous voice filling the study a bit louder than Ze'ev had been expecting, causing him to jump. "Er… yes, that's right. A guy called Derek let me in and said I'd find you in here." Ze'ev's nerves were starting to get to him. "You are Mr. Qwillleran, right?" Qwillleran let out a small chuckle, his thick mustache quivering, "Yes, you're right. And please, call me Qwill. Bart should be here fairly soon and then we can get to discussing that letter he sent you. Make yourself comfortable. Anything I can get you to drink?" "Just water, thanks," Ze'ev said, collapsing into an overstuffed sofa, "and you can call me Z. It's much less of a mouthful than Wulfrith." Qwill stood up from his desk and crossed to the hallway, "I'm having some Squnkwater myself. Care to try some?" "Squnkwater? What's that? I've never heard of it?" "It's a local mineral water from a place called Squnk corners," Qwill explained, "I usually spice mine up with a splash of cranberry juice." "Sounds tasty, I'll have that then," Z said, distracted by the Siamese that had made its way over to the arm of his chair."What's this handsome boy's name?" "That's Koko. If he's giving you trouble I can put him back up in his room." "Nah, he's ok." A sudden realization had dawned on Ze'ev as he had started petting Koko's head,"Shit. What room am I staying in? I need to bring Freya in from my car. Poor thing must be roasting in there by now." "Second door on your right after you reach the top of the stairs," Qwill boomed from the kitchen. Z hurriedly extricated himself from the chair and rushed out to his car. He could already hear the indignant meows before he got the door open and quickly gathered both Freya and his suitcase from the back seat. Heading back inside, he easily found the stairs and then the room Qwill had described. He plunked Freya's carrier down on the bed and barely had the lid open before she burst out of it. He tried to to catch and soothe her, but she evaded his grasp and settled on one of the bed's pillows. She was pissed at him and rightly so. Z left her to fume, carefully closing the door to make sure she couldn't try to roam the mansion, and headed back down to the study, where he found not only Mr. Q, who had finished getting his and Ze'ev's glasses of Squnkwater, but also a man who he assumed must be G. Alan Barter. Bart was much younger than Qwillleran, around his mid 30's or so, and much closer to Ze'ev's height as well, with spiky black hair and strikingly pale skin. He was also wearing a dress shirt and slacks, and as Z's gaze drifted over Qwill as he was handed his drink, he was distinctly aware how underdressed he was in his black cargo pants, t-shirt, and hoodie. This hadn't seemed to phrase Bart or Mr Q as the discussion of the letter and Ze'ev's status as the heir to the K fortune commenced. Most of his concerns were addressed. Yes, he did only have to stay in Pickaxe for 5 years. No, there weren't any other complications than that, though he may be called upon for some public events due to becoming a fairly prominent member in the community. The biggest shock to Z's system was the allowance he had to live on. Roughly 2k a week, as well as the ability to have special purchases approved by Mr. Q or the K fund directly. Some quick mental math showed him that this was at least double what he made at his current job, and with the ability to make approved bigger purchases occasionally, this felt like a once in a lifetime opportunity. There was still one question Z had that hadn't been answered yet. "But why me? You could've picked someone closer to here, someone like Derek for instance. Why am I the one you've picked to be your heir?" Qwill began to chuckle, "Someone from around here wouldn't work. They'd already know what the K fund is like and would try to horde it for themselves. We need someone with an outside perspective, like I had when I first arrived here from down below. I consider myself a decent judge of character, and I think that someone who would actively cut their profit margins down and make use of local industries to support their business has enough sense to be a fitting heir. In fact, that seems like just the sort of enterprise the K fund would back." Suddenly it all came back to Ze'ev as to where he'd seen Qwilleran before. At one of the lectures he'd gone to in college on historical textiles and the industrial revolution, he'd sat in one of the middle rows close to the left hand aisle in the spot he usually did for classes. The two seats to the left of him had been marked reserved, which felt slightly odd. Slightly before the lecture started, a man who Z now knew to be Qwilleran had sat down in one of those seats and started up a light conversation about what the lecture was going to be about and to get a male student's perspective on it. It had been rather disarming at the time for someone he didn't know show interest in his opinions, but Ze'ev grew comfortable as they