Page 6 of Ice Mechanic

“No, absolutely not,” I agree.

“So, I was hoping you could maybe pop on by and help me service the thing.”

“Of course. I could come over right now.”

“Well, see, the thing is…”

Unease spreads through me. “Yes?”

“You know Gunner’s uncle, Stewart Kinsey?”

I bristle.

“He’s who we usually work with. It’s nothing personal. It’s just that I don’t want to step on Gunner’s toes, the team being one family and all…”

Unpleasant memories roar up in my head, bringing the taste of bile. I actuallydoknow how territorial the Kinsey family can be.

“Are you asking me to fix it on the down low, Bobby?” I ask quietly.

“If it’s no imposition, I’d mighty appreciate that.”

Something about the request rubs me the wrong way. I don’t relish feeling like a thief sneaking through the back door for a job, but it’s so difficult saying no to Bobby. He’s such a sweet soul. Besides, we need the money.

“Alright. Text me when the coast is clear and I’ll come by.”

“Neat. Thanks, April. You’re the best.”

Rebel’s voice sounds behind me, “Who was that?”

“Just another timid customer who doesn’t want the Kinseys to know they’re calling us.” I turn and shake my head at my best friend.

She scowls. “You’d think the Kinseys own this town the way everyone’s scared to get on their bad side.”

“On the bright side, everyone loves an underdog,” May says. Tapping her bicycle, she grins mischievously. “Are you heading out now? Want a ride?”

“No, thanks. I’ve still got some stuff to do around here.” I pinch her cheek. “Ride safe, squirt.”

“Stop calling me squirt. I’m twenty-one.”

“Still a squirt.”

“Squirts can’t legally drink.”

“Legal squirts can.” I wink.

She groans and mounts her bike. “See you at home, you doof. Later, Rebel!”

Rebel grunts, focused as she is on the car.

For the next few hours, we work together to diagnose the problem. We’re making great strides so when Bobby texts me the last thing I want to do is leave.

Rebel offers to go in my place, but I reject it. First of all, she doesn’t want to leave in the middle of a diagnosis any more than I do. Second, I don’t want her knowing about Bobby’s request or she’ll throw an absolute fit.

“Be back soon,” I say, waving and grabbing the keys for my personal truck.

“Aren’t you going to take the company car?” Rebel asks.

I freeze halfway to the door. My eyes fly to the bright pink car that we invested most of our savings into re-painting. Rebel was convinced it could act as a mobile advertisement but she’s the only one brave enough to ride around in that ostentatious Pepto Bismol on wheels.

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