Page 50 of Pride High 2: Orange
“Where have you been?” Marti demanded, dragging him back to the present. “Do you know how much work is piling up around here?”
“Then maybe you should hire a mechanic,” he shot back. “Oh wait.”
The latest new hire was probably upstairs sucking on a beer. His mother had a bad habit of dating the employees, which always ended in disaster. She was crazy as hell too, eventually chasing them all off. The shop never had enough help because of it.
“I don’t want any of your smart lip!” Marti said, pointing a finger at him with a long vicious nail at the end. “Get to work!”
It was better than standing around here talking to her. Diego walked deeper into the shop where he found Jasper, an old black dude, nodding off in a chair in the back. The man was ancient, but also the only person Diego could rely on. Jasper had been with them since way back when his father was still alive. Everyone else that worked here then had given up and left ages ago. He didn’t know why Jasper stuck around. Maybe he needed the money or was too damn old to find better work.
“Hey,” Diego said, nudging his chair with a foot.
Jasper even woke up slow. He blinked and looked around before wincing and rolling a shoulder. “Quittin’ time?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Diego said. “I’ll take it from here.”
“Good, good,” Jasper said as he stood. “I can stay around a little longer though, if it helps.”
“Naw. It’s okay.”
He did more work than anyone else ever did, aside from himself maybe.
“I managed to get the Jeep parts installed,” Jasper said. “And I made a start on the Honda, but I couldn’t get my hands to…” He flexed them in demonstration. They didn’t move much.
“Thanks,” Diego said. “See you tomorrow.”
“See ya, son.”
Diego watched him go. Then he walked around the shop, taking note of everything that needed to be done. Not just today, but tomorrow as well. “Fuck,” he said under his breath, wishing he was still driving around with Ricky and talking shit. Anything was better than this, because once he was done working, he’d have to go upstairs and deal with his mom, or sleep in his dad’s office again. Both hurt. Just in different ways.
He managed to get the Honda done before Bruce showed up. Diego made sure to apologize to his wife right in front of him before offering a discount. That seemed to do the trick. Four more cars needed his attention after that.
At half past eight, his stomach wouldn’t stop complaining, so he got in his car and drove to the nearest fast-food joint, using the drive-thru before parking so he could eat. Night had fallen, the windows of the restaurant glowing with little people trapped on the other side, like some sort of bizarre television show. He watched a family of four as the adults fussed over a map. Next to them, a little kid played with the new toy he’d gotten with his meal. His little brother was leaning against his dad and had already passed out, probably soaking the man’s shirt with drool.
Diego stared at them as he chewed, wondering how much longer the good times would last before they were forced to wake the hell up. He remembered how his mom used to take him out for a personal pan pizza before everything went south and how safe he used to feel around her. Marti was a different person now. They both were. Maybe she hated him for being a living reminder of how things used to be. He didn’t like to be around her either. That’s why he usually chose to sleep on a hard couch that was too small for him while surrounded by the scent of mechanical grease.
Diego often questioned why he kept the shop going. Probably because it was the last piece of his father that hadn’t died yet. And never would. When he moved to El Paso, Diego had plans to open a new location there. He’d be able to run things his way, without his mother ruining everything or her stupid boyfriends leeching off of them while doing absolutely nothing. Speaking of which, he’d have to bust his ass tomorrow to get the Charger finished. The owner was a real hothead. What a shame it would be if Diego was too busy after school. His mom’s new boyfriend would have to start pulling his weight if he didn’t want to deal with the Charger’s owner, who had previously thrown a tire iron across the garage over a simple billing mistake. Maybe that would be enough to scare the freeloader off. If his mom tried to blame him, Diego would tell her to call the school.
One lame-ass audition. That’s all he would have to suffer through. But he was only doing it if Ricky would go with him. Diego grabbed the rearview mirror and angled it to look at himself, trying to figure out the mess of feelings beneath the surface. He wasn’t sure what to think. All he knew was that being around Ricky made him feel cool.
CHAPTER 12
December 9th, 1992
Silvia wanted to see Anthony again. She had lost too much sleep recently, imagining all the ways that she could potentially hurt Omar, her guilt increasing along with her confusion. She didn’t know if she loved him, but she did care enough that she didn’t want to lead him on. Or hurt his feelings simply because she wasn’t sure. About any of it. So she had decided to find out.
Silvia kept an eye out while navigating the school halls that led to the journalism classroom. Anthony was easy to spot along the way. He was tall, which helped, but the bright red hair really made him stand out. Her heart began to beat faster. Out of nervousness? Or more? She hurried to catch up with him and grabbed his hand to get his attention.
“Huh?” Anthony said, jerking it away in surprise. He smiled when recognizing her. “Silvia! You go to this school too?”
“I know,” she said with a laugh. “We see each other here so rarely that it’s easy to forget.”
“Easy fix,” Anthony replied. “Let’s take an elective together next semester. Or better yet, you can switch your lunch period to be the same as mine. Although I bet Omar has already begged you to do that.”
“He may have mentioned it once or twice,” she confirmed. “Hey, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”
Anthony moved toward the side of the hall, stopping next to an open door. She could already see Mindy and Ricky sitting inside at different tables. Silvia turned her back to them, stepping to the right so they wouldn’t see her. She was facing Anthony now. His fingers—painted nails and all—were toying with a lock of dyed hair, his face serene as he waited for her to begin.
“My boss, Lester,” she began before shaking her head. “You know who he is. Anyway, he’s very excited about the music reviews you wrote.”