talked and blabbered on about how he wanted to run his own fashion brand someday and how he was hoping to cut back on profit margin to bring luxury quality clothes to his consumers at more reasonable prices. Stuff that would last and make use of the wool industry around his hometown. The realization that this chance meeting and conversation had prompted Qwill to choose him to be his heir had Ze'ev both shocked and on the verge of tears. His emotions must've been rolling off him in waves because Qwill's cat jumped up onto Z's lap and started kneading his chest, purring heartily. "See! Even Koko approves of you!" Qwillleran boomed, trying to diffuse the situation and put Ze'ev at ease,"We've given you a lot to think about. How about a change of scenery and dinner at Tipsy's? My treat." Ze'ev looked sheepishly at the nicer clothes the other two men were wearing, "I don't need to change into something nicer do I?" This time it was Bart who burst out laughing, "For Tipsy's Tavern? If anything we'll be the ones overdressed and out of place. I guess we'll be taking your car Qwill?" They all got up and headed towards the back door, Ze'ev dashing upstairs quickly to let Freya out of their room to carouse with Qwill's cats. Pilling into the back of the green sedan, which Ze'ev now identified as a Suisei, he worked on calming his nerves and emotions about the whole situation down. The gentle grandeur of Pickaxe rolling by helped take his mind off of things and he was surprised at just how interesting the town and surrounding countryside was. Gentle rolling fields gave way to lush forests, which Qwill explained were part of a K fund backed conservancy, and the roads that cut through them were surprisingly smooth compared to what Z had expected. The lack of the trappings of middle-class America also surprised him. He knew this area was fairly rural, but he had expected the menace of strip malls and fast food to have reached here long ago. Instead there were the obligatory gas stations with smaller shops and eateries alongside them that appeared family owned. Though this wasn't as much like his hometown, Z was beginning to think that he could enjoy himself here. They finally arrived at Tipsy's, which was in a slightly more built up area then they had been traveling through. Walking in the front door with a small tinkling of bells overhead, Ze'ev was surprised to see the tall drink of water that was Derek behind the front desk. Apparently this is what he meant when he said he had to leave for his shift. Derek recognized Mr. Q and Bart first, then smiled disarmingly at Z before showing them all to a table. They ordered and then settled into a jovial conversation about Qwill's upcoming newspaper column, his apple barn burning down which forced him to move back into the K mansion, about Bart's family and basically everything else needed to catch Ze'ev up to speed on the gossip going through Moose County at the moment. Z was only partially focusing on what they were saying, however. He was distracted by the meatloaf he had ordered, which as he had expected was roughly the size of his face and dripping with homemade goodness. He was also distracted by a guy who looked roughly his age sitting by himself at a booth just off to the left of their table. He had shoulder length, dusty blonde hair that was pulled back so it wouldn't interfere with the burger he was eating, lightly rimmed glasses, and stormy blue eyes that glinted at Z from across the room. He was wearing a pair of well worn doc martens, an even more worn pair of dark blue jeans, and a leather jacket that hugged his shoulders nicely, making them look even wider. He also seemed to be wearing a faded Martini Racing t-shirt under the jacket, though Z couldn't risk more than the occasional glance over at the man for fear of him noticing and more heat than usual coming to Z's cheeks. When Derek came by again to refill the table's drinks, Ze'ev gently nudged him and whispered, "Do you know who that guy in the leather jacket and glasses is over there? He seems pretty cool." Derek responded a bit louder than Z had hoped, but the man didn't seem to notice, "Oh that's Storm Breedlove. He's one of the main mechanics at Gipple's Garage back in Pickaxe. Want me to see if he'd want to come over and join you guys?" Ze'ev went beet red in the face and backpedaled furiously,"no no no. That's all right. I was just curious who he was and all. No need to disturb him. Derek noticed what was so plainly written across Z's face and gave him a conspiratorial wink, "He's usually at the garage most days from about 10 am to 5, if you ever want to run into him again." He casually walked back towards the kitchen with their old drink glasses and Ze'ev's attention turned back to Bart and Qwillleran, who had stopped their banter rather abruptly. "What was that all about? Your face lit up like a slight just then," Bart asked, taking a sip of the coke Derek had