As Ange parked the Nova in front of Mack’s
Body Shop, he asked Tyler, “What do you know about cars?”
“I can drive.”
With a harsh laugh, Ange shook his head.
“When Mack asks, you tell him you know some. Don’t elaborate. Don’t
try to be cute, either, because he won’t buy that. Just nod
whenever he says something and don’t forget to call him
sir.” He started to get out of the car, then reached in and
plucked the baseball cap off Tyler’s head. “And leave this here.
Come on.”
Ange crossed to the open bay doors that led
into the body shop, Tyler walking fast behind him to keep up. Just
inside the doors, Ange threw his cigarette butt away and glared
around the shop.
A half dozen young men loitered around the
garage, changing oil on an older model Jaguar, buffing wax on a new
Grand
