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“Oh my gosh, Livy, get over here.” He waves me forward, walking my way, and embraces me in a long time, no see hug. The smell of sweat and grease brings back memories of my dad coming home after a long day’s work. Artie isn’t my uncle by blood but you’d never know the difference. He was like my dad’s penguin. Of course, bros would never say some sentimental shit like that. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m just passing through on a comedy tour. I thought I’d surprise you.” When really, I surprised myself.
“Mission accomplished. And perfect timing. I’m heading home for dinner now. You’ll come with me?”
“Yeah, sure.” I tug on my ponytail. “But I’ve got a friend with me.”
He cleans off his wrench. “Okay. Bring her too.”
“It’s a guy. Nick. He’s headlining the tour.”
Artie raises a brow and peeks over my shoulder. “Uh-huh. And where is this Nick guy?”
“He’s outside. I asked him to wait there.”
“Well, don’t be rude. Introduce me to your friend.” Artie makes a beeline for the exit, ditching the friendly smile he sported for me. Uh-oh.
I chase after him, pulse racing. I should’ve prepared Nick for this. “He’s my colleague so be nice to him.”
He makes a clicking noise with his tongue. “Why wouldn’t I be nice?”
Growing up, Artie took the protective role when it came to boys I was hanging out with. Probably because my dad was always chill about them as long as they didn’t interfere with my studies and brought me home on time. Artie always had resting gangster face, giving my boyfriends a hard time, almost verbally hazing them. “Are you trying to scare my boyfriend away?” I’d complain, and he’d say, “Mija, if he can’t take a joke then he has no business being with you. You should be thanking me.”
Outside the garage, Nick leans against his Jeep, taking a long drag from his cigarette. When he spots us, his eyes bug out and he ditches his smoke. I run ahead, beating Artie to the punch. “Artie, this is Nick. Nick, meet my Uncle Artie.”
My road buddy offers his hand. “Good to meet you, sir.”
Artie takes it without a sliver of a smile. “Uh-huh.”
I smack Artie’s arm. “Be cool, Tío.”
“We’re just talking,” Artie remarks gently, then turns back to Nick. “So you and Livy will come to my house for dinner tonight.” It sounds less like an invite and more like an order.
“Yes, sir.”
