Things were tense for a few days.
Dustin had grown increasingly angry and had started researching all possible angles of investigation immediately. He had told Troy, in no uncertain terms, that he was not to do any more TFs until Dustin had figured out a way to fix things. Troy could tell he was serious, and had backed off.
Troy went through the listings for mechanics that would take used cars. Body shops were what he needed; Someplace that stolen cars could go get cleaned. There had to be somewhere that would do that kind of stuff on the down low.
Dustin mostly kept to himself in his room, not speaking to Troy. Troy understood, and he really felt bad about how he’d treated Dustin. He realized he’d made a mistake, and now he needed his help to clean up the mess he’d made.
Then came the phone call Troy had dread. He hadn’t answered it. Dustin had. And now…
“Troy!” Dustin shouted, marching into the living room. “Do you happen to have any…cars somewhere around here?”
“Why?”
“The cops are trying to geolocate a Missing Persons and it’s coming from around here. They can’t get an exact location.” Dustin replied.
“I might have…” Troy replied carefully. “Shit, dude, I need your help.”
“What else have you fucked up, Troy?” Dustin crossed his arms.
“Look man, I’ve said it a thousand times already. I’m sorry.” Troy said. “But I need your help in getting rid of the cars. Pretty soon they’ll find them in that abandoned lot.”
“You… hid the cars…” Dustin said slowly, his face twitching. “In an abandoned lot?”
“Yeah. The one right next to our apartment complex. Right next to the woods– hey where are you going,” Troy shouted as Dustin rushed out the door.
He ran down the block and took a hard right. Troy followed after him, panting, realizing where he was going. He took out his Book just in case he needed to get rid of Dustin too. If he was going to snap and narc on him to the cops, he’d have to go. Dustin came to a stop, staring at the overgrown lot.
“I can’t see them,” Dustin said, panting.
“Fuck man, you gotta let me know before you bolt off like that!” Troy replied as he caught up to him. “I almost—”
“Almost turned me into an animal?” Dustin glared at Troy. “What the fuck, bro?”
“You’d have done it too,” Troy said icily.
“Ok. Okay, maybe I would have.” Dustin shrugged and looked away. “Why do you need to dispose of the cars? Just change them all back.”
“Well, one of them is a show tiger in Vegas and another is… dead, I think. Chloroformed and pinned by a Japanese collector,” Troy replied.
“And the ones nearby? Horses, bulls…?”
“Just…” Troy thought back to when he transformed Brandon. “…I could transform them back. And then what? I can’t erase their minds. Control doesn’t work on humans, Dustin.”
“Hmmph. And you’d still be on the hook for stealing their savings accounts and kidnapping,” Dustin sighed.
“Yeah…” Troy stared off into the distance. “And now I can’t even spend that money cause the cops are looking at me sideways.”
“First of all, you need to launder it, and second, you’re going about this the wrong way, man.” Dustin shook his head disapprovingly.
“Oh, you’re talking now? I thought you were angry with me,” Troy replied.
“I am angry with you. But I can’t let you flail around and get me in trouble. I’m your roommate. Any illegal shit you get up to will be attributed to me.” Dustin walked back to the apartment. “Come on, let’s talk about this stuff inside.”
“So they can charge you even if you didn’t do anything,” Troy said, trying to keep the conversation going as they walked home.
“Accessory to the fact,” Dustin replied shortly.
“Ah, so you’d get a lesser charge,” Troy replied, happy his friend was speaking with him at least.
“If I were a woman maybe. No one is sympathetic to a man. Come on, Troy. You should know that much by now.”
They went back inside their apartment and sat down at the couch.
“Alright, fine,” Troy slid the laptop over to Dustin. “How do we find body shops that do illegal stuff?”
“Okay, first of all, it’s called a chop shop. Second, you need to use Google Earth so you can see a satellite view.”
“Why?”
“Chop shops have really high fences to conceal what they are doing. IE, chopping up stolen cars and selling them for parts. Look for ones outside of town. They usually have a tow business attached, gives them some more business that way. Now, when you find a likely candidate, you should mark it down. Then, we go to the chop shops and check out the site; We can split up to cover more ground that way.”
“And if we do find one? How do we…”
“Carefully, my friend. It’s an awkward dance, can’t ask them if they chop cars. Just talk up the youngest mechanic, make nice. It might take a week or so to schmooze them, but, once we get them drunk and talking, we can convince them to work with us.”
“Okay,” Troy nodded. “Go there, befriend a young mechanic… couldn’t we just befriend any mechanic and figure out who runs a chop shop? It would be an open secret, right?”
“Well, yeah, which is why I told you to make some friends. Get a referral from them. It’s easier than doing a big song and dance to assure them you aren’t a cop.”
“Gotcha.” Troy leaned back, cracked his knuckles, and started looking for them on the map.
They found two. One was on the outskirts of town on the north side, the other was on the south side. Dustin figured only one of them would be a real chop shop, the other would just be some redneck’s project shop. Only way to find out was to go to them and inspect the area in person.
