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“Alex!” Jun called out. Alex turned around. Jun took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

Alex scoffed. “For what?”

Jun didn’t respond right away. The seconds stretched out, long enough for Alex to hear his own breathing. Then, quietly: “For hitting you.”

Alex blinked. It took him a second to even remember what Jun was talking about. Then it hit him. He barked out a laugh. He had completely forgotten about that menial incident. “Fuck man! You still hung up on that?” He doubled over, holding his stomach, the laugh loud enough to wake the whole block. He didn’t care.

Jun let out a nervous laugh, ears turning bright red.

Alex sighed out a chuckle, wiping the tears away, unsure whether from laughing or the warm feeling building within him. “Real talk though, a love tap like that ain’t gonna make me hold a grudge. Just don’t do that shit again, and we cool. Cool?”

“We cool.” Jun gave him a thumbs up, then yelped, scrambling to tilt the pot upright as leftover broth sloshed onto his shoes.

17

Farm

“Excuse me, but are you that guy? From that talk show?”

Two middle-aged women with nervous smiles approached from the street corner, clutching their million-dollar designer handbags.

Covey flashed them a smile. “I may have had a show here and there.”

The women giggled as Covey gave Jun a wordless nod and handed him his coffee. Jun switched the pie bag to his other hand and cradled Covey’s warm coffee. Covey had insisted on ordering a pumpkin pie from Malibu Kitchen when Jun picked him up early in the morning.

As Covey posed with the women, Jun squinted against the late-morning sun blazing across the crowded parking lot. Brightly colored vintage cars cruised through the plaza, turning the trendy shopping outlet into a maze of chrome and people.

Jun had seen the car meet at the night market, but this was a different world entirely. The crowd here skewed older, dressed in laid-back beachwear and designer sunglasses. The kind of people whose cars aged better than they did.

After the women thanked Covey, he snatched his coffee out of Jun’s hands. “What do you think?” he asked, pointing at the scene. “Not so different from the other night, right?”

A vintage red Porsche drove past them, the driver inside waving as if the onlookers were expecting him.

“I guess so,” Jun said. “They are different car models. And the crowd here is...” He trailed off as an older couple in matching boating beachwear strode past them, chatting away.

Covey chuckled into his coffee. “Full of old folks?” he asked.

Jun stammered. “That’s not what I was—”

“I’m just messing with ya, don’t worry,” said Covey with a wink as he strode ahead of him.

Jun grimaced, unsure whether it was because he hadn’t fully understood what Covey said or because what he had caught struck him as a little offensive towards the people at the night market. When they were a few feet away from the Vanquish, someone called out.

“Covey? Is that you?”

A tall man with silvery white hair and a strong jaw walked over in head-to-toe denim. He and Covey pulled each other into a back-pat hug—the easy kind between people who’d known each other a long time. Jun studied the man’s face, trying to place where he’d seen him before.

“Jay! My man! What new car are you bringing to show and tell?”

Jay bellowed a hearty laugh. He pointed at his red Porsche. “I just got that one tuned up from a new guy. I can give you his number if you need a nice wax and polish.”

“No thanks, but I’ll keep that in mind,” said Covey. “So, are you still in negotiations with your protégé? What’s his name? James or something?”

Jay scoffed and shook his head. “Still going. But going strong.”

Covey laughed along with Jay before giving a light tap on his shoulder. “Sorry to cut it short, but I gotta get going.”

“Already? I thought you just got here.”