Boy Issues - Morticia Knight Page 0,19
chica.” He darted his eyes in Carl’s direction. “Not sure what’s up. I’m off at the diner, but he might want me to test out one of the cars at the track. You know, open her up for a potential buyer or something.”
“Okay, let me know.” She bumped fists with him. “See ya.”
She nodded at Carl in passing, but he barely acknowledged her.
What a dick.
He wasn’t a huge fan of the guy, but the work paid well.
“Whaddya think, Silver? Got an idea how long this one will take?”
“Hi, Carl.”
Carl was rude on his best days, but Silver refused to let him—or anyone else—get away with bad behavior. He threw down the rag he’d been using to wipe off the grips as thoughts of Donovan invaded his thoughts. He’d been battling that unwelcome shit all morning.
“Yeah, hi.” Carl crossed his arms, and without bothering to make eye contact with Silver, stared down at the array of parts from the Morgan that Silver had spread out on the concrete floor. “What a mess. Anything missing?” He finally glanced up.
“Missing? Yeah, there’s plenty missing.”
The guy really had no clue. Silver had offered to help him when it came to choosing the best candidates for restoration, but he’d refused. Silver doubted it had anything to do with not trusting Silver’s judgment. More likely it was linked to his fears that Silver would steal his contacts or deal hunting methods or something. People like Carl tended to assume that others had dishonorable intentions—if they themselves did also. Carl Jenkins would never be able to comprehend how important Silver’s integrity was to him.
I bet Donovan can’t either.
Silver gritted his teeth as he batted his errant musings away.
Carl scratched his day old, gray stubble. He was one who’d spent many years being baked and cured in the sun, undoubtedly spending much of his long life out on the track or in his driveway tinkering with cars. Silver noted the ever-present black grime beneath Carl’s raggedy nails. He’d never once seen the man’s fingernails clean.
“Well, that’s unfortunate.” Carl frowned. “What are we talking about here? Cost-wise?”
Silver took a deep breath to give himself a chance to couch his reply so Carl wouldn’t be inspired to punch him in the face. He’d been through this so many times with the man. For whatever reason, Carl couldn’t grasp the concept that rare classics, especially the type he preferred, weren’t that simple to get restored. Silver couldn’t exactly phone the nearest auto parts store, give them the list then get the parts Fed-Exed the next day.
“Carl, here’s the situation. A Morgan is difficult to find parts for on a good day. But this model? Even harder. As it is, I’m still putting a list together of what I need. And even then, I’m flying blind.” Silver shook his head, letting out a humorless chuckle. “As you know, I can usually find comparable parts from other models, but…” Silver placed his hands on his hips. “I’m going to be digging through a lot of junk yards and making a lot of calls.” He locked eyes with a scowling Carl. “This one’s gonna take a while. At least five or six months. And that’s not a guarantee either.”
“What?” Carl glared at Silver, his face flushing red. “I told my buyer it wouldn’t take longer than two tops! I can’t have my money tied up in this thing for that long, especially if I have to fork over for a bunch of damn parts.”
Silver splayed his fingers, stretching them so he couldn’t ball them into a fist instead. He took another deep breath before replying to his deluded boss.
“I’m sorry, Carl, but you should’ve consulted with me first. Properly restoring this vehicle so you can sell it to a collector at top dollar is going to take time.”
Carl took a step and got in Silver’s face. He wasn’t much taller than him, so they were almost eye to eye.
“I should’ve consulted you?” He stabbed his finger into his own chest. “I’m your employer and you do what I tell you to do. Nothing more.” He took a step back, glaring at Silver. “Don’t get confused about how important you are. LA is filled with grease monkeys.”
Silver shoved his hands into his pockets before he could do something he’d regret. “Got it.” Silver kept his gaze locked on Carl. “Then what do you want me to do?”
Carl waved his hands in the air wildly. “Get the damn parts! What the hell do you think I