“I’m borrowing his pickup.”
I scoff. “Yeah, right. Good luck with that!”
“With a face like this? Babe, I don’t need luck.” He winks, taking the face mask off as he goes. I shake my head and turn back again, picking up the machine to start back up where I left off when Jude mutters something under his breath.
“Sorry?”
“Uhm,” he clears his throat. “I’m sorry, this is so not my business, but he’s gay, right?” he rushes out.
“Seth? Yeah, he is.” I frown. “Why?” Not sure where this is going, and I swear to god, if I find out I’ve spent months tattooing some homophobe, I’m going to be so fucking—
“Uhm, is he single?”
5
Seth
“You’refuckingwithmenow, Diaz?” Kit’s voice rumbles through the garage.
The smell of gasoline and turpentine seeps into my nose as I walk around a pillar and catch Kit pinching the bridge of his nose. Diaz’s leaning against his bike, arms crossed.
“Sorry,papi,” he says, shrugging slightly. “Marisol’s homesick.”
“Marisol?” Kit says. “You’re moving 700 miles for some chick you’ve known for, what? Two months?”
“Five.”
“Fuck!” Kit throws a rag on the seat of a black Ducati, sighing.
I walk up next to Diaz. “When are you leaving?”
He turns to face me, and clasps a hand on my shoulder. “Hey,muchachito! Next month.”
“Next month?” Kit barks. “As in… next week?” Diaz shoots him a smug grin in answer. “You’re killing me, Diaz. You’re killing me.”
I nudge him with my shoulder. “Where’re you going?”
“Santa Cruz, baby!” he exclaims, throwing up his hand for a high five. I raise mine but then I pull a fast one and smack him where it hurts. He bends over and wheezes before he snarls a laugh, straightens and puts me in a headlock. I kick his shin until he lets go, but then he swirls around and puts me in a chokehold instead.
“Mm, yeah, choke me, Daddy,” I faux-moan.
“Pendejo!” He laughs and lets me go with a flick to my head.
I laugh. “You know I love it when you talk dirty to me.”
He ruffles my hair and places an arm around my shoulders.
I don’t know how we ended up here—I was terrified of him when I first started here. With the buzz cut, ears filled with piercings and the snake tattoo covering most of the left side of his neck, and his huge build, he looks so much scarier than he is.
But I guess I’m one to talk. I know better than anyone that looks can be deceiving.
“Next week,” Kit mumbles again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And you thought a week was enough of a notice?”
“You’ll be fine,jefe. You’ve got Chip and Dale,” Diaz says, referring to me and Kaden. “AndBichito,” he adds, meaning Iggy.
You could probably make a whole new dictionary of all the nicknames he’s given us over the years. Always coming up with new ones. But Chip and Dale somehow stuck. He says it’s because you never see one without the other. It’s always me and Kaden together.
Kit sighs and crouches down in front of his bike again. “Fuck you, Diaz,” he says without any heat.
