Page 25 of Stupid Dirty

Most thirteen-year-olds would probably think they were too cool to read a kid’s book out loud, but I know from experience that Cade has a way of sucking you into stuff and making anything seem fun.

We had to squeeze to fit both of us on his not-quite-a-double bed to sleep after that. That small space felt crammed to the brim with people and life, which should have been suffocating. Especially since I’d never experienced anything like it before.

Instead, I slept better than I had in a very long time, squished against Cade’s warm body with the sound of theHome Shopping Networkseeping in from the living room. I hope he knows what he got himself into when he invited me into his world, because he’s not going to be able to pry me off him anytime soon.

It’s too late. There’s no way I’m giving this up now.

When Cade came up with the mechanic idea, he was buzzing with excitement. It was kind of cool to see someone get thatexcited about my future. I didn’t have to believe it would work out.

I also half-figured Cade would forget about it by the next day, because he can be flaky like that. But no.

As soon as we woke up this morning, his buddy had replied to his text, and now it’s less than twenty-four hours since he had his eureka moment and we’re pulling up to a modest little shop sitting by itself, just off Rt 140.

There’s a small hook-and-chain tow truck parked out front, an office building attached to the garage, and what looks like a house sitting on the land behind it. Everything is clean and well-kept. The roll door on the garage is still open, even though it’s late, and inside I can see several cars in varying states of repair, as well as a couple of bikes.

“Some people drive to Mission Flats to go to Jiffy Lube or whatever because it’s cheaper, but Ford’s dad really knew his shit. He did restoration stuff on the side that I think brought in a lot of money. I don’t know if Ford’s into that or if it was just his old man, though.” Cade keeps up his chatter as we park up and he leads me into the building.

Most auto shops I’ve been to are loud. There are a lot of machines, and also a lot of people shouting and swearing, a radio on, customers coming in and out, etc. It’s a cliche, but it’s true. This place is still. I kind of like it.

There’s more space than I thought at first glance, with some good-quality equipment. Whatever this guy’s doing, he’s obviously making enough money to run a tight operation, which makes me feel less guilty about Cade trying to strong-arm him into hiring me.

Now that I’ve seen the place, I can feel myself getting invested in the idea. My fingers are already itching to work on an engine. It feels peaceful out here.

“Yo, bitch! Where you at?” Cade shouts into the ether, chewing gum casually like it’s not obnoxious to call people ‘bitch’.

The guy that walks out of the office entrance is not what I was expecting. For one thing, he’s fucking scary. Built like a brick shithouse, with hands that could probably crush my skull. Long, dark hair that’s tied up in a sort of messy man-bun situation, which I also didn’t expect, and a scowl on his face that seems pretty permanent. There’s a gnarly-looking scar running down his cheek, but a dark beard covers enough of it that I can’t tell what it might be from.

He’s wearing dark coveralls, but the sleeves are rolled up, revealing tattoos covering both his arms. But where Cade’s tats are intricate, almost delicate, Ford’s are dark. It’s black on black, covering every inch of his skin like it’s not meant to be a pictureofanything.

He raises an eyebrow at Cade, which would be enough to cow most people, but Cade keeps grinning.

“Ford, this is Silas. I’m sure you two will immediately hit it off over your mutual distaste for social interactions. Once you hire him, I’ll be taking bets on just how long you can go without speaking to each other. I’m thinking at least six months.”

Ford nods, his expression softening like this sounds good to him. Slipping his phone out of his pocket, he types something out with a lot more dexterity than I’d expect from hands that big. As soon as he’s done, he holds up the screen to show me what he wrote.

Cade’s been blowing up my phone all day. Normally I wouldn’t want to encouragehim being such a prima donna, but tbh I could use some help. You have experience?

I give him a quick rundown of what I can and can’t do, as well as the shit I’d like to learn if this is potentially going to be my career. With every word, the idea of it becomes more real and more appealing. I can actually see myself here, having a future, which is not something I thought I’d ever say.

Ford nods along as I talk. His expression is still severe, and I can see why Cade says people find him terrifying. But I’m getting the feeling that might just be his face. I can relate.

Sounds good. I can show you some info later if you want to get your license. You’re hired, as long as you swear you’re not as talkative as your buddy. I’ll work on his bike, but I am not spending a whole day with Nicki Minaj over here.

“Okay, rude,” Cade protests next to me, but I ignore him.

“That’s it?” Technically, I’ve never had a job interview before, but I’m pretty sure they’re supposed to be harder than this.

Ford sighs, pointing to his message again. Oh.

“Yes, I promise I’m not chatty. Cade calls me ‘robot boy’.”

“It’s true.” Cade grins again. “He’s incredibly dull. You’ll love him.”

A loud exhale of breath through his nose is the only response that gets from Ford. He pulls his phone back and types out onemore message to show me before dismissing us and turning back to his work.

Be here Monday at 8. Leave the brat at home.

But Cade is laughing as we head back to the truck.

---