The boy rolled out from beneath the car in their garage, wiping the oil away from his forehead. “Mikey, pass the ratchet, will you?” He huffed as sweat-beads rolled down his short brown curls.

His younger brother handed him the tool. “Henry, what a steal—200 bucks from Lenny, huh?” Michael lifted his chin with a grin, and wiped his neck and face with the hanker chief from his father’s coat pocket. “Dang, it’s too hot this year!”

Henry had already returned beneath the car on the short-cart, the ratchet clanking. Mikey placed his hands in his pockets. “Gee, Hen, think pop will let us take it around the neighborhood after we fix her up?”

“Dunno.” The ratchet continued as his boots tapped on the concrete. He hummed and tapped away. “My woman from Tokeyooo!”

“Heya, Hen, think Dad’s going to love it when we finish?”

“Mhm. As much as he loves you wearing his coat.”

The humming turned into whistling, and the feet’s rhythm quickened.

“Whatever… Is it true though, that dad got it real cheap?”

“I think so..”

“How come?”

The ratchet ceased. “Damn—gimme the crescent and a towel, man.”

Michael handed him them. “Why did we get it so cheap, Hen?”

“Dunno, ask pops.” Henry could see the long white pant legs standing behind his little brother, as he tightened the nut, just as their father always had when inspecting their work.

“Yeah, Hen, I’ll ask him at dinner.” His hands were visibly in his pockets.

“Ask him now, man. He’s in the garage with us.” Henry analyzed his work beneath the car, and tried to verify that the leak ceased. “Pass me a flashlight, will you?”

“What do you mean, father’s here?”

“Huh?”

“Pops is behind you, Mikey. He came in and has been watching us work for a minute.”

“Uh, no. I don’t see him anywhere?”

Henry sighed, then rolled out with even more oil on his face. “Uhm, I guess he left?” He then shrugged.

“Stop, Henry.” He chuckled. “They went to the store, remember?”

“Yeah… that’s right…”

They looked around the hot garage—nothing but shelves and tools and miscellaneous supplies.

“So, stop messing with me then, Henry!”

Henry smiled, got up and wiped away the sweat and oil from his skin. “Let’s go, we’ve done enough work tonight.”

“Okay, bro. But promise me one thing?”

“What’s that, man?” Henry asked picking up the tools and turning the garage light off.

“Don’t joke like that.”

Henry looked back at the car, remembering why his father got such a discount on the glorious clunker. It was common for crashed-vehicles to go for dirt cheap.

Then he shut and locked the door. “Let’s get ready for supper, Mikey.”

“Okay, man!”

But Henry shivered as they walked down the dimly-lit stones towards the side of their kitchen, thinking about those white pants standing behind his little brother.