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“Hey,” I call out when she’s in earshot. “You look great.”
April blushes. “Thanks. I’m glad you like the outfit.”
My friend’s eyes flame as she gets in.
“I more than like it, honey. But tell me, was it expensive?”
She giggles.
“No, I just got it on sale at one of the big department stores.”
“Good,” I growl hungrily. “Because we’ll be ripping it off you at the first chance we get. But first, burgers,” I say.
With that, we pull away from the curb only to arrive at Blast-A-Burger in about ten minutes. It’s one of my favorites despite the cheesy name because their hamburgers are actually good, unlike the mystery meat patties everyone else seems to serve these days. Plus, the décor is kitschy in a good way. They’ve done it up to resemble an old-fashioned diner you’d see in a 1950’s movie, complete with black and white tiles on the floor, worn red-leather booths, and a jukebox blaring oldies in the corner.
“Oh, wow,” April exclaims when we walk in. “This place is amazing!”
I grin.
“If you think the décor is cool, just wait until you taste the food. You’ll never eat anywhere else, I swear.”
She giggles.
“Well, my standard for burgers is pretty high, so I don’t know about that.”
Dylan merely swats her ass with a large hand.
“Really? You like burgers?”
She nods.
“I adore them. That’s why I have so many curves!” she exclaims.
Looking around first to make sure no one’s watching, I then skim a finger over a protruding nipple, my mouth going dry as it stiffens even more.
“Good, because we love your curves, sweetheart, and can’t get enough. Order as much as you like,” I growl.
At that, April squeals as we choose a booth, and soon, an older, middle-aged waitress comes over with menus.
“Welcome to Blast-A-Burger!” she chirps. “Can I get you folks started with some drinks?”
April smiles up at the older woman. “Sure, that sounds good. Do you have any recommendations?”
The waitress winks.
“Well, if you’re in the mood to indulge, we have a special on the drinks menu tonight: the whipped cream milkshake. Instead of milk blended with ice cream, we use whipped cream instead. Doesn’t that sound amazing?”
April’s eyes go wide and she nods furiously.
“Yes, definitely. One for me, please, as well as the Blast-A-Burger SuperBurger Special.”
“Coming right up. Gentlemen?”
“Same for me,” I say.
“And me too,” Dylan echoes.
With that, the waitress nods and saunters off as April sighs happily.
“Imagine that. A milkshake made of ice cream and whipped cream mixed together! It must be pure heaven, and it would make for a perfect ice cream flavor too. It’ll be perfect when I open my own shop.”
Dylan and I exchange a look.
“What do you mean?”
April blushes and hesitates. “Well, I have this dream to open up my own ice cream parlor one day. I want it to be old fashioned like this, with a juke box and a black-and-white harlequin floor, and I want to spell it to be named April’s Ice Cream Shoppe. But not “shop” as in s-h-o-p, but rather “shoppe” like s-h-o-p-p-e. So it’s old-fashioned and cute.”
I nod, impressed.
“It’s great that you’re entrepreneurial, and I’d definitely come by to taste your new flavors.”
She smiles wryly.
“Well, we’ll see if it ever happens. After all, I only have a high school degree and a minimum wage job right now. It’s not looking very promising for me, to be honest. I mean, how many high school grads do you hear of who become successful business people?”
Dylan and I pause for a moment, exchanging a glance.
“Well actually, sweetheart,” my friend in a smooth voice. “Frank and I don’t have college degrees, but we run an extremely successful body shop.”
April tilts her head at us curiously before tucking a brown curl behind one ear.
“How did that happen? Do you mind sharing? Of course, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
I shake my head.
“Dylan and I were friends in high school because we had a mutual love for cars. In fact, we even met during shop class, so after high school, we both got jobs as mechanics. It was fine, but it wasn’t going anywhere, to be honest. As a result, after a couple years we pooled our resources and started Lube It All,” I say simply. “The business has taken off, and we’re gratified that our hard work paid off.”
April giggles. “Oh right, I think you mentioned that your garage is called Lube It All. That’s such a funny name though! It’s pretty sexual-sounding too.”
I grin. “Yeah, but it expresses exactly what we mean. Our specialty is fast oil changes, but we can do it all, as well. We’ll do engine repairs, body work, or whatever is necessary to get your car up and running in tip-top shape.”
April nods, awed.
“That’s impressive. I don’t know much about cars, but you fixed mine up after our little interlude on the road. How could you tell me it was a total goner, and then repair it in fifteen minutes?” she teases, swatting at my arm playfully.
