Page 2 of Summer Lovin'

“Man, we saw your ride and thought we were seeing a ghost. When did you get into town?” Frankie leans against his door, folding his massive arms over his chest.

“A couple of days ago.”

“You’ve been in town a couple days and haven’t come by to see us,mijo?” Paco slaps my shoulder with his meaty hand. While he’s always been good to me and my family, treating me like a third son, he’s no stranger to trouble. Hell, he was giving us our first beers and teaching us to hot wire cars.

I shrug. “I spent the first day catching up with family and sleeping, and yesterday tuning up my truck, changing the fluids and tires and whatnot. You know, the usual.”

“She looks good. Have you had her under a tarp the whole time you were gone?”

“Yeah. Saint started her up every couple weeks for me, but I told him if there were over twenty-four miles added while I was gone, I was going to skin him.” I smack Frankie’s arm. “Jesus, man. You’re huge. Have you been confined to a yard?”

“What would they have been arrested me for? I’ve always been an angel compared to you fools.” He flashes a cocky grin.

“How about stealing parts off of cars on the south side?” I chuckle, throwing the chilies into the passenger seat.

“Never happened if you don’t get caught.”

Shaking my head, I take a walk around the Nova and Impala. “These are nice. Is this the old Impala you got right before graduation?”

Jesus nods and jumps into the driver’s seat. “This is my baby, Black Betsy.” He cranks the engine, the veiled torque shaking the ground under my feet.

“She sounds tough. How many horses she got?” I come around to the front as Paco lifts the hood.

“A little over four hundred.”

“Damn.” The engine block is spotless. The chrome air filter cover glinting in the afternoon sunlight. Braided cable lines are new and ready to be drooled over.

“How long are you back for?” Frankie arches his brow.

“Two weeks.”

“And then what?” Paco asks.

“I got orders to Colorado. I’m going to drive the truck around for a few days, tune it for the elevation, and then ship her out west.”

“Colorado?” Jesus scrunches up his face. “Are you going to become a skiing cowboy or something?”

“Nah, man. He’s going to smoke that good weed out there.” Frankie laughs.

I shake my head and shove my hands in my pockets. “I’m military, so even if it’s legal there, it’s not legal for me.”

“Ah, man. That sucks.” Frankie matches my stance, shoving his hands in his pockets. “What are you doing tonight? Come by the house and drink some beers with us.”

I can feel Mrs. Patel staring at us from the store. “I can’t tonight. Maybe this weekend?”

“No can do. We’re heading to Mountain Ridge for a car show this weekend.” Paco says “You should come with us and enter your truck. The whole car club is going to be there.”

“The cHevy Hustlers are still going strong, huh?”

Frankie scoffs. “More than strong. We got over five hundred members in a two hundred-mile radius—all with Chevys from the 50s, 60s, and 70s. We’re so big now, people have to sign up to show with us.”

“We even got merch.” Jesus flashes me a key chain with the logo we drew up when we were sixteen years old.

“No shit? And you got an invitation to Mountain Ridge Resort?”

“Those prissy bastards can’t keep us out—we’re too big. And it just so happens we have room for a ‘54 Chevy truck in our lineup,” Paco adds, clasping my shoulder.

I sigh, looking at my ride. She’s been neglected over the years.

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