Chapter 4
Chapter Four
F orza Elite Motors first customer of the day was a finance bro from New York City who wanted to explore the desert. After she sent him off with a Land Rover and a kiss of her fingers to the framed print of Saint Christopher, Mary stepped through the door into the shop. She d expected to find Michael, but there were two coverall-clad rear-ends poking out of Nick Cage s engine compartment. Prince s Cream blared from the sound system.
Mary switched it off. Rafe! What are you doing here?
Twin thuds on the hood told her she d startled them both. Her brothers turned, rubbing their dark hair.
How many times have I told you to ring the bell when you come in here? Michael growled.
The bell would ve startled you, too. Rafe, you re not supposed to be working with your hand. Let me see it.
Rafe hid his right hand behind his back and waved his filthy left hand. All good here.
She propped her fists on her hips.
Huffing out an exasperated breath, Rafe showed her his other hand. He d put a plastic baggie over the splinted finger. See? I m being such a good boy.
Don t sass me, or I ll make you drive on the night of Garth Brooks show.
You wouldn t, he grumbled.
I would. You d sit in traffic for hours, and you know how handsy his fans get.
Rafe shuddered. Sorry.
That s better. Now, where did you wander off to yesterday? I had to break down both booths by myself. It was lucky I ran into the Pollinzi boys. They helped me carry it to the truck.
Michael ducked back under the hood.
Just some pictures, Rafe mumbled.
Pictures? Wait, you didn t fall for one of those card slappers, did you? You know the girls on the cards aren t actually looking for dates.
No! Dammit, I m thirty-two, not twelve.
Then what do you mean by pictures?
They wanted to take some of me, okay?
Clothes on or off? Michael kept his head in the engine compartment, but his shoulders shook with laughter.
Clothes on! Clothes on, Ma. Rafe raised his eyes to the high ceiling and crossed himself.
But what about your hand? You left your splint on, right? Mary eyed it. The purple bruising was visible through the plastic bag.
It wasn t my hand they wanted pictures of.
Wait, what? Mary gasped.
My face! My face! He waved his splinted hand at his stubbled chin and red cheeks.
Mugshots? Michael s voice echoed from under the hood.
Rafe didn t dignify that with a response.
Look, their model didn t show, he said, and they asked me to step in cause I m about the same size as him. They gave me a tux to wear, and I stuck my hand in the pocket. No big deal.
Pictures for what? Mary surveyed her brother. He was cute, but she d never thought of him as model-handsome, especially with his cheap haircut and beat-up mechanic s hands. He wasn t even as good-looking as their other brother, Gabe, who might share their genes but had soft hands from working in an office. Alex, she heard, got his nails manicured and his hair trimmed every other week at his hotel s spa. He was a man who belonged in a photo shoot. Not Rafe.
Dunno. He ducked his head. Some promotional thing.
Did they pay you?
Not yet. They said they d mail me a check.
Mary shook her head. That was her brother Rafe, always stepping in to help someone and never looking out for himself. He d never see that check. How many more sales could they have made at the expo if he d been doing his real job at the booth so she could ve sold some wedding planning services? Enough to pay for his visit to the emergency room?
Like he d read her mind, he said, Sorry I abandoned you. How d you do at the expo?
I booked eleven parties, three wedding transports, and one conference VIP shuttle service.
Not bad. Michael backed out from under the hood and straightened his back with a grimace. How about the other booth?
She hated that his back was hurting. At almost forty, her oldest brother s body had taken a beating from working on cars since he was thirteen. He d supported their family for so long. If Mary could get her planning business off the ground, they could hire help and he wouldn t end up perpetually stooped, working himself into the ground the way their father had done.
She shook her head. Not great. A bit of interest, but no sales. I had to give a big one to Alex because the bride wanted more than I could offer.
Alex Villa? Michael narrowed his eyes as he wiped grease from his hands with a rag. You talked to that dirtbag?
We re cordial acquaintances. You should try it sometime.
But why? Rafe asked. After what he did…
We were friends before. It was my mistake to think we could be anything else.
It was his mistake to stand you up, Michael growled.
And you made him pay for it. Even though I asked you not to. She d been glad when Alex got his nose fixed a few years after she d come back from college. Every time she d seen the crooked ridge in it, it reminded her of the pain she d experienced that night.
Little shit, Michael muttered.
Rafe gave her that searching stare he always did when someone mentioned Alex. Like he was looking for the tiny piece of her heart that had broken off and still belonged to her former best friend.
He helped me at the expo yesterday. He talked up the planning business to potential customers even though he didn t know about it until he saw the booth.
Michael muttered something that ended with, in your pants.
Mary ignored it. Alex had no interest in what was in her pants, not when they were in high school, and not now. She was grateful he d crushed her hopes when he did. She d never have gotten over it if she d been the first of those poor women who paraded around on his arm for a month before he dumped her for the next pretty woman.
She checked her watch. Go home and rest, Rafe. Tonight s party is in Grace Kelly, and you pick them up at seven.
Rafe glanced at the classic black stretch Cadillac in the next bay. She s ready to go?
Just needs a final polish, Michael said.
I ll do it before I leave, Rafe said.
I got it, Michael insisted.
Leaving them to work it out, Mary stepped back through the door into the small lobby. Maybe she d send their mailing list a coupon code for her planning services. Alex didn t know what he was talking about. If offering a discount was the only way to make a sale, it wasn t selling herself short.
He d been the first one to show her she wasn t worth as much as she d thought.