I move out from underneath the hood of the Hemi ‘Cuda and reach for a bottle of water.
“Damn, it’s hot under there!”
“Six months at the new job and already you’re a pansy,” Jeff ribs good-naturedly.
“Pansy, my ass! Stables are just a lot bigger and cooler than this rinky dink garage.”
“I guess the next time you need to work on your Mustang, you’ll just have to find a fancy garage to work in, then, won’t you?”
“Who are you kidding? That car is cherry, man! She doesn’t need any more work.”
“It looks cherry, but I happen to know the guy that restored it. Freakin’ pansy. Hell, that thing could fall apart on the road somewhere in BFE.”
“Not gonna happen. I hear he’s brilliant.”
“A brilliant pansy?”
“Yep.”
“And humble, too. Or so I hear.”
“Seriously, Rusty,” I begin. I’ve called my best friend, Jeff Catron, “Rusty” ever since his freckles started coming in around the third grade. Even though he’d long since outgrown them, the nickname stuck. “I just don’t know if a fuel injection system is gonna work with this model. I don’t think it’s gonna fit, bro.”
Rusty growls and runs a hand through his dark red hair. “Seriously?”
“You’re the expert. You should know. I mean, I could be wrong, but I just don’t see it happening.”
He sighs. “I thought it was worth a shot. But I think you’re right. I knew if there was anybody that could make it work, though, it’d be you.”
“The brilliant pansy?”
Rusty grins. “The humble brilliant pansy.” He wipes his hands on a towel and comes around to lean up against the grill of the ‘Cuda. “I gotta check out a car for a guy tonight. Out in the field. You coming?”
I shake my head. “You’re not talking me into this again.”
“I’m just asking in case I run into trouble with it. It’d be nice if you could at least be there. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need you, man. This could be a big deal for future restorations, though. This kid comes from money. I helped out a friend of his and now he’s willing to give me a shot. Who knows where it could lead?”
Rusty’s dream since we were kids has been to be a world-class muscle car restoration expert. I know his garage makes good money, more than enough to pay the bills, but he has dreams.
Just like I had dreams.
“If I let you sucker me into this, you owe me, Rus. Big time.”
Rusty nods. “Done. Anything.”
I sigh. “All right. What time?”
“9:30.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
His face breaks into a huge smile.
How do I let him talk me into this shit?
CHAPTER FIVE - Cami
“Jenna, you should totally get that, especially if you want to make a little extra money,” I say as she twirls in front of me.
She stops spinning and stares at me, confused. “Make a little extra money? Huh?”
“Sure. If I had some singles, I’d be trying to stuff a couple in your g-string right this minute.”
“Oh. Ha. Ha,” she says caustically, turning toward the bank of mirrors behind her. “Is it that bad?”
“Good Lord, Jenna! That skirt is so short I can see London, Paris and France from right here.”
Her lip pooches out in a pout. “Well what about the shirt?”
“Shirt? Is that what you’re calling it?” Although I do like the soft pink color and the lettuce edge, the top needs at least two more inches of material to not be considered one half of a bikini.
“God, when did you become my mother?”
“When you started dressing like a stripper,” I tease with a wink.
Jenna’s shoulders slump. “Is it really that bad?”
She isn’t finding my teasing funny, which isn’t like her at all. She usually gives as good as she gets. “You know I’m just picking on you. It’s just…different. That’s all. I love the color and the trim. And the skirt is really cute, it’s just a little shorter than stuff you usually wear. That’s all. Who are you trying to impress anyway?”
She comes over and sits in the chair beside me. “Trevor and I have dated since our freshman year in high school. I know he loves me, but lately, I can’t help but feel like I’m losing him a little.”
“And this is how you plan to win him back?”
“Of course! What hot-blooded American guy doesn’t love a stripper?”
“For the night, maybe. But for longer?” I look at her skeptically.
“So you’re saying I shouldn’t try to spice things up?”
“Spice things up?”
“Yeah. You know, spread my sexual wings a little.”
“Exactly where are your wings located?” I kid as I look down at her short skirt.
She flips me the bird.
“Jenna, I’m not saying that at all. You know I, of all people, have zero advice to give. I’m just saying if it’s a temporary thing, fine. But if you feel like you’re losing him, like if it’s an emotional thing, I don’t think this is gonna help. At least not long term.”
She screws up her face and sticks her tongue out at me. That’s the Jenna equivalent of Cami, you’re right.
“You’re so smart it makes me sick.” She shoves her shoulder against mine in that gentle way that friends do.
“Have you talked to Trevor about any of this?”
Jenna wrinkles her nose and shakes her head.
“You should, you know.”
“I know, but it’s not that easy.”
“Well, find a way. He’s a nice guy. Maybe it’s fixable.”
“I hope you’re right,” she says, sighing. Jenna stays slumped in her chair like Eeyore for a few more seconds before she perks up. She looks at me. “You totally get me, you know?”
“I know. And it scares me.”
She grins, which is always a good sign. “So, stripper or no?”
I laugh. “Maybe one night as a stripper wouldn’t hurt anything.”
“And it might be fun.” She waggles her eyebrows comically.
“All right, all right. Settle down. I think we’re about to go into territory that makes my brain bleed.” I have a strict policy about Jenna grossing me out with her TMI tendencies.
“You shouldn’t think of it that way, Cam. You should look at my life as your own personal ‘What Not To Do’ manual.” She turns to me with a wicked smile in place. “Of course, it more often serves as the ‘What To Do’ manual.”