The man had his hand out before they met, and they were shaking when they did.

“You told me to call,” Keith said. “But I was close so I thought I’d just stop by.”

“Glad you did,” Joker replied, breaking contact.

Keith’s eyes went to the car. “Is she yours?”

Joker looked to the car too. “The one I’m workin’ on now, yeah.”

Joker felt the man’s eyes on him when he stated, “She’s a beauty.”

He looked to Keith and grinned. “Wanna see?”

Keith nodded and Joker led him to the car.

“So what’s your responsibility with this?” Keith asked as they walked.

“All a’ it,” Joker told him.

They stopped by the car and Keith looked to him. “Sorry?”

“Design, chassis, body, exhaust, suspension, transmission, engine, wheels, interior, paint.” He looked to the car. “Bumper to bumper, roof to wheels, she’s mine.”

“That’s, uh… I… Carson…” Joker looked back to him as he stammered. “That’s incredibly impressive.”

That felt good, but even so, Joker shrugged.

“My job,” he muttered and went on, “Don’t stitch leather or anything. Most of the interior we subcontract the build or restore, utilizing kickass shit we find in vehicles that are beyond restoration. We refurbish and manipulate it to fit. And I don’t paint. We got a paint guy who does that, another one who does pinstriping. I envision airbrushing, I do some a’ that, but if it’s time-consuming, we’re on deadline and I don’t got that time, we got a guy who helps out—”

“You airbrush?” Keith asked and again Joker shrugged.

“Yeah.”

Slowly, Keith smiled before he said, “I’d like to see some of that.”

Joker nodded. “Cherry’s got a book in the office of old builds. I can—”

He stopped talking when he heard, “Sweetie!”

He turned and didn’t even try to stop his big smile when he saw Carissa hurrying toward him wearing a cute dress that swung around her thighs, exposing her legs from the knees down, high-heeled, girlie sandals, her hair loose and big, light makeup, Travis on her hip.

And with her was Mrs. Heely.

“Look who I have!” she cried, turning slightly to indicate Mrs. Heely.

“Yo, Butterfly,” he called and looked to the woman with her. “Momma Heely.”

Mrs. Heely rolled her eyes.

Carissa came right to him, deep into his space, hand to his stomach, and rolled up to kiss his stubbled jaw.

Travis latched on in a way that when she pulled back, he was still claiming Joker. Joker took the hint and pulled the kid into his arms.

“Yo, boy,” he said to him.

“Goo, dah, bah,” Travis replied.

“That good a day?” Joker asked.

“Bah!” Travis agreed, lifting his hands and smacking Joker in the jaw with one, the mouth with the other, where he curled in and tugged.

Joker let him and did it grinning.