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James had toured Richard’s little garage set up and was suitably impressed. What should have been a small vanity project was actually a large vanity project with a team of employees and lots of space for Hammond’s post-employment/retirement time sink. It was all new and clean, much cleaner than any other garage save the occasional F1 garage James had been in. For now it held Fords and BMWs and Range Rovers. If he opened it up to the public he’d see a lot more Peugeots and Kias, dripping oils all over the pristine floors.
Filming wrapped on his little YouTube project and James snagged another biscuit from the kitchen, managing to hold the dog inside this time. It was getting late but James didn’t mind. He had no where else to go and nothing to do except hang out with Richard and maybe convince him to go out for a curry. And a pint or two within reason. If they managed to get out the door at a reasonable time.
Richard wandered around as the staff left for the day. Neil lingered behind, cleaning and organizing in an OCD way that left Richard grinding his teeth. James chuckled quietly as Hammond made faces with his back to Neil, looking at his watch and rolling his eyes.
“It’s fine, really, we’ll get it in the morning.” The one day he wanted everyone to leave early and someone wouldn’t take the hint.
“Won’t take but a few minutes to do it properly.” Neil ambled around the shop like he also had nowhere to be. “Get started straight away in the morning then.”
Richard moaned to himself and looked up at James from under his eyelashes. He hadn’t strictly come for the tour and to make a video, although they were useful distractions as Hammond worked. “Fucks sake,” Richard hissed. James leaned back against the bench and smirked. He wasn’t the one who’d called, desperate and pleading.
Something heavy and metallic thudded out in the garage. “Sorry!” Neil called. James imagined it was a breaker bar or maybe the handle of a floor jack. Hammond was bouncing as the delay kept getting longer and longer. He’d waited all day and the last few minutes were torturous.
After running his hands through his hair, Richard blew out a deep breath and looked around. The paint booth was isolated, mostly sound proof, and had a door on it. Neil wasn’t likely to barge in as they didn’t have any paint jobs currently. The offices were out as was the kitchen and the toilet wasn’t an option he wanted to think about. Richard caught James’ eye and nodded his head towards the booth. It would do.
James raised an eyebrow. ’There? Now?’ he asked silently. Richard nodded. Anywhere, as long as it was now. James smiled as Neil was still making noises out in the garage. He trailed his hand over Richard’s jeans as he walked past, earning a grunt and a smaller hand catching his wrist and pushing James’ hand firmly against Richard’s crotch. Richard followed as James led him into the spray booth, lights on full and the latch of the door echoing through the shop.
Later, sated, James needed some water and a smoke and a damp rag. Feeling much better, Richard clambered to his feet and set off in search of the usual aftercare items. He’d forgotten he’d not finished the spray room completely. “James,” he said warily. As a paint room it was sealed, no cracks or edges to the door where he could get his nails in. He’d also not gotten the expensive door handle yet, pushing that expense further down the line until they did more paint work.
James was still on the floor, catching his breath and fighting the urge for a quick nap.
Richard pounded on the door. Maybe Neil was still out there organizing. They’d just gotten stuck in the spray room, is all. James would have his trousers pulled back up by then. Just showing off his equipment. Downdrafts. Vents. All the sorts of stuff James was known to love.
James watched Richard beat on the door and try to cram his fingers into the nonexistent gaps around the edges. “Don’t tell me we’re locked in.”
“Well it’s negative pressure!” The circulation system and filters were working well, sucking up any noise they made and making the already impossible to open doors that much tighter. Richard put his shoulder into the door, stepping back when it didn’t budge.
“Have you tried pulling?” James called from the floor.
“There’s nothing to pull!” Richard scrambled his hands over the flat surface. “It’s...”
“Couldn’t afford five quid for a handle?” James was rolling over now and getting himself presentable. He wiped his soiled hand across the steel grating, unable to find a shop rag in the unused space.
The ledger books ran close to the red and Richard had to mull over auctioning off another cherished car to afford simple things. “I just haven’t gotten to it yet.” Richard rested against the door, thudding his head against the heavy weight. He remembered it was modern times and patted his pocket for his mobile phone. “Shit.” It was in the office, charging. “Have you got your mobile?”
James was finally sitting up and looking thoroughly debauched. He lifted a cheek and pulled out his mobile, waking up the screen and waiting for a signal to register. “Is this spray room a giant metal box?”
Richard nodded. Between the walls and ceiling itself was all the venting, baffles, and filters there was a lot of metal surrounding them inside the building.
“It’s a giant Faraday cage.” James was looking at the ceiling and the giant fans pushing the air down through the floor grates. Richard wasn’t sure what a Faraday cage was, but it sounded bad. “No signal.” James held his phone up for Richard to see the screen. At Richard’s blank expression James started to explain the physics. “The metal surrounding us is conductive and the electromagnetic...”
