The Boys Who Loved Me - Krista Wolf Page 0,69

they could be replaced easily enough. The tracks the doors ran on were still intact.

“It’s bare-bones for sure,” Warren said, taking everything in. “But it’s definitely doable.”

Adrian nodded. “The power’s already run out here. It’s just a matter of turning it on.”

“We’d have to move the lifts over,” Warren confirmed. “It’d be a pain in the ass, but they’re ours anyway. But there’s plenty of room here for tools, equipment, work spaces… much more than we have right now.”

“The office area is perfect!” Luke coughed excited from above. “It’s in need of a serious cleaning, but other than that—”

He slid down the staircase by resting his arms on the banisters. Flying into the garage area, he dusted himself off.

“We could probably get this place cheap,” Warren said.

“Dirt cheap,” Luke added. “That realty sign is basically falling off the marquee. It’s been listed forever.”

I smiled, folding my hands in front me. And that’s because I’d called the number on that marquee, first thing this morning.

“Wanna know how much?”

Forty-Eight

ADRIAN

“This place looks phenomenal!” my father cried. He scratched at about three days worth of beard growth, moving through the garage with slow, measured paces. “Even better than when Tommy was running it!”

I couldn’t tell if he was being flattering or he actually meant it. There were a lot of things about my father I didn’t know, like how he liked his coffee or where he pulled the word ‘phenomenal’ from. Or even why he seemed to be walking with a slight limp. It occurred to me I hadn’t seen him walk since I was a kid. In my only real memories, he was young and strong and indestructible.

“And this place is part yours?” he asked.

“No. It’s Warren’s and Luke’s.”

“Bullshit,” Warren stepped in. He wiped the grease off his hands with a semi-clean rag before reaching out to shake my father’s hand. “Your son’s partnering up and throwing in with us,” he grinned. “Or didn’t he tell you?”

“He told me something like that,” the old man replied. “But why in the world are you moving?”

There was hesitation in his answer. Rather than come up with something — anything at all — Warren just looked at me and frowned.

“An opportunity came up,” I said. “Tons more space, over at the old drive-in theater.”

“The Starlight?”

Shit, I didn’t even know the place had a name. If it had, I’d never noticed. Absently I wondered if it had fallen off the marquee decades back.

“Yeah, well the price is right,” Warren said helpfully. “And although it’s a little out of the way, the location would pull in a lot of business from Greyridge.”

My father rubbed thoughtfully at his chin. “Stone Falls too.”

Damn, the old man knows his stuff, I thought to myself. I guess he’s been here long enough.

“That’s what we’re thinking, yeah,” I finally replied. “They sent over the contract last night. We were just looking it over.”

“So you’ve decided for sure then?” he asked, sounding a bit disappointed. “I just got out, and suddenly you guys are moving away?”

“It’s not that far,” I protested. “It’s just out of town.”

“And like Adrian said,” Warren chimed in, “we were running out of room here, so…”

He tried sounding confident as his voice trailed off, but my father was too shrewd. I saw his eyes narrow as he studied Warren’s expression. He wasn’t buying the answer.

“There’s a little bit of a turf war here too,” I admitted, “and it was heating up a little.”

Hey, if I was going to have a post-prison relationship with my father, I might as well start off with some honesty.

“Oh yeah?”

I nodded. “This place still does vintage renos, but a couple years back it started doing more standard body work to make ends meet. That didn’t go over well with the locals. Specially, Payne Collision.”

“Payne Collision…” My old man’s brow crossed for about three or four seconds before recognition dawned. “Wait a minute. John Payne?”

“His son actually,” said Warren. “But yeah.”

“What have they been doing?”

My father looked suddenly angry. It wasn’t a look I’d seen on him since… well… maybe ever.

“They’ve sent messages here and there,” I said, trying to shrug it off.

“Fuck that,” Warren snarled. “They’ve broken in and stolen shit like thieves in the middle of the night. Parts. Accessories. Entire cars, even.”

I winched at the ‘thief’ comment, but either my father didn’t hear it or he glossed over it. He was searching his memory. Tapping a finger against the side of his cheek.

God, it was so weird seeing him here like this! Standing