just refilled for him. "Oh nothing, just trying to confirm if I had recognized someone correctly. Turns out I was wrong," Z replied, trying to not be too defensive. Qwillleran and Bart exchanged looks and went back to their gossip filled explanations of how things in Moose County worked. Ze'ev was glad that the situation seemed adequately diffused and offered up explanations of how he wanted his fashion brand to go to further push that interaction into the background. As they finished up their desserts and were getting ready to leave, Z chanced another look at the booth. Storm has apparently left sometime during their discussion since a group of teenage girls were tittering over Derek as he took their orders. He noticed Z looking his way and gave him another small smile and wink. Z quickly squashed the heat that started up in his cheeks again at that. Derek was attractive to be sure, but that Storm guy was on another level. He followed Qwill and Bart back out to Qwill's green Suisei and then drove back to Pickaxe in relative quiet, the sunset keeping Z's attention out the window. As they pulled into the courtyard behind the K mansion, Qwill asked Bart if he wanted to come in for a night cap, which Bart quickly declined, saying he needed to get back before his wife wondered why he'd been out so long. They all said goodbye and then Bart left in his much, much newer Kaizen. Ze'ev and Qwillleran we're shocked to see the state of the back hall and study when they got inside. Every drawer in the hall table was open, as were the lower cabinets in kitchen. Ze'ev was surprised to see what looked like kibibbles strewn across the floor, though when he saw the floor of the study he knew the culprit, or should he say culprits, of this particular incident. The entire floor of the study was covered with papers. A soft thump could be heard from behind the sofa, then some mild cat chattering, and then a swishing noise as Freya came shooting into view, sliding across the polished hardwood floor on a piece of copy paper. Koko soon followed, though a bit less gracefully, skidding into the base of a bookshelf before standing up and licking himself of like he hadn't just collided with a wall. Ze'ev groaned and started closing drawers and picking up papers, "I'm sorry Qwill. I never should've let Freya out of our room." Qwillleran's face shifted from surprise to anger and then to a huge grin as he surveyed the scene. He thrummed his fingers over his mustache, "Seems like your Freya is just as fiendish as Koko can be sometimes. That's a pretty neat game they've got going there." "It usually doesn't get to this out of hand when she does it at home," Z said from behind an armful of papers, "but I guess the more wide open space is letting them get up more speed than usual." "This may seem like an odd question," Qwillleran asked, scooping Koko up off the floor just before he collided with another piece of furniture, "but do you happen to know how many whiskers Freya has?" Ze'ev thought a minute, "if I remember right, she has about 60. I was bored during a video conference once and she was sitting still enough for me to count them. Why? Is it unusual or something?" "Highly unusual. Until now Koko was the only cat I knew of that had a higher whisker count than the usual 48. Would you be willing to be interviewed about Freya's antics? To see if my suspicions are correct?" "Sure. Though it is getting pretty late and I've been up since 4 am to drive up here, so maybe we can do it tomorrow?" They both agreed that that would be best, finished cleaning up the mess their mischievous cats had made, and then headed to their rooms, each with a cat following close behind them. The next morning Ze'ev awoke to a lack of the usual pressure on his back from where Freya usually slept. He guested she had wandered off to investigate other areas of the house while he caught up on sleep. He shuffled around, getting himself presentable for the day, acutely aware of who's house he was staying in and just how in his best behavior he needed to be to keep up a good impression. When Z finally made it downstairs, he found Qwillleran at the kitchen table drinking what smelled like the strongest coffee he'd ever known. A second cup of the stuff was slowly dripping out off an automated coffee maker, which Qwill offered to him. Z took the cup, sniffed it, then tried a sip. It was shockingly strong, but the roast was smooth enough that he could drink it black. He finished the cup and they both worked through a breakfast of bacon and a bagel or so before heading into the study to do the interview about Freya. It was stimulating to hear just how closely Qwill's experiences with Koko mimicked Ze'ev's own, with unusual incidents that turned out to have important meanings later on and a sort of extra intelligence that it seemed both Freya and Koko shared. When the discussion concluded, Qwill suggested that he should take a day trip up