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Summary
Aurelio, to his credit, actually managed ten minutes of small talk before sheer curiosity got the better of him. “Heard you’re pregnant.”
John raised his eyebrows. He had been carefully stacking the cases Santino had previously confiscated from Aurelio on the workbench. “Do I look pregnant?”
“I don’t mean you literally,” Aurelio said, making no move towards the cases. The mechanic was leaning against the car he had been working on when John had wandered into the chopshop: a badly battered antique Jaguar, hoisted up on a cherry picker. He wiped his hands on a rag, dark hair plastered to head by sweat, the fluorescent bars in the chopshop giving his skin a bluish tint. “None of my business, but. I gotta ask. Did you guys uh. Fall in lurrve somehow, like, they say, there’s a thin line between love and hatred and—”
John stared pointedly across the workshop, and Aurelio’s assistants began making a show of being busy on tasks, shuffling off out of sight. “No,” John said. “It’s not compulsory.”
Series
- Part 3 of Martingale