Boy Issues - Morticia Knight
Chapter One
“’Night, guys.”
Silver waved at Miguel, the lead cook at Ray’s Diner. Miguel grunted and gave him a dip of his chin as he carried the container of shredded potatoes for the morning’s hash to the walk-in. Silver couldn’t remember the name of the kid who’d just been hired at the late-night restaurant where Silver moonlighted five nights a week, but he acknowledged him as well. The front staff came and went with startling regularity.
As he bumped the long metal door rail with his hip to push his way through the rear door exit, he yanked his apron over his head. The stained garment would need an extra good soaking after his mishap with a tub of spaghetti sauce, so he’d have to grab a clean one from home before his next shift.
Silver let out a sigh and rolled his neck. What a fucking long night. Mr. Jenkins, his boss at the garage, had dropped off a fifty-eight BMW Roadster early that morning, and Silver had been pulling it apart all day. The engine was in carefully arranged pieces next to the now-gutted frame, so he’d been in almost constant motion. Every muscle in his body ached, and the soles of his feet protested the unfairness of it all.
Silver made his way to his ride that he always parked at the end of the asphalt parking area, beneath a streetlamp. The part of Glendale the diner was located in wasn’t as bad as Los Angeles area neighborhoods went, but almost anywhere was suspect when it came to classic sports cars. His baby was a tricked out sixty-seven Mustang in candy apple red, so discouraging thieves was something he always took into consideration.
As he drew closer to his vehicle, he noted someone bent under the hood of a car at the curb of the sidewalk that ran adjacent to the lot. Silver made a low whistle. His attention wasn’t on whoever seemed to be having mechanical issues. What drew his gaze and held it in an iron grip was the chartreuse Lamborghini Miura that seemed to be beckoning him to her side.
Silver could come from the sight alone of such a rare beauty. All thoughts of sore feet and aching muscles disappeared.
“Having problems?”
The man who’d been examining the car’s engine rose too quickly and banged his head on the underside of the hood. Silver winced. The excitement of seeing an actual Miura for the first time in real life, instead of in the glossy pages of a magazine, had clouded his judgement. It was after midnight and creeping up on a stranger with a vehicle worth six-digits or more wasn’t cool.
The stranger eyed him with suspicion as he rose to his full height, rubbing the back of his head and taking a step back. If the tall, lanky man kept going, he’d end up in the middle of the street.
Silver raised his hands, palms out, in a calming gesture. Even though the handsome, older man was at least six inches taller than Silver’s five feet, eight inches—he was slim. The fitted dress shirt he wore accentuated his thin frame and the T-shirt Silver had on did nothing to hide his bulked up, tattooed body. Silver could tear apart this guy with minimal effort, and the man undoubtedly knew it.
“Hey, it’s all good. Didn’t mean to startle you.” Silver held up the apron he’d slung over his shoulder. “Just got off work at Ray’s.”
The man’s gaze traveled in the direction Silver had indicated. His slack jaw snapped shut and he cleared his throat.
“Ah, yes. Sorry.” He gave a shaky laugh. “You caught me unaware, which isn’t like me.”
“Nah. I’m the one who should be sorry.” Silver shrugged. “I’ll admit your wheels caught my eye and I got ahead of myself.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the car. “That’s a sweet ride.”
The stranger ran a hand across the top of his head, and Silver realized he was still quite nervous. Being Latino in the city meant that most white people, doubly so if they were clearly rich as fuck, would automatically assume he was a gang member or up to no good. His numerous tattoos and the ear gauges probably contributed to the man’s stereotyping of him. But Silver’s typical irritation at that fact was tamped down by the clear predicament the man seemed to be in.
The stranger still hadn’t said anything and kept glancing around as if seeking an escape route.
Silver pressed his lips together as he rubbed his forehead.