to Mooseville, both to see the sights of Moose County along the way as well as to get him some gave time with the locals. Z agreed that this was a pretty good plan and that it would give Qwillleran some alone time with Freya too. He grabbed his jacket, keys, and headed out the door to begin his trip to the lake. However, Ze'ev never made it to the lake that day. He was barely out of town, following his gps up one of the winding highways that crisscrossed the county, when the V8 roar of his '86 Midlands suddenly became off pitch. The accelerator no longer responded as sharply as it should, like half the cylinders had died. And then it stopped responding all together, the cacophony it had been making dying out all together. Z tried the brakes, making sure they still functioned, before pulling off the road in the right of way before the tree line. Putting the car in park, he fought off the instinct to try turning the car off and on again. The last time he'd tried that he'd stripped out first gear because the engine tried to turn over with it still partially engaged. He sat there for a moment, car off, trying to quell the rising panic of being on the side of the road in what felt like the middle of nowhere. Then he remembered the name of the garage Derek had mentioned during dinner last night and searched it up on his phone. Thankfully he still had cell service and GPS signal out here. Z dialed the number and was surprised at who picked up the phone. "Gipple's Garage, Derek speaking. How can I help you?" Derek's voice drawled out of the speakers, dripping with the sheen of a customer service professional. "Derek? You work here too?" Ze'ev stammered. This guy must be busy all the time working there and at Tipsy's. "Of course!" Derek replied, the honeyed veneer dropped from his voice, "You really think being maitre de at Tipsy's pays that well? To be honest, being customer service here doesn't pay well either, but combined they give me enough to get by. Gets me away from all the girls that keep falling over themselves in front of me. Now what did you need? I doubt this is a social call, though then again…" Z heard him chuckling, "Given our conversation last night it might just be. Storm's just out in the shop, I could transfer you out there if…" Ze'ev immediately cut him off, heat coming up into his cheeks, "No no that's not it at all. I uh actually will probably need a tow back to Pickaxe. Everything was going fine until my engine lost power and then quit. Now I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere and that's why I called." "Ah, where exactly are you then? I'll dispatch a tow truck to come get you." Z sighed,"I'm not really sure exactly. I was heading north out of town on what seems to be highway 4, but I have no clue how far out I actually am. There is a bridge a bit ahead of where I'm at though with a nasty looking curve to it. Does that help narrow it down any?" He heard a snap through the phone. "You're at the Bloody Creek bridge then. I'll send someone out there ASAP to rescue you. And don't worry, Mr. Q can pick up the tab on this one. He's got the dough to handle it." With the click of the receiver being set back down, Ze'ev was alone again. It was roughly 20 minutes before he saw the rollback in his rear view mirror. It pulled around in front of him and Z's face turned beet red when he saw the first glimpse of the driver. He was wearing the same well loved boots, a different pair of worn jeans, and that same leather jacket that made Ze'ev drool over how it accentuated his shoulders. Storm Breedlove was walking towards him, hands in his pockets, looking like there wasn't a care in the world. Z quickly tried to school his expression before slowly getting out of the car. The smell of petrol greeted him and hung in the air between them until Storm finally broke the silence. "What seems to be the problem?" His voice was a deep baritone that had the heat rising in Z's face again. He quickly squashed it and explained how the car had suddenly lost power, sounding like only one cylinder bank was firing, then quit completely, stranding him out here. "Sounds like the coil packs on one side burnt out and then a failsafe kicked in," Storm said nonchalantly, "could you pop the hood for me so I can make sure?" Ze'ev quickly ducked back into the driver's seat, glad for the chance to hide his face as he popped the hood latch. The smell of unspent petrol and burnt wires engulfed them as Storm opened the hood. Z slowly got back out of the car and was glad to see the hood obstructing most of his view of Storm. "Yup, that's just what happened," Storm said, bent fully over the front of the car and half buried in the engine bay, "it's a neat safety feature that some fuel injected Midlands have, though it's cases like this where it shows just why they stopped using in in their cars after '92. The whole left cylinder bank is flooded. Good thing you didn't try to start it