Page 39 of Good Friends
A moment later, just as Gavin was going to head through the office to find the hangar door, a guy walked in, a mechanic. “Hey. Can I help you?”
Gavin needed to swallow and heard how shaky his voice sounded. “Hey. I’m from Addleson Aviation, over on the other side of the complex. I need to speak to Porter, please.”
“He left for lunch a little while ago. Did we get some of your packages, too?”
Gavin shook his head. “No, this is about something else. We’re…old friends. I didn’t realize he was working here, and he left before I really had a chance to talk to him. I was hoping to grab lunch with him. Any idea where he went?”
“Sorry, he didn’t say. You’re welcome to wait for him, if you want.”
Shit. “Thanks. I’ll try calling him.” He pulled his cell from his back pocket and walked outside to his truck like he was trying to call him.
Instead, he got into his truck and sat there with it running and the AC on high to wait for Porter.
* * * *
Porter sat in his truck in the parking lot of Addleson Aviation and waited for Gavin to return from lunch. He could text him, but he was afraid if he did that he’d end up in another fight with him.
He wanted to sit and discuss this like adults.
Unfortunately, his lunch break was almost over, and he still hadn’t eaten lunch.
And it was going to take him for-fucking-ever to get back to work.
That was one good thing about Lakeland—even rush hour there wasn’t a fraction as bad as this traffic.
After waiting thirty minutes and with no sign of Gavin, Porter finally gave up and headed back to work, grabbing a sandwich on the way to eat there. He couldn’t wait any longer. When he returned and walked out to the hangar to let Jim know, the man looked up from the plane he was working on.
“Did that guy catch up with you?”
Porter stopped. “What guy?”
“That guy from Addleson Aviation. He came by looking for you. Said he’s a friend of yours.”
Porter closed his eyes and mentally counted to five.Motherfucker.
Of course, leave it to Gavin to complicate the absolutefuckout of an already epically fubared situation. “Thanks. I’ll call him. I’m sure we’ll catch up soon.” He returned to the office, sat at the front desk, and unwrapped his sandwich.
Oh, we’re going to catch up, all right. And he’s going to catch a shit-load of hell from me.
But he wasn’t going to call him. Not right now. Fuck that, if Gavin was going to act like a passive-aggressive teenaged girl, Porter would treat him like one.
He had a hard time getting his mind back on his work though. After turning off the ringer on his cell phone, he threw himself into trying to learn his way around the office, fielding phone calls, familiarizing himself with their computer system, and getting up-to-speed on all the current and pending repair and maintenance, inspection, and repair jobs on the schedule.
Mostly, he managed to keep Gavin off his mind.
It was close to dusk when he finally walked outside a little before seven and locked the front door. A truck had been parked next to his, but they shared a lot with the business next door, which was still open.
Then he heard a car door open and realized…
Shit. Here we go.
* * * *
Gavin knew he should have called Porter, but he’d fucked this up enough. He didn’t want to do this on the phone.
He wanted this handled in person, where he could watch Porter’s face,seethe man.
Convince himself Porter wasn’t lying to him. Because Porter was right—other than the occasional little white lie everyone told to spare someone’s feelings, he could not ever remember a single time Porter had ever outright lied to someone.
