how to fix the family vehicle. Eventually Dominic opened up his own garage. Miami was too busy and crowded for his classic car collection and the ranch land in Southwood seemed like a perfect place to relocate. A write-up in the local paper sent people in town to his place and flooded his driveway with cars needing routine services. In order to keep his privacy, Dominic opened up a shop in town. He liked restoring vehicles.
Twenty-one-year-old Alisha blew a bubble with her bright pink gum and shrugged. “I mean, I told everyone to leave.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s nothing to do here and there’s a whole kickball-slip-n-slide tournament going on right now.”
Dominic bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything too rash. He’d made the decision when he moved to Southwood six months ago to bring his party-going sister with him. Their mother, Angela, was at her wit’s end with Alisha. She wasn’t in school and hung out with a fast crowd in Miami. Ten years older than his sister, Dominic had become the surrogate father to Alisha and their brothers, Dario and Darren, when their father left them. Dario and Darren were at least on the right path in life and in college, even if it were every other semester, and staying out of trouble...usually.
“And what about the cars here?” Dominic hiked his thumb toward the vehicles in the air.
“Gee, Dom, the parts haven’t arrived in the mail like we expected,” Alisha said through a forced smile. She picked up a stack of letters. “I know what I’m doing.”
Because the stack in her hands was so thick, Dominic questioned her last statement. “I ordered the parts three weeks ago, before I left.”
“I know.” Alisha handed Dominic the stack of mail addressed to him. “And I need you to go through these as soon as possible. You never responded to the District Planning Committee about sponsoring a contestant.”
Dominic’s left eye twitched as he wondered what his sister was talking about. “What?”
“There is a beauty pageant this coming weekend and I know you want to put up a few more garages in town.”
“Okay?” Dominic said, humming to himself. No one could compare to the beauty he’d met this afternoon—sort of met. He never caught her name, but Dominic promised himself once he did, he’d never forget it. The cupcake girl was unlike any woman Dominic had met in a while. After spending two weeks in Dubai and enticed with vapid, gorgeous women who ate nothing but lettuce, Dominic enjoyed seeing a woman with a healthy appetite. Having practically raised Alisha, Dominic was well aware of how women behaved around men. Alisha and her friends pigged out at home but pretended to be on diets on dates.
The trip to Dubai had been half pleasure and half business. His other college friend Aamir Assadi requisitioned Dominic’s help with a few vehicles and insisted he come to Dubai to deliver them personally. Aamir sent his private plane for Dominic and set him up in his family’s high-rise condominium. When he learned Will planned on coming to Southwood, Dominic wasn’t heartbroken to cut his time overseas short to accommodate Will’s arrival. Owning three different garages and two restoration shops in South Florida allowed Dominic to expand up north, to serve a larger clientele without distraction from city life. Dominic had purchased a ranch-style home on the outskirts of Southwood. The large space of open pavement was a huge selling point for test-driving the horsepower of his restored vehicles. In emergency cases, he might be asked to use the paved land for life-flight helicopters. Dominic kept the strip clear of parked cars, so landing on the makeshift airstrip had cut down on travel time for Will and hopefully opened up time for the friends to hang out and catch up.
“Tiffani still needs a sponsor.”
Dominic did not need his sister’s fast best friend thinking there was a future for them. Sponsoring her would not clarify things. “Tiffani’s parents own The Cupcakery. Why aren’t they sponsoring her?”
“They are, but if you’re willing—”
“I’m not.” Dominic cut her off. “I don’t have time for a pageant or the drama of one, Alisha. Try again.” He pushed away from the counter and headed off toward his office.
“You need to become more involved with the community,” Alisha hollered after him. “Folks are still bringing their cars to the mechanic in Peachville. Tiffani knows people. She can be an asset.”
Dominic let the glass door close without a care about the rattling frame. A sigh of relief escaped from the back of his throat. No more hotel rooms. No more surprise visitors knocking on the door. While Dominic wasn’t the best cook, he at least would have something he made without feeling guilty for all the richness...maybe even a protein shake, and then he’d hit the gym. Dominic strolled over to his desk, wondering why he didn’t stay home. When Aamir’s private plane landed on Dominic’s property to drop him off, he should have just stayed home instead of coming in to check on the garage. Alas, Dominic knew he came because the garage was his baby.
The walls in Dominic’s office were adorned with pictures of some of his work: the first car he’d restored, the celebrities he worked with and the first garage he opened up when he turned twenty. Not bad for a kid who almost dropped out of high school. Dominic glanced up at his diploma, framed by his family. His mother had been so proud to have a son earn a full scholarship to Stanford, especially when they grew up on the wrong side of the tracks.
A stack of paperwork teetered on the corner of his custom-designed desk. The hood of the 1969 Camaro had been stripped from the rest of the body and turned into a desk in a twisted form of revenge from an old friend of his who’d found his car-loving wife with another man. Dominic stretched before sitting down. The door to his locker room was still closed, but he knew his coveralls were waiting for him. He’d spent the last two weeks showing off the Ferrari and Porsches he customized for Aamir, but now he was ready to get started working beneath the hood of any of the cars. Being underneath a four-thousand-pound car soothed him.
Instead of getting up to change, Dominic sat and decompressed. His mind went back to the woman at The Cupcakery. For once Dominic wished he’d listened to Alisha and got more involved with the community. He sponsored Little League games. Several peewee baseball teams bore the Crowne’s Garage logo on the backs of their shirts. He never went to a game long enough to get to know anyone, though. Growing up and taking care of everyone in his family had never left time for Dominic to socialize. Alisha, on the other hand, had been out the first weekend she moved here. In order to keep her safe and from driving out to his ranch so late at night, Dominic bought Alisha a condo within walking distance of the garage. The two-bedroom place worked out fine for him as well when he worked later than expected in the garage.
Rapid, hard knocks banged against the glass and the door opened before Dominic had a chance to say anything. Alisha appeared in the doorway, hand on her hip.
“Please,” Dominic said, waving her inside. She didn’t budge but instead huffed. “What?”
“I’m heading out now.”
“Okay?” Dominic asked in a slow drawl.
“You forgot, didn’t you?”
Dominic returned Alisha’s huff. “Apparently so. What’s up?”
“You were going to watch your nephew this evening.”
By nephew, Alisha meant her teacup pig, Hamilton. Dominic wiped his hands down his face. “Alisha, I just returned.”
“Yes, from a vacation without me while I stayed here and ran the garage,” she reminded him. “When you told me how long you were going without me, you promised me the minute you got back you’d babysit. And you’re back. Perfect timing, too.”
“Alisha.”
“Dominic,” Alisha whined and bobbed her knee—the telltale sign of an adult temper tantrum. “C’mon. I won’t be out long. I’ll even buy you a pizza.”
With his stomach rumbling, Dominic was sold. But he couldn’t let Alisha know. “Fine, I’ll do it.”