up again because any residual spark would've blown you sky high." Ze'ev's face paled a bit at this realization. Good thing he hadn't given in to his instincts then. Storm extricated himself from the engine bay and closed the hood a bit harder than Z had expected or preferred, making him jump slightly. "I should have enough replacement parts back at my shop to deal with the burnt out coils, though pumping the engine will take some time." Storm grinned, seemingly invigorated at the prospect of doing this repair, "go put the car in neutral while I get it hooked up." Ze'ev ducked back into the driver's seat and held the car in neutral until Storm gave a signal that everything was hooked in place. When Z didn't get back out immediately, Storm sauntered over and popped the door open for him. "I mean you can stay in your car on the way back. It's safe enough. But it's more comfortable in the truck, if you don't mind being in the center seat that is. The floor is a bit spongy on the passenger side and I don't really want people putting a hole in the floor." Storm smiled at him warmly, seemingly trying to reassure him that his car would be just fine. This was having the complete opposite effect on Ze'ev, however. It was making him nervous and giddy at the same time. Trying to keep his expression from revealing his excitement, he got back out of the car, almost knocking Storm over since he was still leaning on the door, and climbed up into the cab of the rollback. He was surprised at the condition of the interior. He'd expected there to be tobacco smell and grease and dirt everywhere. It was a work truck after all. Instead he was hit with the scent of cologne, leather, and actually some soap. There were still some telltale grease stains here or there, but the rest of the cabin was in top condition, especially surprising since this rollback seemed to be even older than his Midlands was. Z slid across the bench seat and gingerly poked at the foot well on the passenger side. It sagged alarmingly far at his touch, meaning Storm wasn't kidding about it being unsafe over there. He settled himself while he heard the steady whirring of the winch pulling his car up onto the back of the truck. A few moments after it stopped, Storm slid into the driver's seat beside him and started the truck, the rough rumble of its diesel motor cutting the thick silence. As they drove back to Pickaxe, Ze'ev tried to keep his expression schooled and attention distracted by watching the scenery and his car out the window. The close proximity to Storm was intoxicating, as was his warmth. While he was distracting himself, Z subconsciously let his left leg drift over to lean against Storm's. When he noticed, he was surprised that Storm hadn't pulled his leg away, though the pressure did shift some when Storm would brake for a corner or stop sign. If anything the pressure had increased slightly, like he was leaning on Z's leg as well. A slight pressure in Ze'ev's groin belied just how much he was enjoying this contact and he shifted slightly to hide that fact. It had only been about five minutes of this when Storm finally broke the silence, "You seemed pretty focused on me last night at Tipsy's." Ze'ev shuddered, trying to think of a hasty explanation, "Oh...uh….I thought I recognized you from somewhere...uhh…" He trailed off, the blush on his face exposing the true reason he'd been so focused on Storm instead of the conversation at his table. A small smile appeared on Storm's face as he pressed his leg intensely against Ze'ev's, "I think we both know that that's not true." Z's head slumped. There wasn't any malice in Storm's voice, but he felt like he was being scolded for not hiding his infatuation better. It did feel odd that Storm wasn't angry at him, though. Usually the guys he'd shown this much interest in were disgusted by him. Z noticed Storm glancing unusually rapidly into his mirrors as if checking for something. They were in a long, open stretch of the highway, with no other cars in sight, so why did he look so on edge for a second? Ze'ev's eyes grew wide and felt the heat immediately on his face as Storm suddenly put his right arm around Z's shoulders, pulling him slightly closer. "Our type have to stay covert around here," Storm said softly, barely audible over the sound of the truck's engine, "at least your hair is long enough that at a glance most people would think I have a girl in here with me." Ze'ev gasped, "so you're…?" "Yes, gay, like I presume you are with how you were keeping tabs on me last night. Derek may have also clued me in." Storm's face broke into a wide grin, "I was keeping my eye on you too you know. It's not every day when Mr. Q takes another guy out to dinner. Much less one with such striking eyes like yourself." It was Z's turn to grin, "speak for yourself. Your eyes had me distracted as much as the rest of you." He tilted his head to get a slightly better look at Storm's