Page 7 of For the Record

“Don’t tell me they lost again, Coy,” Greg groaned, tossed the paper to his desk, and unwrapped his breakfast sandwich.Almost as an afterthought, he grumpily added, “Thanks for breakfast.”

Coy smothered her laugh, taking long breaths in through her nose to try to appear somber. Razzing her dad was one of her life’s greatest perks. “They fought hard, Pops, but those last few plays were …” Coy shuddered. “Nobody was coming back from that.”

“Goddamn, and I missed it! I should have given Ma a firm no when she asked me to come over. Surely, the front door repair could have waited another day.”

“When have you ever been able to say no to my nana?” Coy pulled the chair out, the metal frame scraping against the tiled floor. She plopped down, leaned back in the seat, and rested her dirty boots on the edge of his desk. Cracking open her coffee, she took a drink and smiled as she watched her father. Greg was still muttering under his breath, angrily chowing down on his sandwich as he rifled through the paper to the sports section. “Besides, live life each day like it’s your last, right? No regrets—that’s what you taught us. Nana’s not getting any younger.”

Their eyes met briefly before Greg nodded once and went back to the paper, “Oh, I know it, kiddo. And she’s slowed right down since your papa passed.”

Coy nodded, hating to hear the truth out loud. “I’m hoping to pick up a few more odd jobs this summer to help with the updates on her house. She’ll have the stairlift in no time, Pops, then she can move her bedroom back upstairs.” She had scored a few shifts at the bar over the winter, and although it wasn’t her thing, she would work every night if it helped her nana out. The problem was that Frankie often didn’t need more staff, and it didn’t bring in money fast enough for Coy’s liking.

“Well, you know I appreciate the help with Ma’s medical bills and the renovations Coy, but please don’t work yourself to death, okay?” He gave her a pointed look. “Try to enjoy the summer.”

Coy smiled but said nothing. Helping her father get a stairlift for Nana and a ramp to her front door was the least she could do. Family stuck together. “Has Nana given any more thought to moving into community care?”

“You know she can’t bear to give up the farm. She’ll likely drop dead one morning feeding the chickens.”

An unpleasant image of her nana’s hens plucking at her corpse came to mind, and Coy let out a shudder. “Jesus, Pops. Next time, give me a ring, yeah? If I’m not busy, I don’t mind driving out to help.”

“At least Ma gives you notice when she wants you for something,” Greg grumbled good-naturedly, raising his face again but this time to give Coy a wink. “You end up with a cooler worth of freezer meals.”

“And pie. Don’t forget the pie. Oh! And ice cream.”

“See? Spoiled rotten.” Greg stilled for a moment, his face scrunched up in confusion at whatever he was reading. When it finally registered, Coy sniggered as her dad’s surprised gaze flew to hers across the desk. “Are you fucking serious right now? The Jays didn’t lose! Talk about giving your old man a heart attack!” Then he laughed his big barrel laugh, the one where he held his gut at the same time and threw his head back.

Coy loved watching him like this, so happy and without a care in the world. He’d been dealt a tough hand after their mother died, having to raise rambunctious twins while still mourning the loss of his wife. Besides Sloane and her nana, he was Coy’s favorite person in the world.

“It was intense. I watched it at the bar with Sloane while she was working. She said to tell you that ‘Bo played a rockin’ game,’ whatever that means.”

Greg chuckled again, his hazel eyes lighting up. “That girl and her bets, I swear to God. I guess I should be grateful neither of you got involved in some shady gambling ventures growing up.”

“Nope, our family bets keep us pretty busy,” Coy joked, biting into her own sandwich. She ate her sausage, egg, and cheese on an everything bagel because she loved how the onion seasoning on the bagel blended nicely with all the other flavors. Not to say she’d turn down a different sandwich if she was handed one. Eating was one of her top five pastimes. Working on cars, biking, hanging with friends, eating food, eating pussy …

Coy smirked, unable to help herself. When would she evernotlove doing that?

“Well,” Greg said, finishing the last of his coffee and tossing it in the garbage. He stood up and slipped into his coveralls. “We best get to it, kiddo.”

Nodding, Coy stuffed the last of her breakfast in her mouth before grabbing the box of donuts she’d picked up for the guys. She followed her dad out of the office.

“Morning!” Chip, her dad’s oldest friend and employee, just about barreled into her as he made a beeline directly to the donuts. “Oh, kiddo, you’re too good to us old fellas!” Chip boomed jovially, clapping Coy on the back as he stuffed half a Boston cream into his mouth.

“Yeah yeah. Watch the wet clothes around the food.” She smirked, eyeing his sopping jacket. It had been raining steadily since late the night before. When Coy had checked the weather online, she’d been disappointed to discover it wasn’t supposed to clear until the following day.

By 7:55 a.m. J.D.,—Coy’s cousin and Greg’s part-time technician and receptionist—showed up ready for the workday. By eight, the first two customers were pulling into the parking lot. Coy lived for the hustle of a busy day but learned long ago to treasure the lulls, too. It was there she tinkered with different engines in the back of the shop or read up on new makes and models. She was always learning, always looking for a problem to solve. It was the one thing she loved most about being amechanic—putting her tireless curiosity and logic to good use. And of course, ladies loved a handy soft butch who knew their way around an undercarriage.

“Oh, erm, sorry there, girlie, but when I booked the appointment, I’d asked for McCoy specifically,” a lanky, middle-aged man named Troy informed Coy. She had been about to drive his Mercedes-Benz into the service bay when he’d bolted out of the reception area, hot on her heels.

Coy looked at him blankly, raindrops pelting down over the bridge of her worn outMiller Mechanicscap and waited for him to notice her name tag. It was stitched into her coveralls in big red letters. Maybe it was time she spoke to her father about new, flashier uniforms. Troy, with one massive hand on the driver’s door, continued in a firmer voice, “Nothing against you, honey, but the guys down at the office said he’s the best mechanic in Richmond.”

There weren’t many things that could set Coy’s teeth on edge. She believed she had a fun-loving personality and looked at life as a glass half full, but she fucking hated it when men called her pet names. Whether they acknowledged it, the expression was condescending, and it pissed her off.

”IamMcCoy.“ She pointed to her name written as proof, and scowled when his gaze dropped to her chest. Yup, new uniforms were in order. She was seriously tired of the same old shit. Maybe a new cap with their names printed on the front would work. “Now can we get on with it?”

“You’re McCoy? Thebestmechanic in Richmond?“ A disbelieving laugh escaped Troy. He stood taller and straightened his suit. “I’m sorry, I’m just surprised is all. Honestly, I thought you were …”

“A man? Nope, sorry to disappoint. Now, it says here you’re scheduled for an oil change and a …” Coy paused, glancing at the clipboard in her hands before adding, “a second opinion.”

“Erm, yeah, my usual mechanic said I needed new rotors and a caliper, but you know what? I can probably just wait around until someone else is available.”

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