Page 94 of Pride High 3: Yellow

“Do we have to be quiet?” Ricky whispered as he watched Diego unlock a metal door.

Diego snorted. “Nope. My mom is a heavy sleeper.” He slammed his shoulder against the door before holding it open. “In ya go.”

“You don’t have an alarm system?” Ricky asked as he peered around the darkened interior of the shop.

“No need. A mean-ass pit bull sleeps in here at night.”

Ricky turned to him with concern and saw a toothy grin. “Is he a nice dog?” he asked playfully. “Will he let me pet him?”

“Yup.”

The main part of the repair shop was dark and silent. Despite his personal escort, Ricky still felt like a thief in the night. But at least there weren’t any ominous trees for him to fear. He darted behind one of the hydraulic lift pillars, convinced that he’d managed to hide from Diego, until he felt a hand grab the back of his shirt.

“Did I mention that the pit bull likes to bite?” Diego murmured against his ear before teeth nipped his neck.

Ricky yelped and laughed before running toward the office, seeking safety, but the knob wouldn’t turn.

“That I do keep locked,” Diego said with jangling keys in hand.

Ricky was pleased to see that the painted clay Frankenstein head he’d made still hung from them.

“You’ll be safe in here,” Diego said, although as soon as Ricky tried to brush past him, he began to growl.

Ricky ran inside and stopped, since it was even darker.

“Wish I’d thought to put some candles around,” Diego said as he switched on a lamp.

“That’s okay,” Ricky assured him. “I like it here.”

And he really did. License plates from various states covered the wall above an old threadbare couch. A weightlifting bench was off to one side, and two chairs were angled in front of a huge wooden desk on the far end of the room. That was about it for furniture, aside from some metal filing cabinets, a mini fridge, and a safe.

“Have you ever considered putting a bed in here?” Ricky asked, glancing at the small couch, where he knew Diego often slept.

“Nah. Customers still come in here sometimes, and it would look weird. Not that I really care, but you know they’d all have to say something stupid about it.” Diego opened the refrigerator and took out two bottles of Orange Crush, leveraging them against each other to pop off the caps, which he slipped into his pocket. “Want anything stronger?” he asked when offering Ricky one.

“No thanks.” He sipped from the bottle while watching him walk around the room. Diego went to the desk to switch on another lamp before he turned on a radio tuned to a rock station.

“That song by Skid Row came on the other day,” Diego said while leaning against the desk. “The one about a guy named Ricky. It made me think of you. Maybe it could be our song.”

Ricky scrunched up his face. “Isn’t it about a teenage murderer?”

“Yeah.” Diego thought about it and laughed. “I guess that would be a messed-up choice.”

“I don’t know,” Ricky said. “It makes me sound cooler than I really am.”

“You’re cool,” Diego said, stating it as a simple fact. He turned up the radio. “Wanna see something that’s not?”

Without waiting for an answer, he started dancing to a Megadeth song called “Symphony of Destruction” except he wasn’t lurching around like in a mosh pit or even banging his head. He was doing the sort of moves you'd see in a musical. Diego would angle his midsection away while throwing his arms in the opposite direction before kicking with his legs to leap into the air. He didn’t have the delicate grace of a ballerina. He looked more like a professional wrestler grappling with an invisible partner. Ricky wouldn’t want to get in the way of those powerful arms! Although he was impressed by the way his feet stayed with the rhythm.

The song ended, and so did the demonstration. Diego was grinning like he’d just told a funny joke. “Lame as shit, isn’t it?”

“No!” Ricky said. “That was amazing!”

Diego shrugged off the compliment. “It’s kinda fun. The story is stupid, and I don’t like the music either. I’ll probably get drunk so I don’t remember embarrassing myself on stage, but fuck it. I’m doing it. Mostly because nobody thinks I can.”

“I do.” Ricky didn’t try to hide his insecurity. “It’s obvious you’ve been practicing a lot. With Mindy.”

“Yeah.”