Page 29 of Street of Dreams
“Ditch this town?” Jake leaned back. “Where are you gonna go?”
“I’m trying to do something with my music. I want a record deal, and I’m not getting it in South Side. I plan on going to L.A.”
Jake scoffed. “Good luck with that. Don’t get me wrong. You got talent. More talent than anyone in this town. More talent than anyone I know. If anyone deserves a break, it’s you. But people like us don’t make it. We’re South Side and don’t you forget it. We don’t get outta here. We’re stuck.”
“You’re wrong, Jake.” Mac shook his head. “I’m not sticking around. I got a nice little stash set aside. Things are looking up for me. I had my first gig last night at The Structure, and I was a big hit. I got rebooked for two more shows.”
“I’m happy for you. I am. I hope you do make it and prove me wrong. I would love to turn on the radio and hear you singing. I mean it. It just sounds like a pipe dream to me.” Jake cocked his head to the side and displayed a proud smile. “You played The Structure last night?”
“Yeah. Why don’t you come to one of the shows I have lined up?”
Jake paused. “How would that look? I can’t bring my brothers, and why would I go to a club to see you perform, alone?”
Mac rubbed his chin. “I have a show in a few weeks that’s not around here. No one there will know you. Trust me.”
It took a few seconds before Jake answered. “I’ll think about it.”
The ding of Mac’s cell phone interrupted his breakfast. He lifted his chin and looked at his phone on the opposite end of his small kitchen table. Jake’s name was recognizable on the screen, but Mac couldn’t read the rest of the message from where he was sitting. This was the first time Jake initiated contact by phone, so it stirred Mac’s curiosity. He scooped up his phone and read the message.
JAKE: I’m outside.
Jake was here? After the way he ditched his bike and wanted to hide under a hoodie in order to sneak into the apartment the other night, Jake was lingering in broad daylight? Mac gulped down his tea, left his half-eaten omelet on the table, and hurried to the door.
Jake stood with his back against the stockade fence, one knee bent with his boot against the weathered wood and his fingers tucked into the front pockets of his black jeans. He gave Mac a crooked smile and a onceover before motioning his head toward the driveway. “I need a hand.” He slowly pushed off the fence and started walking down the narrow path that lead to the front of the house.
“What’s going on? What are you doing here?” Mac asked, as he hurried to catch up to Jake.
Jake looked over his shoulder and displayed an adorable mixture of a smirk and a smile. “Stop asking questions.” He dropped the tailgate on his pickup truck and bounced a tire onto the concrete.
“What is this?” Mac asked, just as the second tire landed in the driveway.
“Do you have a garage to work in or do you want to do this right here?”
“Do what?”
Jake rolled his eyes. “Do I have to spell everything out for you? These are the new wheels for your Chevy.”
Mac eyed the new beefy tires, looked at his dilapidated old car leaking oil in the driveway, and then at Jake. “These probably cost over a grand. I can’t afford them.”
“Did I ask you for money?”
Suspicion made Mac uneasy, and a bad feeling settled in his gut. “Did you steal them? Wait. No. I don’t want to know. Take them back. I don’t want them.”
Jake placed his boot on the bumper of the pickup, rested his elbow on his knee and leaned forward. “I’m helping you restore your car. Remember?” he whispered. “That’s why I’m hanging around your house.”
It was the perfect excuse for them to spend time together, and Mac’s heart melted that Jake had thought of it. Except, Mac couldn’t accept the tires. “I can’t thank you enough for this. You have no idea how much it means to me that you put so much thought into finding a way for us to hang out together, but I can’t take these.”
Jake took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, they sparkled playfully. “I’m not a thief, Mackenzie. I didn’t steal them. Do you want me to show you the receipt?” Jake pulled a folded piece of paper from his wallet, but Mac didn’t take it.
“No. I believe you, but I still can’t take them. Tires like these cost an absolute fortune. They’re too much money, and I can’t afford to pay you back.”
Jake exhaled impatiently. “Did I ask you to pay me back? This is on me.” Mac started to protest again, but Jake cut him off. “There already paid for, and I’m not taking them back. Look, if anyone asks, just tell them you’re making money from playing clubs now and using some of it to fix up your car.”
It made sense. Mac did have extra income now, and he could tell people he was paying Jake to help him work on the car. It might be a stretch for some people to believe that he’d ask one of the Kings to help him, but it wasn’t that far-fetched. Jake was handy. And clever. Mac smiled and nodded. “OK. But I still don’t like the idea that you’re paying for the tires.”
“If it’ll make you feel better, you can pay me back when you’re a rich and famous rock star. Come on. Take these two, and I’ll get the other two out of the truck.”
They rolled the tires to the back, and Mac pulled his car into the garage, so they’d have privacy. Jake shrugged out of his MC jacket and went to work. Not really knowing what to do, Mac watched. His gaze drifted down the curve of Jake’s back as the guy squatted on his knees and switched out the first tire in a matter of minutes. Mac leaned against the workbench, his breaths deepening, while Jake handled the impact gun with ease and removed the bolts on the second tire. The way Jake manhandled the tire and rim, wrenching it from the axel with his bare hands, had Mac’s pulse hammering.
