Page 4 of Burn It Down

Dave’s Discount Mart is the only place that carries these anymore and I haven’t yet decided if the trip was worth the hassle. My dad flashes me a thumbs up, but doesn’t emerge. He’d forget to eat most days if we let him.

Pushing my way into the office, I see my sister typing something in the computer, and I hoist my bags up onto the counter next to her.

“Hey, Cass. Could you check the books and tell me when I can fit in a front quarter panel replacement on a Maserati?”

She looks up in disbelief. “You’re joking, right? You guys have jobs from here to Christmas.”

I’m grateful for the work and glad we’re not struggling to make ends meet like a lot of the places around here thanks to the rise in crime, but a day off every now and then would be cool.

“Yeah, well, this one’s gotta get done. I sort of backed into this douche who wasn’t watching where he was going. The Screaming Eagle did a number on the front-end.”

Cassie laughs, shaking her head and rolling her eyes as she starts flipping through the books. She thinks it’s ridiculous that I name my cars.

“If you put that McLaren on holdandif I can get the parts, you can do it next Thursday, but you’ll pulling fifteen-hour days through the weekend.”

I sigh. “Nothing new there. Thanks, Cass.”

“What year?”

“Shit. I don’t know. Looked new. I’ll text him and ask.”

Cassie nods and goes back to work while I carry the groceries into our small breakroom.

He typed his name into my phone as Jacob Ellington. I redid it and laugh when I pull up the contact.

Dylan 12:48pm

Hey, this is Dylan from Ryder Automotive. What year is the Maserati?

Maserati Douche 12:50pm

Hey Dylan. It’s this year’s model.

Dylan 12:51pm

Ok can you bring it by next Thursday?

Maserati Douche 12:52pm

Sure. What time?

Dylan 12:53pm

Doesn’t matter. I’ll have to keep it a few days though.

Maserati Douche 12:54pm

Okay. I’ll bring it by around 4.

The rest of the week, weekend, and start to the following week all pass by in a blur. I’ve lost most of the friends I had because I’m never free to hang out. I’m at the shop all day every day.Yet vandals still catch it during the hours I’m not here.And by the timeThursday rolls around it’s as if only twenty-four hours have passed.

I’m elbow deep in an engine block with my favorite rock band, Beautiful Deceit, blasting through the shop’s Bluetooth speakers when I see a flash of white in my peripheral vision. I shake my head.Who would buy that car in white?I quickly reign in the judgment, knowing all too well how it feels when people think they know you based on your name, your skin color, or what car you drive.

The memory of the car I backed into comes to the forefront of my mind quickly and I register the man who reminds me of a Calvin Klein model emerging from the driver’s side door.

His lean physique — like all he eats is salmon and broccoli — his light brown hair, dark brown eyes, and clean-shaven face all screamtrust fund. He’s in another suit. The way it hits his wrists and ankles makes me pretty confident he had it custom tailored. I have to admit his jawline is sharper than mine.Maybe if mine looked like that, I wouldn’t hide it behind facial hair either,I muse.

Wiping my hands on my pants, I walk to the open garage bay to greet Jacob Ellington.

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