“So which one do you want, north or south,” Dustin asked, pressing his glasses up his nose and cocking his head.
“Uhhh…”
“Are you undecided because you really want to get the chop shop or because you want the one that doesn’t require you to be friendly to people?”
“I can be friendly,’ Troy protested.
“Dude, you’re ice. Whatever you did between the time you turned me into a dog and when you changed me back fucked with you, bro,” Dustin said.
Troy cleared his throat, “I… look, feeling things gets in the way of making money. If I started feeling bad, I’d question all of my decisions and end up in prison.”
“Oh? Not going to TF the Feds?”
“I’m not that stupid.”
“You had me fooled. Messaging people, giving them your address, sending the money to your personal bank account?” Dustin shook his head, “I bet you didn’t even have a buyer lined up when you changed the first guy.”
Troy looked away.
“Criminals get caught because they do things without thinking them through. Brandon Mcain. His name ringing any bells,” Dustin asked.
“Victim…” Troy mumbled.
“Yeah, victim, Troy. Did you know the last call he made to his brother came from this address?”
“I smashed the phone,” Troy yelled. “Fuck you! I’m not stupid, Dustin!”
“You let him make a call.” Dustin said coldly. “That’s what started this. No call, no one would have bothered checking up on him for a month or two. Guy was a nerdy recluse.”
Troy stood and walked to the door. He grabbed his keys off the coatrack; Then, he paused and tossed the Book at Dustin.
“Where are you going,” Dustin asked, “and why did you give me the Book?”
“North. And since you’re so smart, why don’t you run things!” Troy snarled.
Troy didn’t care if Dustin would take revenge on him. He was sick and tired of fucking things up. He had made too many mistakes which lead them to where they are now. If he hadn’t kept Dustin a dog for so long maybe things would be different. Fuck it!
Dustin tossed the Book on the couch, “I’m not touching it. What if it’s like the DeathNote, and using it fucks you over somehow?”
“Oh, you always think of the nicest fucking things to say!” Troy snapped, slipping on his coat. “Making me second guess myself! You want power, I just gave it to you. Why don’t you do better than me?”
“Nope,” Dustin crossed his arms, “don’t want it.”
“Then get your fatass off the couch and go south,” Troy said, finishing zipping up his coat-which was harder to do when he was angry. He left ashamed and enraged, slamming the door behind him.
Dustin sat alone in the house and stared at the Book of Beast.
“What the fuck are you really,” he said aloud, then shivered.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Troy drove out to the North Autobody Repair Shop, called Bubba’s Body Shop. It was on the outskirts of town. The front of the big, warehouse-like structure faced the road with a long driveway leading up to a parking lot. In the parking lot itself were a bunch of really nice cars, vintage. There was a huge semi cab loaded up and parked without a trailer.
What caught Troy’s eye the most – and what he’d seen with the satellite view – was the mile of fence line almost nine feet tall halfway to the roof of the Body Shop. It was actually kinda easy to miss because of its size, but mostly because trees had been planted in rows in front of and behind the fence. Overgrowth rendered the fence mostly invisible. It wasn’t chain link either; It was made of solid metal sheets. From the aerial view Dustin had seen a bunch of things that indicated a possible chop shop, but the rendering wasn’t that good. It was hard to tell if the vehicles were being parted out or if they were doing any number of legal things to them.
Troy pulled into a customer parking spot and turned off the car. He needed to find the youngest mechanic and make friends, which meant small talk. He needed to make small talk with someone whom he couldn’t afford to turn into an animal if they upset him, which was regrettably a habit he’d been getting into that he hadn’t told Dustin about.
He got out of the car and walked to the shop. Inside he could see more than a few things that were red flags: heavy pulleys, acetylene torches, everything that FBI warning had told him about. And it was out in the open too.
Cars parts were scattered about and a big man with a torch welder was chopping off a door to an SUV. Troy had expected to see some signs, but he hadn’t expected them to be operating so blatantly out in the open. He had a sinking feeling those weren’t good signs.
What did it mean that they could afford to be so obvious? Were they protected? Were they part of a gang of some kind? Would he be forced to make deals with them? A huge, bearded man shouldered pass him, almost belly bumping him to the floor.
“Sorry kid,” The man called over his shoulder.
Troy’s hand flew to his pocket and came up empty. He’d left the Book at home with Dustin. Whatever, he spat on the floor glaring at the huge man’s back. He was better off without the Book otherwise this place might turn into a goddamn zoo and—
“Oh, hey,” A pleasant, southern-tinged voice called from behind him. “Ya shouldn’t go in there, bud!”
Troy turned to look.
A handsome young man with his black hair in a short stylish haircut stood at the entrance of the garage. He was built. Heavy frame packed with swollen muscles that were swathed in thick body hair. He had a chinstrap beard on his face that outlined his roguish good looks and gorgeous green eyes that glittered when Troy looked at him. Troy’s heart pounded in his chest. This guy was gorgeous.
