Jump the Gun

2. Daddy's Sweet Thang

LEVI

The sound of the car rumbling to life puts a smile on my face. "Yeah, baby!" I slap the hood, grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat from my brow.

My Camaro had quite the night against that fucker Ajay Winslow. I'll admit, he's good. Clearly not good enough to beat me, but alright.

"Sweet Thang's still alive?" Joey Riva sends me one of his signature smiles as he enters the garage, wearing his same old baggy jeans, complete with oil stains, and a wife-beater.

"She refuses to die," I respond, taking a seat on one of the metal stools near the tool shelf.

"She's just like me," Joey chides, grabbing a hammer from a bucket on the garage floor. And if that isn't the truth. Joey's probably come face to face with death more times than I can count on all of my fingers.

I furrow my eyebrows at him. "What the hell do you need that for?"

He twirls the tool in his hand, whistling to himself as he makes for the exit. "Stuff."

I curse under my breath. "Riva, don't you dare go to Winslow's and stir up more shit. Got it?"

"Yes, Dad," he teases, sauntering down the drive. "Don't worry. My business is my business. And it has nothing to do with stuffy little Ajay Winslow or his pathetic garage."

"Nothing illegal?" I press further, standing and wiping my hands on my pair of navy blue mechanic pants that this place came with.

"Can't make any promises, boss." He winks. "Catch you later." And then he's gone, headed down the road to do God knows what.

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. Sometimes, I feel like a father. To a bunch of man-children. To be fair, I'm part of the problem, but I'm not the one initiating fights with the Knights every week.

That's Joey's forte.

I've known Riva since middle school when his family moved here from Colombia. For a new kid, he wasn't quiet in the slightest. He picked up English quickly, learning a bunch of crass ways to insult the teachers who wouldn't let him leave to go take a piss every class.

From that point on, he'd become one of my best friends. Neither of us had the typical friendly nature, which is why we got along so well. He was practically the only one there when my parents died sophomore year of high school.

After that, I went to live with my Aunt Beverly a town over. I got a variance to stay and finish out high school here. I saw the guys a lot less because of the short distance, but we fell back into our familiar rhythm right after graduation, buying this place and all.

Racing has become my life, aside from my upcoming classes at AHU. The thrill it gives me doesn't compare to anything else I've experienced. Which is precisely why I spent the entirety of inheritance I got from my parents to buy this garage.

My friends and I liked racing back in high school, but we never had the means to actually create our own atmosphere. We mostly just started shit with Winslow and took our parent's old cars out at night.

Paine's Garage has been up and running for months now, and we've finally got a steady flow of customers and repairs to accumulate the money to cover the costs of our own racing needs. Such as fixing up old Sweet Thang.

Running this place also means that my life has kind of been put on hold. Sure, I love to race. But it's like everything in my life revolves around cars. I guess it could be worse. It could revolve around cars and girls like my friends' do.

Usually, I like a good challenge in a woman. Chase them for a while until they get too attached. I just never seem to find interest in anyone here. That was, until the other night.