As the sky darkened, the group of guys sat outside the workshop playing cards. Alfonzo was getting goosebumps from the cool wind brushing away his sweat, leaving only the late-shift grease. His employee Jonas sat next to him and didn't realize he was letting his cards show. The other two players were neighbors, old men who had nothing better to do.
Alfonzo loved poker, he loved winning, and he had a great hand, but...he also loved to watch Jonas smile. This time he could help out the young Jonas, who had been doing a great job helping him out in the workshop. So when the time was right, he folded and let Jonas take the prize. Fifty bucks, easy win.
"Good job, kid," Alfonzo said.
"I'm so fucking good," Jonas boasted. His face lit up with a glorious smirk, a cockiness that made him look hot.
Forty-seven years on his back, and most of them he spent being very angry at himself and others. Here he was, simping for an 18-year-old.
Alfonzo was tall, built like a bull, hairy and a light brown complexion with curly hair. There had been a time when he used his size to scare other people, but now could barely hurt a fly. He was at peace with himself. He knew what he liked and knew how to hide it from others.
His attention shifted to a silver Pick-up truck that showed up suddenly and entered the workshop.
Damn it, he knew he should've closed the doors. It was Saturday, and he didn't do night shifts on Saturdays.
Alfonzo muttered to himself and rose up dutifully to do his job.
The driver was a blond young man. He got out of the car, phone in hand. He barely paid attention to Alfonzo, explaining that one of the headlights was broken.
Alfonzo took a good look at the young man. He was good looking, and had a good volume on his bulge.
"What?"
"What's happening?" A voice said, a voice that belonged to another blond young man who got out of the car at that moment. The voice, the face and the height seemed to have been copies of the first lad, but the similarities ended there. They had complete different styles. The one who had been driving wore a button-up shirt and pants, his shoes were black and shiny. The other one wore sunglasses, sleeveless shirt, and had tattoos on his neck reaching the right side of his face.
"This guy's weird," the driver answered.
"What's your problem?" Tattoo-face asked Alfonzo.
"Nothing. You just looked like someone I knew."
The boys shared a look.
Alfonzo cleared his throat.
"So, let's take care of this beauty."
He tried his best to pretend nothing was wrong.
Jonas showed up to help with the work. He had noticed the arrogance of the two newest clients and he had way less tolerance. He was a short king. But his muscles were packed tight, and he could have a mean face when he wanted.
"Is it done yet?" The tattoed one asked, which made Jonas rise up. It didn't help that Jonas was letting himself fall for the provocations. The two blonds had noticed his short temper, smirks never leaving their faces.
Alfonzo told Jonas to leave. "Your shift is done for the day anyway. I'll take care of this."
Jonas looked at Alfonzo in a way that he had never done before, a mixture of anger and betrayal within his eyes. He left without saying another word.
Wishing to be done as soon as possible, Alfonzo hurried up without paying much attention to what the twins - they were clearly twins - were doing. He was surprise to see one of them taking pictures of him while he was changing the headlights, kneeling on the ground.
"What's that? What're you doing?" Alfonzo said.
"Nothing. See me doing anything, Hurley?" The tattoo-face said.
"Nothing, Harry," Hurley answered.
The phone went back to the pocket. Alfonzo stood up, bothered, unsure of why they would want pictures of him, angry that they were disrespecting him.
"Please, let me see the picture you took."
"I didn't take pictures of you, old man."
"I saw you."
"Come closer," he said, more like a threat, and that made Alfonzo stop. He looked a little insane, that kid did.
"Alright, guys. It was just a big misunderstanding," Hurley said. Out of the two he was clearly the most well-behaved. "We took no pictures, man. Relax and do your job. We have things to do. Go on. Go on."
That was what happened to kids when you gave them too much money, and too much freedom to do whatever they wanted.
He was relieved when the blond kids left in their truck.
--
Jonas didn't need to show up for work on Sundays, but he still did. On the surface it seemed like things were okay, but underneath he was too quiet, too thoughtful. This had no influence on his work. He was getting better and better at the workshop, learning quickly and surpassing Alfonzo. Sometimes Alfonzo was the one helping him. He was proud of him as if he were his own kid.
So it bothered him that he seemed distant.
"Are you going to church today, Jonas?"
"Maybe."
Jonas pulled down the rolling door, closing the workshop. It was midday.
"What's on your mind, kid?" Alfonzo asked. He tucked in the tools carefully where they belonged. It was hot now that the doors were closed. He noticed that Jonas took an awful time to respond. He turned around. Jonas was looking at him with crossed arms.
"Why did you send me away?"
Alfonzo sighed.
