Chapter 4: Two Things

"Then tell me."

He looked down the hall at the grandpa and the girlfriends.

All of them were looking at us now.

"Not on a jail bench," he said. "Your mama deserves better than a jail bench. You got a car?"

"I've got a car."

"My shop's on San Pablo. Two blocks up from her counter. I'll tell you there."

He folded himself into my passenger seat with his knees against the glove box.

I moved the seat back for him.

It went back four more inches.

"Thank you," he said, very serious.

"You looked like a folding chair."

He laughed.

It was a big laugh, too big for the car, and he caught it halfway.

"Sorry."

"Don't be."

Ortega Towing & Repair was a cinderblock garage with two bays and a flatbed parked out front.

The flatbed had police tape stuck to one tire.

Two men were inside under a Honda.

The young one rolled out on a creeper before the engine was off.

"Boss! They let you out! I told him they'd let you out. Didn't I say it? I said it this morning."

The old one stayed under the car.

One gray hand came out and gave a thumbs up, then went back in.

"That's him saying welcome home," Rafael said.

"He talks a lot."

"He used to. Then he married my aunt."

The young one stared at me.

"Wait. Is that the Chen lady? From the TV? Boss, why's the Chen lady in your..."

"Go get her a chair," Rafael said. "A clean one."

"We don't have a clean one."

"Then go clean one."

The young one went.

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