Page 67 of Enzo
Robbie huffed a small laugh and stepped closer, brushing his fingers along the door. “It looks… kinda mean. Like it has a story.”
“Oh, it does,” Rio jumped in. “These things were made for the streets. They were fast, loud, and not afraid to throw down. This one? We’re giving her a second life.”
Jamie wiped the grease from his hands and looked up. “Hey Robbie, you like it?”
Robbie hesitated for a second before glancing at me. “Yeah,” he said. “I think I do.”
“She’s gonna be beautiful,” Rio said all wistful before turning back to Jamie, already elbow-deep in the engine.
“This intake manifold is a mess,” Jamie muttered, gesturing at the grime-caked component. “Looks like someone tried to swap out the original carb for a four-barrel but botched the job. Might explain why the engine seized.”
I turned to Robbie, ready to explain. “The intake manifold distributes the air-fuel mixture to the cylinders. If it’s cracked or clogged, the whole system chokes.” I gestured with my hands as if that made my explanation any clearer.
Robbie nodded, eyes sharp. “I read a book about it,” he said, tilting his head as if he were thumbing through cards in his brain to find the right one. “So if they mismatched the carburetor, it would’ve thrown off the fuel-to-air ratio, starving the engine or flooding it, depending on how bad the setup was.”
Rio and Jamie both paused, eyebrows raised. I blinked. “Uh, yeah. Exactly.”
Robbie smirked, but then his expression faltered. He dipped his head, looking uncertain, as if he’d overstepped. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I meant to listen to you explain. I just—” He shrugged, fidgeting. “Yeah.”
I crossed my arms and eyed him. “Okay, Mr. Brain,” I teased. “What do we do next?”
Robbie blinked at me. “You want me to answer?”
I nodded. “Go for it.”
He hesitated for a beat, uncertainty flickering in his eyes as if he were weighing the risk of speaking up. Then, with a quick breath, he squared his shoulders, determination settling over him like armor. “Well,” he began, counting each item on his fingers, “first, we need to remove the old Rochester Quadrajet 4MV carb and check the condition of the intake manifold gasket—if it’s brittle or cracked, we’ll replace it. Next, we must clean any varnish or sludge from the intake runners and check the vacuum lines for leaks. The fuel lines should be flushed, and the inline fuel filter—probably a GF416—should be swapped. There’d be issues if we slapped a new Edelbrock 1406 on there without first ensuring a clean fuel delivery system.”
Silence. We all stared at Robbie.
“How the fuck do you even know that?” Rio asked, and I sent him my best shut-the-fuck-up stare, which he ignored. “You’re like a walking encyclopedia!”
The damage was done. Robbie’s face was scarlet, and he dipped his head, embarrassed, as if he’d overstepped. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I meant to pretend to… I just—” He trailed off, and stared up at me, his eyes wide with fear. “I remember things I read. It’s kind of my superpower, I guess. I’m sorry to overstep... so sorry.” He stepped back, but something compelled me to stop him. He should be proud that his brain was so freaking full of clever shit, own it, use it. I know I felt proud of him.
“Ignore Rio, he’s an asshole,” I reassured and punched Rio in the arm.
“I’m not an asshole; I’m just observant!” Rio snapped, rubbing his elbow.
“‘Observant’?” Jamie scoffed. “Yeah, sure, let’s call it that. More like you have the subtlety of a jackhammer and no brain.”
“Excuse you, I have plenty of brain. I choose not to use it.”
Jamie rolled his eyes. “And that’s why nobody trusts you with their coffee orders.”
“That was one time!” Rio shot back, throwing his hands up. “How was I supposed to know oat and regular milk weren’t interchangeable?”
Jamie smirked, reaching out and smearing an oily hand across Rio’s mouth before he could say another word. Rio yelped, stumbling back, cursing between muffled grumbles.
I left them to their nonsense, shaking my head as I turned back to Robbie, who was watching with wide eyes. “Okay. So what do we do next?”
Robbie’s gaze flicked to mine, uncertainty flashing across his face. “I haven’t read that far yet,” he said, sounding so disappointed it made me smile.
“Best get to it then,” I teased. Robbie glanced from me to the car and back again, and then, with a small, nervous huff, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the file room—his room—leaving us watching him go.
Jamie clambered down from the truck, smears of oil streaked across his face, looking smug.
“Kid’s a fucking genius! Imagine how much money we’d rake in with his card-counting at a poker table!”
My temper flared hot and fast before I even had time to think. One second, I was standing there; the next, I was on Jamie, shoving him back against the wall.
