Thursdays aren’t usually this busy, but it seems like everybody, including their mothers and their grandmas, is in need of mechanical work today. From the moment we opened up shop this morning, walk-ins have been coming in steadily, on top of the appointments we already had scheduled.
Sweat lines my brows, more dripping down my back. My undershirt is stuck to my skin, and I can’t fucking wait to rip this jumpsuit off when I get done. Wiping the back of my hand across my forehead, probably getting oil smeared all over, I bring my attention back to Mrs. Lawrence’s Buick. It’s about two years overdue for an oil change and a tune-up, but since Mr. Lawrence died a few years back, she’s been kind of forgetful with maintenance.
Her nephew brought it in this morning after he noticed a smell coming from under the hood when he took it to pick up her groceries. It’s about on its last leg.
Footsteps sound on the concrete floor, letting me know someone is in the shop with me again. I can tell by the way they walk, it’s my friend and co-worker, Miguel. That’s confirmed when he pats me on the back and says, “Hey,cabrón.”
“What’s up, man?” Shoving the rag into the back pocket of my jumpsuit, I brush my hands off. “Thought you were gone for the day already.”
“Left my cell phone in the office,” he says. “Hey, wanna grab a beer before I head home?”
“Hell yeah. I’m almost done with Mrs. Lawrence’s car,” I tell him. “Is Benny gone already?”
Benny, orBenito, is my uncle and the owner of this shop. Miguel and I have worked for him since before we graduated high school. I’ve been fixing up cars since before I could even drive one, so working for my uncle was always the plan. Aside from my sister, Benny is the family member I’m the closest to.
When I was kicked out of my house as a teenager, it was Benny I went and lived with until I turned eighteen and could afford to move out on my own. He’s always been there for me, like this shop has always been here for me.
Miguel is like family to me. Everyone knows him as my cousin, but he’s not actually my blood. We lived on the same block all growing up, and have been best friends since before I could remember.
“Yeah, he left about a half hour ago when I originally did. He’s got a date.” Miguel says the word“date”with a waggle of his brows, making me chuckle.
“Ah, okay. Well, give me like twenty minutes with this, and I’ll be done. Want to head back to my place for beer instead, and I can grill us up something to eat?”
“Sounds good, Matty.”
* * *
“I’m grabbing another.You need one too?” Miguel stops in front of my fridge, his hand on the handle as he glances over at me.
“Sure. Thanks.”
I finish seasoning the steaks and head out to my back deck. The grill is turned on and ready to go, so I slap the meat down just as Miguel walks out, setting my beer beside me.
He rests his hip against the banister. “You never told me what ended up happening with that Grindr date from a few weeks ago.”
Rolling my eyes, I groan, the sound morphing into a chuckle as I grab the bottle and down a couple swallows. “It was a fucking shitshow, man.”
Arching a brow, Miguel asks, “How so?”
Miguel just got back into town from visiting his parents at the beginning of this week. He missed the mess that was my love life.
“The dude has a boyfriend.” His eyes go wide, and I add, “Yeah, of the live-in variety.”
“Damn.” He blows out a breath, taking a swig from his beer. “How’d you find that out?”
“Oh, it’s the best part. The boyfriend came home… while I was balls deep in this guy’s ass.”
My blood starts to boil even thinking about that day again.
Miguel cackles so hard, he’s bent over at this hip, slapping a hand on his thigh. “Shut the fuck up,” he says in between fits of lighter. “How does this shit always happen to you?”
“It does notalwayshappen to me,” I argue.
“You always pick the biggest douchebags to fuck. I don’t get it.”
“Oh, because you always pick such winners,” I toss back, rolling my eyes.
“So, what happened?” he asks, finally pulling himself together. He has fucking tears pouring from his eyes, for fuck’s sake. “Wait a fucking second… is that where the gash on your forehead came from? Oh, fuck, pleaseeee tell me yes.”