face. Instead of the intense blue that they had been in the artificial light of the restaurant, they were like a wintery sky with what Z could now see as a hazel sunburst circling each pupil. His gaze slowly traveled down over Storm's body, lingering on his shapely jaw, broad, defined chest, and widening slightly at the prominence in the front of Storm's jeans. His focus was sharply broken, however, with the sudden absence of Storm's arm on his shoulder. They had reached the outskirts of town and traffic had picked up again, more cars materializing in front of and behind them. "As flattered as I am to have you virtually undressing me like that," Storm snapped, all traces of interest and smile gone from his voice, "but as you can see, we're back in town now and need to be back on high alert. Rumors run like wildfire here, so we need to protect ourselves." Ze'ev sighed and nodded, scooting slightly away from Storm. He fully understood how intolerant small town life could be for people like them and the need for them to be covert. As they pulled into the parking lot in front of Gipple's Garage, Z was surprised to see only Derek's truck and one other car, which he assumed was Storm's personal vehicle. Storm backed the rollback up to one of the bays and motioned for Z to come help him get his Midlands unloaded. After they pushed the car into the work area, Ze'ev gestured over his shoulder towards the parking lot, "Is that one your's?" Storm's face broke into a huge grin this time, showing his pride for what was obviously his car, "Yup, that's my baby. R124 generation Aether 17/2 R. Black on grey with a black and tan interior. Managed to snag it for really cheap from this old guy in Purple Point." Storm spat on the ground, making his disdain for the guy known, "poor thing had stopped running on him and he just shut it away, preferring to instead use his big new luxury SUV. He'd called me up there for a routine oil change on that bloated thing when I saw this baby sitting half under a tarp in the back corner of his garage. I made an offer and he just let me have it, saying it was originally his daughter's before he disowned her, so he didn't really have that much attachment to it anymore. I brought it back here and it turned out that the only thing wrong with it was the timing chain had come loose. Not broken, just loose." Storm was positively beaming at this point and Ze'ev was captivated by how his whole attitude had shifted, giving him a sort of glow. Storm continued, "One quick trip to the library for some Haynes manual research later and I'd fixed the timing issue that weekend. Now let's get your Midlands back up and running. Don't want another majestic piece of '80s muscle stuck standing still now do we." He held out his hand for Ze'ev's keys,"it shouldn't take me more than a day or so to get this sorted out, though depending on how much is flooded it may be close to a full rebuild. You're welcome to hang here if you want, neither Derek or I will say no to your company. How long are you staying up here in Pickaxe?" "Just for the weekend,'' Z responded, settling himself down onto one of the stools that littered the garage, "though I don't think Qwill would mind me staying an extra day due to car trouble. He's too captivated by my cat anyway." Storm snickered as he got to work making the repairs. Ze'ev breathed a sigh of relief. He was really starting to think he'd like it here in Moose County, and those obligatory five years didn't seem like that long at all. After that tumultuous first weekend spent in Pickaxe, it took Ze'ev until mid september to fully make the decision to take up Qwillleran's offer to become his heir and start his life in Moose County. The transition happened surprisingly quickly, with Ze'ev moving into one of the lusciously Victorian houses on Goodwinter boulevard with Freya. The gossip mill was set into a frenzy at not only his reappearance, but also his audacity to repaint one of the houses on the picturesque street it's original sage green. Qwillleran helped him gain approval from the K fund for a small boutique for Z to run and showcase his designs, which was quickly supported by wool industry in the county as well as the elite that filtered in from neighboring Lochmaster county that jumped at the chance to have local high fashion offerings at their disposal. Ze'ev also renewed his friendship with Storm, hanging out at Gipple's Garage after he was done at his shop every day. They had kept in touch throughout most of the summer, aided by Derek giving Storm Z's cell number, and things had progressed into more of an actual relationship than just mere friends. Speculation on this was also circulating through the grapevine, but it was expected of the K heir to be a bit eccentric at times due to the precedent Mr. Q had set many years ago. Life had finally settled down for Ze'ev around mid October. He was getting used to the pulse of life in Pickaxe, which