Page 74 of Hurricane Love

“For you, always.”

Diego texted his cousin Arturito,as he’d promised his mother he would, and they agreed to meet up for lunch that same day, since Diego didn’t have to be at the pit until evening. Diego splurged and paid for a ride to the automotive shop on Starkey where his cousin worked, thinking he should probably start looking for a car soon and that maybe Arturito would know of someone selling something cheap.

Arriving at Wilson’s Automotive, he was temporarily relieved of the blistering midday heat by a blast of cold AC. The guy behind the counter glanced up at the jingling bell. About Wylie’sage, he sized Diego up from head to toe and said, snippy-like, “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Arturito—I mean, Arturo,” Diego replied.

“Is this for professional or personal reasons?”

Such a weird question. Was this guy, like, the owner or something? “Um, is that any of your business?”

“Yes, it happens to be my business because these are work hours.”

“Okay, but don’t workers get a lunch break?” Who did this guy think he was, anyway?

“Personal then.” His eyes narrowed peevishly and he rose from the squeaky desk chair. He walked over to the back door, taking his sweet-ass time about it, and yelled into the shop area, “Arturo,” while managing to sound like he was pissed off at him.

“Are you his boss or something?” Diego asked, disbelieving the guy’s attitude.

“Something,” he said, then sat back down with a flounce and started typing furiously on the keyboard.

Arturito slunk through the back door a few minutes later and smiled broadly at Diego, then gave the kid at the computer a tiny up-nod. “Chill, Elliot, this is my cousin, Diego.”

“I don’t care who he is,” Elliot said like he was incensed.

“You want me to bring you back something from Jenny’s?”

“No,” Elliot said tersely. “And let me remind you, your lunch break is precisely one-hour long.”

“A’ight then. Don’t miss me too much.” Arturito winked at Elliot, who only glared back at him with a thunderous expression. No love lost there. Diego opened the glass door for them both to exit and they strolled back out into the oppressive Florida heat.

“Are we walking?” Diego asked because he didn’t want to end up a sweaty mess.

“It’s right over there.” Arturito pointed to the diner that sat catty-corner across the street.

“Elliot’s wound a bit tight, huh?” Diego asked.

“Most def,” Arturito said with a sly smile, as if that were a good thing.

“He doesn’t seem to like you too much.” Not according to Diego’s observation.

“Yeah, we went to high school together. Middle school too. Apparently, I was a dickhead to him, so he makes my life hell now. He’s the boss’s son, so I gotta play nice.”

That seemed like an impossible situation. “Wereyou a dickhead to him?”

Arturito shrugged innocently. “I mean, no more than anyone else.”

“Well, good luck with that.”

Arturito nodded like he was completely unbothered by it. “Not gonna lie, I kind of like his bitchy attitude.”

From what Diego knew of his cousin, he did like to stir shit up, and Elliot seemed like the type to take the bait. After ordering their food, they chatted a little about sports, always a safe topic. Their family was extremely invested in a young phenom quarterback who was about to start his rookie season in the NFL. The kid came from a nice Cuban family in Miami and was a first-draft pick. Yet another example of Cuban-American excellence and a shining example of what they could all accomplish if they simply put their mind to it. They commiserated about the impossible expectations set by their family and then, once their food arrived, Diego dug into it.

“How’s living on your own going?”

“Mid, if I’m being honest. Miss my mom’s cooking, and Carolina isn’t around to bug me. Kinda miss that too.”

“Why’d you move out then?” As far as he knew, it was Arturito’s choice.