He wasn’t wearing the most stylish of outfits though. He wore a grease-stained muscle-tee that showed off his pierced nipples and a pair of dirty sweatpants topped off his look. He had one hand in his pocket and the other held a clipboard. Troy wandered over to him.
“Hey man,” The guy winked. Troy realized he had a septum piercing. “So what can I do ya for?”
“Uh…” Troy hadn’t really decided on interested buyer of parts or seller thereof. “Well, I saw the cars…”
“Oh, the vintage ones, huh? Ya know they’re for sale, right?” The guy leaned over and held out a hand. “I’m Sam, by the way.”
Troy shook it, then had to get out of the way as another large man lumbered past him.
“Yeah, see, that’s what I meant about not going in there. They got jobs to do. I’m front desk help,” Sammy said while eyeing the guy strangely.
“Is everyone here this big,” Troy asked, staring at the man’s massive backside.
“Huh? I guess they vary, but it’s sorta the nature of the work. Big jobs need big guys, and big guys love big jobs.” Sam shrugged.
“Very philosophical,” Troy said wryly.
“Yup! Oh, I just know I’m gonna like you.” Sam winked again and Troy smiled. “There we go! Cracking the ice already! You should smile more, bud, it suits you.”
Troy shook his head. “You, uh…”
“No need to be awkward. Look, I can take you for a tour and show off the lot. If you see something you like or wanna know more about, just ask. How’s that sound,” Sam said, pushing Troy towards the vintage cars.
“Uh, sure, but they might be out of my price range,” Troy said to the strangely persuasive yet pushy man. He was definitely a salesman.
“We’ll find something that fits and if it won’t fit we’ll adjust things a bit until they do. How about that,” Sam asked.
Troy licked his lips, looking at the Chevys and Fords and Porsches. “Sure. I, uh, gotta keep the purchase in cash. Is that fine?”
“Fine by me.” Sam’s green eyes glinted. “Course, don’t know many guys carrying around 70 grand in cold hard cash.”
“You just don’t know the right people,” Troy replied, checking out the selection.
“Ya never did say why ya came here,” Sam continued, watching Troy. Troy saw Sam staring at him intently through the windshield of a car.
“Nope. That’s true. I believe a certain pushy salesman cut me off.” Troy turned and winked at Sam.
Sam smiled. “Well, I suppose you’re right about that. I do love talking. Talk talk talk!”
“I need to get rid of cars,” Troy said.
Sam paused, “Sorry, couldn’t hear you. What?”
“I said I need to remove 11 vehicles from my property and dispose of them. You are a junkyard too, right?”
“Huh, that is so weird,” Sam said, screwing up his face and sticking a pinkie in his ear. “I swear your mouth is moving but nothin’s comin’ out.”
Troy stared at him, “How about $100,000 dollars? Did you catch that part?”
“Mister, I don’t know you, but I do know you probably need a job that direct deposits cause I don’t think we can take your cash no more.” Sam replied.
“Riiight,” Troy rolled his eyes. “And if I report you for the acetylene torches, the blocked line of sight to the property, the car parts… should I go on?”
“No, ya really shouldn’t, but I’m guessin’ you will.” Sam crossed his arms.
“I need to get rid of them.”
“Sounds like you need me more’n I need you,pal,” Sam replied, one gold tooth glinting as he smiled.
“Look, I’d love to play the song and dance of me befriending you, taking you to the bar, blah blah blah like my partner said, but I’ve got a week to get rid of them before the police are crawling up my ass.”
“Where’s your buddy?”
“Chop shop to the south,” Troy shrugged. “Double our odds. He’s a people person and I am not.”
“Word.”
Troy rolled his eyes. “How much?”
“Like I said, I don’t think you’re a good person and I won’t take your money, pal,” Sam replied.
“Fine,” Troy said pulling out his phone to speed dial Dustin.
“Whoa, wait, there’s no need to do that,” Sam held up his hand.
“What, should I tell him North is a bust?”
“Tell him anything. I have an investment you should ponder, okay?”
“How does that help me now?”
“Well, how about a way for you to have, say, one hundred and fifty thousand dollars in your bank account, a new house, and a job, and a way to haul those cars here?”
“No such thing as a free lunch. You really expect me to believe you can get me all of that,” Troy rolled his eyes. “Come on. If you were interested in taking my money and disposing of these cars, you’d have done so already. Be real.”
“No, I wouldn’t have because I don’t know you,” Sam said. “But like I said, I know a way to make that a non-issue.”
Troy paused, “Okay, how?”
Sam turned and pointed over a door near the customer parking area. “There. Go in there, ring the bell that says ‘Bubba’. Head mechanic will be out to talk to you.”
“So… you don’t think I’m a cop…”
“No, you’re too dumb to be a cop,” Sam smiled.
“Why, you—!”
“Ah, ah, easy now. Go talk to my… to Bubba, and we’ll get this whole thing sorted out for you. Won’t have to worry about those cars no more, I guarantee it.” Sam winked.