3. Wylie #2
Diego drained the fryer while Wylie put away the clean dishware, pots, and pans.
There was an easy rhythm to their duties, staying out of each other’s way while communicating the next task.
Some closers were lazy as hell, and Wylie ended up doing everything himself because of their inability to take in initiative or follow directions. Diego was competent. More than.
Once the kitchen was clean, they moved to the front of the house with Wylie stacking chairs while Diego followed behind him with the mop.
Studying Diego now, Wylie sensed the man didn’t want his pity.
Diego was proud, certainly, and self-contained, though Wyle wondered how much of that was sincere or only manufactured.
Wylie had leaned heavily on Nancy and Hannah after his mother’s passing.
Did Diego have some people of his own? A partner?
Friends? Therapy? Frank had given him the job, so they must be on good terms. Even still, the man seemed a little lonely.
“What?” Diego asked under a hooded brow when he noticed Wylie watching him a little too closely.
“She started her own beauty and lingerie line, Rihanna did. It’s called Fenty, which is her real name, Robyn Rihanna Fenty. She’s a billionaire now.”
Diego looked thoughtful for a moment, mulling it over, and then said with a small smile, “Good for her. Hope she’s happy. Still, be nice to have some new music.”
“Hard agree.”
They closed together a few more nights and it was strictly business.
Whenever Wylie asked Diego what music he wanted, he always chose some 2014-2018 era pop or hip-hop.
When Diego learned Kendrick Lamar had released a couple new albums, he wanted to hear those too.
Then Wylie caught him up on the beef between Kendrick and Drake, playing a timeline of their 2024 summer feud via their discographies.
Diego seemed interested in Wylie’s perspective on pop culture, which he gave freely, but whenever Wylie tried to get any crumbs of personal information from Diego, his reticent coworker withdrew and went silent.
Too bad for Diego, a broody man was like catnip to Wylie. He was practically the king of I Can Fix Him.
The one connection they made was when Wylie wore his graduation cap to work, having just been awarded his undergrad degree the day before from the University of South Florida.
Nancy had thrown him a party at the trailer park, and on a whim, Wylie decided to wear his cap to work the next day, figuring it might help him get bigger tips.
It was then that Diego initiated conversation for the first time.
“What’s that all about?” the man asked gruffly and gestured to the cap with his gloved hand as if bothered by its mere presence.
“I just graduated,” Wylie said with a shit-eating grin and turned his tassel to the other side, recreating the moment for his coworker. “With honors.”
“Oh yeah? What’d you major in?”
“Public Policy and Administration. I want to go to law school.”
Diego’s eyebrows quirked and he seemed surprised by that.
Wylie didn’t take it too personally. A lot of people, including his own classmates, thought he was a fuck-up due to his propensity to run his mouth, and they were usually surprised to learn he had actual goals and ambition.
In fact, he’d gone to college on a full scholarship and maintained a nearly straight-A average.
It helped that he had Nancy to review his papers, but even that was a hell of a lot more ethical than some of his classmates who relied extensively on AI to complete their coursework.
“You take the LSAT yet?” Diego asked.
Wylie nodded. “Last summer. Got a pretty good score too, top ten percent.” Wylie didn’t want to brag, but he was really proud of his achievement, especially after all the work he’d put into preparing for the test. “See? I’m more than just a pretty face.”
“Hmph,” Diego said, not commenting on that last part, though there was the barest hint of a grin. “So, when does law school start?”
“Don’t know yet. I got waitlisted for UF. I’m hoping to hear from them soon, but if I don’t, I’ll probably start applying to some other places.”
“Is that the only school you applied to?”
“Yeah, they have a good program, and it’s a lot cheaper for Florida residents than other places. I don’t want to be too far from home.”
The University of Florida was just a two-hour drive north, a straight shot up I-75, which meant that Wylie could come back to visit some weekends.
Nancy would argue that she didn’t need him here–Hannah would too–but Wylie knew differently.
And he knew himself well enough to know that being far away from family would make things harder.
Diego’s face softened, and his usual grumpy demeanor transformed into something almost winsome. “That’s great, man. Good for you.”
Now it was Wylie’s turn to be surprised. Who was this man? Was it just his imagination or was Diego actually… kind of a sweetheart?
There was a depth to Diego that Wylie was eager to plumb, but it was going to take some time.
He’d need to be patient with the man, earn his trust, take things slowly, which was not his usual speed.
Luckily work gave them plenty of opportunities to get to know each other without the pressure of anything other than friendship developing.
He did catch Diego checking him out on occasion, when he thought Wylie wasn’t paying attention, which meant the man was gay or bi-curious.
Wylie’s gaydar was a finely tuned instrument, honed from years of sussing out and seducing supposedly straight men.
Emma had attempted to shoot her shot with Diego and received a polite but firm rejection.
Word on the street was that she wasn’t the only one. Promising.
Yes, Diego Abarca was truly the sword in the stone, and it would take one courageous Wylie Sommers to unlock the man’s latent sexual urges, but he was taking his time with it and letting the anticipation build.
Also, he was pretty sure Diego might reject him on principle, and then he’d have to give up this game entirely.
During their fifth night of closing, Wylie got some insight on Diego’s family dynamic when Frank stopped by the pit to empty out the safe.
Most of their transactions were electronic, but any extra cash leftover at the end of the night went into the safe.
Wylie knew the code, as did Diego and a couple other closers.
Frank changed the code regularly, and sent it out to them via group text.
Wylie was finishing up with some dirty pots and pans since their dishwasher that night was a no-show, and he paused spraying to listen in on their conversation better.
Through the residual cloud of steam, he saw Diego kneeling on the ground, draining the grease from the fryer while Frank hovered over him.
Judging from Frank’s demeanor, Wylie thought Diego might be in trouble, but no, Frank was just inviting him to an upcoming family dinner.
Diego appeared to be intently focused on the oil as it passed through the strainer and into the funnel below, beneath which a big, plastic bottle stood ready to catch it.
Or maybe he was just trying to avoid Frank’s aggressive stare as he waited for a response.
Once the oil had narrowed to a mere trickle, Diego finally said to his uncle, “I can’t, Uncle Frank. I got plans.”
“Plans? What plans?” Frank asked in a tone Wylie recognized–displeased and with a hint of suspicion, like when Wylie added too many ribs to a pork platter.
Diego straightened and glanced over at Wylie as if he didn’t want him overhearing this exchange. Wylie didn’t bother pretending he wasn’t paying attention. Whatever happened in the kitchen was fair game, everyone knew that. Frank grunted and said, “Your mom wants you there, Diego.”
“I talk to my mother every week. Sometimes more than once.”
Frank crossed his arms over his big barrel chest and stared down at the younger man in a posture clearly meant to intimidate him. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to accomplish by avoiding us. Unless you’re using again?”