“I don’t know why you drive on campus,” I said. “It’s faster to walk.”
“I went downtown and bought a bunch of junk food to wallow properly,” he said as he opened the trunk of his black Mazda Miata. Grocery sacks filled the entire space, bulging with bags of chips, cupcakes, and soda.
“Oh, dude,” I said. “This isn’t healthy.”
He shrugged. “Gotta keep up thisfinefigure somehow.” He traced his hands along his body as if he had a sexy silhouette and waggled his eyebrows. “Frankly, I don’t know how you keep your hands off me.”
“It’s a daily struggle,” I said dryly as I set the pizza in the trunk.
Seb shut the trunk, laughing, and I started around to the passenger side.
Frathole 2 loomed out of the darkness, a bat in his hands. I jerked back, slamming into the side of the car.
He swung the bat into the passenger window beside my head with a crack, making me flinch. “You made us look like jackasses in there.”
“Sorry? You kind of made it easy.” He lifted the bat as if he’d swing it at my head this time. “Sorry, man! It was forty bucks. Chill.”
A thump and scuffle behind us reminded me that there were two assholes pissed at me. I spun to see Seb bent over the trunk of his car, Owen pinning him in place.
Shit.
“Give us our money,” Owen said when my eyes met his. “All eighty bucks.”
“Eighty? You only lost forty.”
“Pain and suffering costs extra.” He smirked. “Right, Petie?”
“That’s right. You owe me interest since I loaned Owen that cash. All eighty.”
I hesitated. “I already spent most of it. On pizza. You saw me do it.”
Petie clucked and moved to the front of Seb’s car. He lifted the bat over his shoulder. “That’s a shame. You know, I used to play baseball in high school. Should I go for a grand slam?”
Seb whimpered. “My car…”
“Wait!” I rushed toward the front grill and the seriously hacked-off man with a bat. “Don’t hurt the car!”
He gave me a look like I was crazy as I stepped between him and the headlight he’d been aiming for. I saw the thought cross his mind to hit me instead. Luckily for me, he was pissed, not homicidal.
I held up my hands. “I can make it up to you guys another way. Work off that eighty bucks.”
“I don’t believe in IOUs. Step aside before I break your fucking kneecap.”
“Not an IOU!” I said quickly. “You guys are into street racing, right? I heard you talking about mods for your cars.”
“So the fuck what?” he said.
“So I’m a mechanic. I can give you free labor.”
He scoffed. “We’re supposed to fall for another one of your cons?”
“It’s not a con! I can install that cold-air intake or nitrous injection system for you. That’s worth more than eighty bucks, right? You’ll be making out like bandits.”
“Why should we believe you?”
Well, that was the drawback of playing a couple of guys for fools. I didn’t know what the hell to say to convince them.
Behind me, Seb called out, “It’s true. His brothers run an auto shop.”
