Like Coffee and Doughnuts. Elle Parker
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’Vette, where I could just make out Seth moving around inside. I waited a few more minutes and checked my watch. Nothing happened.
“Come on,” I muttered through clenched teeth.
I was about to make my move when the car finally roared to life. It was loud as hell. If we hadn’t been noticed before, we certainly would be now. Seth clearly understood the same thing, because he didn’t bother backing out slow and quiet, he just whipped it out of the parking space and wheeled smoothly around to the parking lot entrance.
I turned and stepped on the clutch to pull out after him, when a blurred figure exploded out the door of the apartment building and streaked past me. It was a young guy, mid-twenties or so, with short blond hair and a button-down shirt only half on, flapping around him as he ran. I guessed this was Darryl Serrano. He hollered after the Corvette, using quite a lot of colorful words, but his hands were empty, which was a relief. If he had a gun on him, he’d have pulled it by now.
What he did next surprised me more than a gun would have. He was really moving and started to chase down the car. I pulled out on the street in time to see him catch Seth at the intersection when Seth slowed to make the turn.
Darryl launched himself into the air and landed on the hood of the ’Vette in a flying tackle, screaming and pounding on the glass. Seth snapped the front of the car toward the curb and stomped on the breaks, rolling the guy off onto the grass, then streaked away with a squeal of tires. I imagined he enjoyed the hell out of that, and I didn’t expect him to sleep for two days.
With Seth out of danger, and long gone, I drove along slowly as if I was a mere passerby. I kept an eye on Serrano while he picked himself up and limped back toward the apartment building, swearing and waving his arms. He picked up a beer can and hurled it at the block of mailboxes on the lawn.
Once he was inside, there wasn’t any reason for me to hang around, so I stepped on the gas and drove back to the garage. I wasn’t the least bit surprised I was the first one to get there, and I already had the car cover out and ready when Seth finally pulled in, some kind of heavy bass beat making the windows throb.
He didn’t get out of the car right away, and I could see him inside thrashing around to the music, so I supposed we were going to wait out the end of the song. I leaned against the door frame and folded my arms over my chest, grateful I was on this side of the glass.
When the song ended, he drove the car around back where we’d decided to stash it. I followed him and met him climbing out of it.
“Fuck, Dino, is that a sweet ride,” Seth said. He grabbed an edge of the cover and helped me drape it over the car. He was practically bouncing. “Are you absolutely sure we have to give it back?”
“Ah, that would be a definite yes,” I said, grinning. “We have to give it back. Trust me when I tell you you’re going to like the Chevelle a whole lot better. Personally, I think it completely outclasses this thing even with a fried engine.”
“Yeah?”
“No question.”
We got the Corvette stowed away, and Seth was still crashing around as if he had downed a can full of sugar. I was extremely grateful I’d pulled rank on that one.
“Driving that car really got you wired, didn’t it?” I asked, watching him shadowbox a Firestone Tire sign and then kick it right over.
“Are you kidding? I’ve had a boner for half an hour. I’m completely jazzed right now.”
I had to ask.
Since it was only one thirty and the paperwork could wait until morning, I said, “Well, you’re gonna have to handle the hard-on yourself, but I’d be happy to take you down to the Oar House and buy you a few beers to settle you down.”
He gave me an absolutely predatory smile. It made me a little weak in the knees, and I was prepared for one of his offhanded come-ons, but instead he just said, “You’re on,” and jogged halfway down the sidewalk before coming back to walk with me.
Chapter 6
I woke up the next morning feeling moderately hung over, and pissed when I realized I’d left Matilda at the garage and was going to have to walk to Seth’s in that state. My new place was only eight blocks or so from him, but there’s no amount of walking I want to do on a bright and sunny morning with a hangover.
Turns out, it had taken quite a lot of beer to calm Seth down, and not only had we closed out the Oar House, but we’d walked over to the Backroom Bar which tends to do a lively after hours business. Seth and the bartender dug out a pile of bartending guides she’d printed off the internet, and amused themselves by making every drink that had a dirty name. I wasn’t allowed to leave until I’d thoroughly discussed the merits of Sex on the Beach versus a Screaming O. Since I chose to be a good sport about the whole thing, they rewarded me with an amaretto Sweet Pussy, which was actually pretty good.
My cellphone was on the nightstand next to me, so I grabbed it, figuring I could call Seth and make him bring the car to me, but it went straight to voicemail. Irritating little shit.
I crawled out of bed and into the shower where I washed off the bar smell and cigarette smoke. Then I went to the kitchen and brewed coffee while I dug out the biggest mug I could find. If I had to take the walk of shame, I was doing it armed with caffeine.
Unfortunately, I ran out three-quarters of the way there, and there’s no decent coffee to be had in that part of town, so my mood hadn’t lifted any by the time I climbed the wooden steps and beat on Seth’s door.
He wasn’t answering that, either.
We had a long Saturday ahead of us, which included inventories of the repossessions and cleaning out the storefront, and I was in no mood to piss around. I pounded on the door until I heard crashing and groaning inside, and Seth pulled it open, staring blearily at me. He had on jeans and nothing else.
“Fuck, is it morning already?”
“It is, and I have no coffee, and we have a lot of work to do, Red, so wake up. You’ve got only yourself to thank for the state you’re in.”
“Well, aren’t you Mr. Sunshine this morning,” he deadpanned, holding the door open for me.
“You can thank yourself for that too. I would have been perfectly happy with beer.”
“Hey, I don’t remember anyone pourin’ the stuff down your throat, man.” Seth grabbed a T-shirt out of a pile, sniffed it, and pulled it on.
“I think there’s probably a lot of things you don’t remember, because that is exactly what you tried to do. My damn shirt was sticky when I got home.”
He grinned obscenely and said, “Oh yeah, that must have been the Blow Job.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t start. It was cute last night, but now? Not so much.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Seth took me by the arm and dragged me into the kitchenette, pointing over my shoulder. “Look...coffee. How much do you love me now?”
“You don’t have a coffee maker,” I said, even as I was staring at a shiny white KitchenAid with a pot of decent smelling coffee steaming away on it.
“It’s new. It has a timer and everything. I don’t know shit about grinding up beans or whatever the hell you do with them, so you have to suffer with canned coffee, but it’s better than nothing, right?”
“Yeah, this is great,” I said, pouring some into my cup. “This is remarkably thoughtful for you, I’m impressed.”
“Ouch, asshole, why don’t you twist the knife a little more.” Seth hopped up on the counter and peeled open a pack of Pop-Tarts, taking a big bite before continuing. “So, what the hell was up with that Serrano dude? I’ve never had anyone try to tackle the fucking car before. Did you see that?”
“Yeah.” I blew on the coffee and