“I’ve been working there full-time about eight years now.”
I nod, but I’m not sure how this is supposed to go. I’m not good at actually talking to people. Small talk at the bar, shooting the shit, sure. But it’s easier to just joke around or talk about nothing. And honestly, that’s what I mostly do. Talk about nothing.
“So, was that your brother and your father at the shop the other day?”
The bowl Rafael washed is dripping water onto the counter below and my fingers itch to dry it. After resisting for as long as I can (about ten seconds), I reach past him, grab the dish, and dry it, irritated at myself for probably seeming prissy.
“I get those, uh, water bugs,” I say lamely. “Yeah, my brother Brian and my dad. Sam, my older brother, works there too.”
“Two brothers, huh. I always wanted a brother. I’m crazy about my sisters, but it seems nice to have brothers.”
“Three, actually.”
“What?”
“I have three brothers. My youngest brother, Daniel, doesn’t work with us. Actually, he just moved.” Why am I talking about Daniel? “To Michigan.”
“Oh, where in Michigan?”
“I don’t know exactly. Somewhere in the north. He’s an English professor.”
“That’s interesting. Where does he teach?”
“Um, I’m not sure the name of it,” I say, and it hits me for the first time, really, that Daniel lives somewhere in Michigan, but I don’t know where. I don’t have his address. I have his phone number, I guess. Unless he changed it. But if something happened to him, I don’t know where he is. Even though we’re not close anymore—hell, he drives me nuts—I used to be the one who looked out for him. And realizing that he’s out there, in god-knows-where Michigan, is… unsettling.
“Colin?” Rafael is looking at me, but I can’t tell if his expression is concerned or if he just realized that I’m a total asshole who doesn’t even know where his own brother lives.
“Huh?”
“I said I’ve never been to the Midwest.”
“Yeah, me neither.”
Rafael nods slowly and checks his watch. “I should go. How about I text you the address and the info for Saturday?”
“Sure.” I follow him into the living room. “Let me give you my cell number. I called you from the shop phone before.”
“What’s your last name?” he asks as he adds me to his phone.
“Already have another Colin in there, huh?” I tease, but he just shakes his head. Jeez, this guy has no sense of humor at all. “It’s Mulligan.”
“Okay,” he says. “I’ll be in touch. I think this is going to be great.” He pats Shelby good-bye.
When he opens the door, I almost don’t want him to go. This is the first actual conversation I’ve had—one that wasn’t about beer, sports, or music—in… well, in I don’t know how long, and I want to give him… something.
“Listen, Rafael,” I say. “Thanks.” He looks down at me and his open expression encourages me. “For asking me to do this and—and for the other night. You were right. I was getting my ass handed to me.”
A real smile this time, lips and crooked teeth and warm eyes.
“You’re welcome. Call me Rafe. Only my mother calls me Rafael.”
Chapter 3
WE’RE ON for Sat. 10-1. 11th & Mt. Vernon. Park on Mt. Vernon if you drive. The kids are really excited, Colin. Rafe’s text comes in just as I’m starting my last job of the day.
“What’re you smiling at?” Brian asks, trying to look over my shoulder at my phone. I quickly shove it back in my pocket and swat him away.
“Can you do some work for once, dipshit? Clean that crap up.” I point to the corner of the shop where Luther knocked over a bucket filled with burnt transmission fluid and threw sawdust over it to deal with later. But now it’s later and he already left and I’ll be damned if I get stuck with it again.
“Hey,” I ask Pop as we jack up an Audi, “how did you start explaining cars to us?”
“When you were kids? Christ, I don’t remember. I talked out loud about whatever I was doing and you boys were always there, so you listened, I guess. Why do you want to know all of a sudden?”
I shrug, distracted by how he looks a little unsteady as he works.
“Hey, you feeling okay?” I ask him.
“Yep, just felt a little dizzy.”
“I thought Sam said you had a headache earlier.”
“Eh.” He waves a hand, dismissing the subject.
“Uh, hey, listen, Pop, I need to take this Saturday off.”