“How’s it lookin’?” Uncle Hank asked, rubbing grease from his hands with a bandana.
“It needs a new transmission,” I reported. “I can rebuild it to save him money, but that’ll take some time and—”
“Are you giving out discounts I didn’t agree to?”
I gave my uncle a sharp sideways glance. “I didn’t give away anything at all. Why?”
“I’m not givin’ out freebies to fairies. If he wants to pay for your time and parts, great. If you want to do your friend a favor, you’ll need to do that elsewhere.”
“Whoa. Where’s that coming from?” I scowled.
Hank pushed his bandana into his front pocket, then set his hands on his hips. My mom’s older brother was not a good-looking man. He reminded me of a beady-eyed walrus with thinning hair, chubby cheeks, and a bushy mustache. He was also the type who got a little uglier the second he opened his mouth. There was no nice way to put it.…Hank was an asshole.
He wasn’t the type to be rude face-to-face, but he didn’t hesitate to comment when a customer walked out the door. It might be about the size of a woman’s breasts, the color of someone’s skin, or their accent. It varied depending on his mood.
Sadly, it didn’t faze me anymore when he said something shitty. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t condone his asshattery, but I was used to him. He’d always been a dick. However, he’d never questioned a friend discount in the past.
“Don’t get your boxers in a twist, Aiden. I’m not turning anyone away. All I’m sayin’ is…if this bad boy is gonna take up space in my garage”—he smacked the side door meaningfully—“the owner needs to pay rent for it. And of course, he needs to compensate you for your time.”
“I’ve known George Murphy since he was a kid. His brother is one of my best friends. Christ, you’ve met Simon. He got you tickets to a Rams game a couple of years ago.”
“So what?”
“We have three open bays here.” I extended my arms to the empty garage space behind me. “You make a profit on the parts, so having this piece of crap here ultimately makes you money.”
“Sure thing. And it’ll make me more money when I get a cut of your fee. Don’t get grumpy on me, and don’t tell me how to run my business, boy. It’s my prerogative to serve customers as I see fit. I’m not making cushy deals for the devil’s servants.”
What the actual fuck?
“The devil’s servants?” I repeated incredulously.
“You know what I’m talkin’ about,” he huffed snidely as he shuffled toward the office.
Yeah, I did. I’d overheard Hank’s casual brand of prejudice all my life. Words like fag, queer, and butt pirate were dropped without a second thought.
When I was a kid, the contemptuous slurs had gone right over my head. They pissed me off now. I wanted nothing more than to tell Hank where to shove it, but I wasn’t in a position to do so. Yet. It was another incentive, if I needed one, to make a career change.
Christ, I couldn’t believe he’d deny anyone in the Murphy family a measly discount. They were good people and lifelong friends of mine.
And Hank was a fucking hypocrite.
This was the same man who had his hand out for free NFL tickets a couple of years ago and yeah, Simon had delivered…no questions asked. Hank couldn’t praise Simon enough back then. Such a great athlete, such a great guy, such a great friend. He’d sympathized when multiple concussions sidelined Simon’s season and eventually led to him getting cut from the team. But the day my friend came out as bisexual and in a relationship with a man, Hank changed his tune.
I wondered what he’d say if he knew I’d kissed a man and liked it.
I gritted my teeth, letting the familiar garage noise drown out the angst in my head. I hated feeling so damn stuck, and I hated feeling like I owed that prick something. I hated—
“What’s up, man? You look like you’re gonna rip the hood off this thing,” Timmy chided, bumping my elbow.
“Hmph.”
“Don’t let the old man piss you off.” He patted my shoulder and offered a wry grin that made his gaunt face look crooked. My cousin was tall and lean with long hair and a ton of ink. He took after his dad in the ugly department, but unlike Hank, Timmy was a decent guy. Mostly.
Truthfully, I didn’t trust anyone in my family. But Timmy was the best of a bad bunch.
“Hey, you around this weekend? I have to tow this thing, and I’ll need someone to cover my shift.”
“No way. I’m not coming in on my day off, but I’ll drop this somewhere Monday morning if it’s local. Where’s it goin’?”
I closed the hood and brushed my hands on my coveralls. “I’ll let you know. Thanks.”