was much slower than his life before, but also somewhat comforting. He was chilling on a stool in one of the bays at Gipple's Garage, watching Storm as he wrenched on Z's Midlands. Storm was installing a supercharger onto the 4.0 V8, something that Z had always dreamed of being able to do, but had never had the financial means to do before. Z watched admiringly as Storm wiggled under the car, his shirt riding up to reveal his well toned stomach as he reached for some obscure nook of the engine bay. "Hey, Storm. I've been thinking…" Z cut himself off as a string of curses came from under the car. When they stopped, he continued, "so you know how Qwill said I could make bigger purchases with the K Fund's approval? I thought my shop would've come under something like that, but it didn't. Apparently they had expected me to want to at least try to make my own brand and planned for it." He heard a sigh come from under the car. Storm didn't like it that much when he brought up the K Fund and his newfound wealth. Storm rolled out from under the car, the hazel in eyes flashing hotter than usual. "There goes my concentration," he snapped, "what's so surprising about them planning for that? You blabbed your whole plan to him the first time you met him." "Yes, that is true," Z mused. Storm was up on his feet now, leaning against the fender, arms folded across his chest. His initial irritation was subsiding, but the smolder was still there. "I've come up with a way to test just how far I can push what they'll let me buy," Z said, crossing over to Storm and gently sliding his hand past Storm's waist to rest on the fender beside him, "and I want you to help me with it." There was very little space between them now and Storm's eyes had gone from irritated to surprised to panicky. He slid quickly out from Z's pressuring stance and flopped down into one of the few chairs that were on the back wall of the garage. He didn't mind how close Ze'ev had gotten to him, in fact he was proud of how decisive Z was being. However, it was still daytime and he didn't want anyone seeing them that close, knowing it would fuel the rumors even further. Rumors that could easily lose him customers if they were confirmed. "What exactly do you want me to help with?" "Well, my birthday is coming up in about a week and I was thi.." Storm cut Z off quickly, "Yes, yes. You've reminded me multiple times already. I won't forget about it. What does it have to do with messing with the K Fund? Z grinned, leaning a bit more on the fender, oblivious to the grease stains he was accumulating as he shifted, "lol. That's not what I was implying. You know how the garage behind my house has space for multiple cars?" Storm nodded, though he wasn't completely sure if he understood where Z was going with this, "Room for four cars total of I remember right, yeah." "Yup, space for my Midlands, your Aether when you're there, and two other spots. I was thinking that, for my birthday, I could treat myself to a new car. It would take some of the stress off this guy," Z ran his fingers delicately over the fender he was resting against, "And at the same time it would let me test how far I can go with a reasonably large purchase." "And you're thinking that I'd like to come along on this cat search right?", Storm's eyes were twinkling with excitement as he leaned forward in his chair, "So what kind of car did you have in mind? Some kind of hypercar perhaps?" He chuckled, "Or one of those insane kit cars that we could spend some 'quality time' building together." Ze'ev blushed immediately at the intent behind that suggestion, "uhh….no…actually I was thinking about something more like one of these." He held out his phone to Storm, which had a collection of cars up on it, "A grand tourer from the late '60s early '70s is what I had in mind. Something that, if my knowledge of what things are worth is right, will easily push the limits of what the K Fund will allow. We'll probably have to go down below to find them though and I don't know if.." "Actually we shouldn't have to go too far," Storm interjected, cutting off Z's rambling explanation, "We should actually be able to find what you're looking for around here." Now it was Storm's turn to break out into a huge grin,"as it so happens, there are a lot of cars tucked away out of sight around here that should fit the bill, but only if you know where to look. And you're looking at one of the few who does. There's more money on this community than you'd think, historically, and people here like to hold onto things. It won't be easy, but we'll get you that GT you're after." He smirked, pacing back over where Ze'ev leaning against his car and executing more deftly the move Z had tried on him earlier, "Be here at 5 am tomorrow, and wear clothes you don't mind getting dirty." The heat was almost suffocating between them as Storm snuck a quick kiss on Z's flushed cheek, "We're going car hunting.”