Page 6 of Boy Issues

Chapter Three

“Yo, Silver. Wanna grab a quick beer after we’re done?”

Silver glanced up from where he was scrubbing the grill and regarded his longtime buddy, Nico. His friend had helped get him the job at the diner when Silver had decided he needed to moonlight. While Mr. Jenkins paid extraordinarily well when he had a project for him to work on, those jobs could be sporadic. At least his deal with the guy included the small apartment above the garage, but it didn’t pay the rest of his bills when there was no work.

“Not tonight, but thanks. Boss man told me he’s got a sixty-four Morgan four by four being dropped off early in the morning. I might have to restore this one from the ground up.” He shrugged. “I’ll have a better idea when I see it.”

Nico snapped the lid closed on the salad bin then made his way to the walk-in. “I have no idea what that is, but it sounds expensive. And I don’t get it. Why does he bother with them when they’re that beat up?”

Nico disappeared into the cooler. Silver chuckled as he finished up and took the scouring brush and towel to the designated wash sink. Once he got everything rinsed out well, he’d put the brush away then toss the towel—along with all the others they’d used that night—into the laundry bag for one of the owner to pick up in the morning.

The rest of the staff was responsible for their aprons, but one of Ray’s sons, who now owned the diner, would take care of anything else. For most of Silver’s working life—which had begun when he was quite young—he’d worked either for his family or other family operations. Corporations weren’t his thing. As it was, he hated not being the one in control. But that wouldn’t last forever. He already had a plan.

He might only be twenty-six, but he’d been putting money away for quite a while. That was another reason for the second job. One he had enough, he’d start his own classic car restoration business, and he’d be the boss. Getting hired by the stupidly rich Carl Jenkins as his exclusive mechanic hadn’t been a fluke.

Silver’s reputation as one of the few guys who could make a seemingly hopeless case into a show-worthy vehicle had brought Jenkins to the door of the old garage where Silver had been employed since he was eighteen. His former bosses had been pissed that Silver had left, but slaving away as one of their ratchet and wrench drones at fifteen bucks an hour for the rest of his life wasn’t in line with Silver’s goals.

The combination of the five to ten thousand guaranteed per vehicle—depending on the shape the car was in when it arrived—plus ten percent commission if he sold it instead of adding it to his collection—had been too sweet a deal to pass up. Saving for his dream would take much less time than he’d originally thought. Instead of having to wait until he was thirty, he’d been frugal enough that one more year to freedom no longer seemed out of the question.

“Damn, it’s fucking freezing in that thing.” Nico reappeared from the walk-in, blowing into his hands.

Silver shook his head, chuckling as he washed his hands so he could get out of there. Nico was short like Silver, but not bulked up at all. He was more of a video game fanatic than a workout freak. Yet another thing great about the huge garage where Silver lived. Plenty of space for the pieces of gym equipment he’d managed to pick up at garage sales over the years. Anything extra, like a monthly gym membership, would cut into his savings.

“We ready?”

Silver untied his apron then flung it over his shoulder the way he always did. Nico’s gaze traveled to their workstation, then he nodded.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

The servers and bussers had left about fifteen minutes earlier, so it would be up to Nico and Silver to lock up. Another nice thing about working for a Mom and Pop was the more chill way everything was approached. At least the places where Silver had always worked.

The lights in the dining area had already been turned off, so Silver flipped the switches on the panel for the kitchen and hallway to the back door. He set the alarm then shoved his body against the rail of the heavy barrier, emerging into the warmth of the late spring air.

Silver came to an abrupt stop at the sight of the dude with the Lamborghini from the night before, Nico crashing into Silver’s back.

“Damn, bro. You forget something?” Nico peeked around Silver then moved to his side. “¡No manches! (No way!) Check it out. Homey’s got the luxury wheels.”

Silver snorted. “Yeah. Doesn’t he though.”

What a pretentious prick.

The guy—Donovan?—was inexplicably parked in the lot, leaning against an electric blue Corvette. If Silver was correct in guessing, and he was damn sure that he was, it was a sixty-three and cherry. Maybe the guy thought that since the Miura hadn’t worked, maybe this one would. What the asshole didn’t understand was that he wasn’t impressed. He’d not only seen—but been intimately acquainted through his tools—with more wet dream performance cars than Mr. Money Bags could possibly imagine.

“Goodnight, Nico.”

“The fuck?” Nico hadn’t stopped gaping at the car. “Aren’t you gonna go take a look at least?”

“Oh, I’ll take a look. Right after I give this dick a lecture about playing with fire.”

“Huh?” Nico wrinkled his nose at him. “You know this guy?”

“Not in the way you think I do.” Nico had known his orientation for years. His friend had been the one by his side for support when Silver had come out to his surprisingly accepting, staunchly Catholic parents. “Just some fuckwad who assumes I can be bought.”

Nico snorted. “Fuck man, I’ll be gay for pay if it comes with that ride.”

Silver smacked his friend’s arm. “Don’t be an ass. I’ll catch you later, I gotta go put this pinche culero (fucking idiot) in his place.”

“Could you do that after I drool all over his car?”

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