Saturday Afternoon

The roar of Mike’s SUV breaks the afternoon heat as it pulls into the driveway. Chad hops out, a triumphant, rare grin on his face. He’s carrying his golf bag like a trophy. He’s won by two strokes, and the victory has inflated his ego.

“Told you, Mike!” Chad laughs, slapping the other man on the shoulder. “Technique over power, every time. You’re lucky I didn't take your lunch money on the 18th.”

Mike shakes his head, though he looks restless, his eyes already scanning the house for Alexis—or Cherie. “Yeah, yeah. You got lucky with that putt. Next time, White.”

“Come here,” Chad says, beckoning Mike toward the garage. “I want to show you the '69 restoration. I finally got the upholstery in.”

The two men disappear into the cool, oil-scented shadows of the garage. The Mustang sits in the center, a gleaming beast of chrome and midnight blue. The two men begin to talk about engine blocks and original parts.