“I don’t care.” Without their mobile phones they’d have to think of another way. Neil either hadn’t heard them or had already left for the day. At least he hadn’t cut the power and lights. Richard pushed at the door again, glaring at it when it didn’t budge. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
It was barren and isolated, but they weren’t in any immediate dangers. “Someone will come by eventually. I can’t see us turning to bones and dust overnight.”
“Overnight!” Richard started to pace the length of the booth. “I can’t be locked in here all night.”
James shrugged. The floor wasn’t the most comfortable, but the air was breathable and neither of them would starve. A few hours of boredom would be the worst of it. Maybe Mindy would panic if Richard didn’t make it home. Surely someone would check the shop when Richard wasn’t reachable and didn’t make it home by sundown.
James had no one who would be looking for him. Maybe Sarah if a day or two went by. His cats never did figure out how to text.
“Just go to sleep when you’re tired. Neil’ll be back in the morning.”
But dinner. And toilet issues. And sleeping on the hard floor in the bright lights wasn’t going to just happen. Richard didn’t even have any phone to distract himself with a game. He could only pace for so long, listening to his own heavy footfalls over the drone of the fans.
“Hey Hammond.” James was still sitting on the floor, his useless phone left carelessly over the floor extraction system. “Help me up.” Richard reached out a hand an realized too late why James’ hand was sticky.
“Ahhhh...” There was nowhere to wash his hand and not even a pile of rags in the empty room to wipe. “Ewwww...”
James went to the big roller doors and wiggled it. Pad locked from the outside, of course. With no cars moving into the spray booth there was no reason to have it unlocked. “Well, we can play ISpy until we get tired.” Richard was still trying to discretely wipe the residue off his palm. “I spy something... white.” It hadn’t worked on Jeremy in the arctic and James knew it wouldn’t work on Richard either, but it was a distraction when one got lost in their anxiety.
The entire booth was white and stainless and Hammond made a noise.
“I’ve got a Jam Dodger left.” He’d eaten through most of the sleeve while rambling around the garage. He had shoved the last one into his pocket with intentions of eating it later. Sadly it had been crushed by a rather enthusiastic Hammond. The jam still held most of the bits together. Between pocket fuzz and crumble it was mostly edible if unsuitable supper. Richard eyed the woe some treat and turned his nose up. James pushed it closer. “You can have it.”
“I’m going to die in my own garage with James May.” Richard fake cried. It had only been ten minutes.
“Could be worse.” James shrugged and broke off a bit of biscuit, chewing slowly. “Could be Jeremy.”
“What fraction of your mind thinks that’s any better?” He went back to pacing, kicking the locked door any time he came near it. There had to be a way, even if they James Bond-ed out and climbed through the ventilation ducts.
It was hopeless. They were locked in together until the morning. It would be a sleepless, uncomfortable night on the hard floor listening to James belch and fart and ramble on until all hours. Maybe he could just strangle him now and be done with it. All the blood would just go down into the grating. It could all be cleaned later. The place was meant for spills.
“You want to have another go?” James ate the last of the biscuit, sentencing Richard to starvation. “If we’re here all night you could go slower.”
“What? Now?” They’d just finished and it was going to take some time to recover. “You joke that I’m thirty eight still, but I’m not.”
James pulled out his phone and clicked around on the screen. Maybe he was pulling up a movie to keep them occupied. Once his battery was dead it would be over, but a few hours spent watching a movie, any movie, was time well diverted.
Soon the subtle strains of Genesis filled the air, the same insipid story about lawnmowers coming from James’ phone as he grinned and turned the volume up. It was war. James wanted to die.
“Alright, alright.” Hammond made a grab for his phone and James clicked the song off. “You’re so smart, you figure out how to get us out.”
“My plan is to sit tight for the night and get let out in the morning.” James looked content at the prospect and Richard started to really panic. There would be no pretty woman to snuggle with. No noisy children or running animals. No television or internet to distract him. He would be alone, with James. Quietly.
The door popped open behind him and Neil stuck his head in, glasses slipping from where they were balanced on his head.
“Oh thank God,” Richard whispered, never happier to see someone.
“I waited for yer moanin’ and groanin’ to stop, ‘cuse I didn’t need ta see none a-that.” Richard quickly shuffled towards the door. He was not getting locked in again, even if it meant pushing Neil out of the way. “There are better places, you know. Yer office, or the bog like the rest of us.” Neil was short but stocky, blocking the doorway. “I’d always through up on the catwalk would be nice. Get ta look down over everything.”
“The handrail would give one a good grip as well. Safety first,” James piped up from behind him.
Richard managed to look Neil directly in the eye. “Don’t give him any ideas.”
Neil backed up, holding the door open. “The handle will be installed tomorrow.”
Richard ducked his head and hoped to get out of the awkward situation. “Will you show me your office? I never did get a proper tour.” James wasn’t embarrassed at all, even with the obvious stain on his shirt.
He had keys to his office and keys to the garage. They wouldn’t be trapped anymore even with the super deluxe office tour.
“Back in the morning boss!” Neil toddled off home and they waited until the steel security door slammed shut. Richard looked at James and smiled, sprinting for the stairs.