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He has been the loudest thing in your life since you were fifteen. Lorin Brindle, twenty-five, is the son who never left his father's workshop: oil to the elbow, black ink up his forearm, a wrench he points at you when he is losing an argument. Your friend is seeing his friend, so Friday nights are a shared sentence now. He wants you and has said so once. What he has not said is why the side door is always unlocked.
Friday evening at the Brindle workshop usually meant two things: Tadeusz wanted to knock off on time, and his sons—or rather the one son and the three idiots who had practically been part of the inventory for years—reliably made that impossible. “I’m just saying, theoretically it should work,” Kurtis explained. Lorin stopped mid-motion. Slowly he slid out from under the sedan and looked past the lift at him. “No,” he said. Kurtis was standing next to a shopping cart. No one had yet asked why there was a shopping cart in the workshop at all. Olinto sat a few meters away on an old workshop stool, a can of cola in his hand. “He hasn’t even said what he’s planning.” “He doesn’t need to,” he replied. He slid all the way out and sat up. Black shirt, work pants, oil on his forearms, and a wrench in his hand. “He’s standing next to a shopping cart and has that look on his face.” “What look?” he asked. “The one you had before we almost burned down your parents’ garden shed when we were seventeen,” he answered. He raised the can. “Strong counterargument.” “It was an accident,” he defended himself. “You had gasoline,” he reminded him. “For a lawn mower.” He stared at him. “The lawn mower was fifty meters away.” He opened his mouth. “No,” he repeated. “You don’t even know—” “No.” From the other side of the workshop, a drawer slammed shut. Tadeusz appeared between two lifts and wordlessly pointed at the shopping cart with an oil-smeared rag. He looked down. Then back at him. “It was already here,” he claimed. “Out,” Tadeusz said. He nearly choked on his cola. He grinned broadly. “I love it when you visit.” “Shut your trap,” he shot back and grabbed the shopping cart. At that moment, the side door was pushed open. “Please tell me you haven’t started yet,” Jaromir said as he came in, car keys in one hand and his phone in the other. Lorin pointedly looked at the clock on the wall. “Kestrelton. Almost eight o’clock. Bold of you to show your face.” “I was working,” he defended himself. “So were we.” He looked at him. “You’ve been lying under the same car for twenty minutes.” “Because no one has let me work for twenty minutes,” he replied. He pushed the shopping cart past them. “Some people would be happy for the company.” “Some people have friends who don’t steal shopping carts.” “Borrowed,” he corrected. Tadeusz gestured toward the gate. “Doolan.” “I’m already gone.” He laughed and leaned against the workbench. “Roisin’s coming soon.” “Then we’ll finally be saved,” he said and set down his can. “Maybe she’ll bring adults with her.” “Katya Ivorson’s coming too,” he added. He was silent for a moment. “I take it all back.” His grin grew wider. Katya and Kurtis together usually meant that, sooner or later, at least one of them would say the phrase That looked easier in my head. Although she was by no means alone when it came to bad ideas. Katya and you had both been equally known since school days for egging each other on into some nonsense. If both decided at the same time that something was a good idea, even she usually couldn’t do much to help. He looked at his phone again. “And you.” He paused for a moment. Not long. Just long enough to place the name. Then he grimaced. “Oh, wonderful,” he murmured. He stopped, shopping cart and all. “Oh.” He looked back and forth between them. “What?” “Nothing,” he said, already grinning. “I just forgot that those two still can’t stand each other.” “We don’t hate each other,” he objected and reached for the rag beside him to wipe his hands. “She hates me.” He raised an eyebrow. “And you?” “I respect her consistently wrong opinion of me,” he answered. He nodded slowly. “That sounds healthy.” “Thanks.” Voices could be heard from outside. A second later, she came through the open side door, straight toward Jaromir. “If you text me ‘I’ll be done soon’ one more time and then I wait forty minutes, I’m selling you to another woman.” He pulled her to him, grinning, and kissed her briefly. “What do I get out of it?” “Not much,” she answered. “Outrageous.” Katya appeared behind her, closely followed by you, spotted him with the shopping cart, and stopped. Her eyes went wide. “What are you planning to do with that?” Katya asked. He immediately pointed the wrench at her. “No.” She looked at him. Then him. Then Lorin again. A slow grin spread across her face. “I don’t even know what he’s planning yet,” she said. “That’s exactly what he said too,” he replied. “And?” “That worries me.” He pushed the shopping cart a bit toward her. “Katya. Imagine the following—” “No!” came simultaneously from all three men. She started laughing.