Page 5 of Hurricane Love

“Wy, come on. You don’t need to get mixed up with a guy like this. Not when you’re so close to getting out of here. Trust me, I know.”

He let out a little grumble of frustration. If he had one wish, it would be for Hannah to dump her jerk-off boyfriend for good, but their daughter Kayla was just two-and-a-half years old, and it was tough being a single mother. Wylie knew from his own mom’s struggles.

No, Wylie didn’t want to get tied down. But it wasn’t like he hated it here; he just had plans that included law school and a fancy, framed degree. Nancy was also on his case about moving away from his hometown and seeing what the hell else was out there. He sure as shit wasn’t going to let those plans get derailed by some man.

He was just… intrigued.

He studied the mugshot closer. Diego looked a good bit younger and a little strung out. Scared too. Wylie could only imagine. According to the date of the arrest, he was nineteenyears old at the time. Who hasn’t done some stupid shit at that age? Wylie wasstillin his stupid shit era.

“I think we should give him a chance,” Wylie decided after some deliberation. “That was a long time ago, and the man has done his time. But I appreciate you letting me know. I’ll be cautious.”

“Mmm,” she said, perhaps alluding to the fact that Wylie often lacked caution. The door to the pit whooshed open then, and Diego strolled in with his well-fitting navy shirt, worn jeans, big boots, and the baseball cap that would inevitably be turned backward before long. Wasn’t that cute? Wylie could predict the man’s habits already. Seeing Hannah and Wylie at the booth together, Diego gave them a brief nod of acknowledgement, followed by a suspicious narrowing of his eyes.

“His RBF is something else,” Wylie said with admiration. And yet, Wylie wondered if the scowls and clipped responses were just a front, if there might be something softer hiding underneath that hard exterior. Maybe the new guy wasn’t playing hard to get. Maybe he just needed a friend.

The pit closedat 9 p.m., and Frank was good about not having staff seat folks right before, which meant most nights, Wylie was finished by 11. Usually he was focused on getting the hell out of there and on with his life, but tonight he was in no rush.

Once the closing server, Emma, had ushered the last customer out the door, Wylie closed and locked his takeout window, then turned to Diego, who was wrapping up the meats in cellophane for overnight storage. “Whadaya wanna listen to?” Wylie asked, already in the process of connecting his phone to the kitchen’s aux.

Diego shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

Wylie bristled at that. Did the man not even have a musical preference? Or was he justthatstingy with information?

“Who’s your favorite artist?” Wylie asked.

“Rihanna,” Diego said without any hesitation.

Dated but still good. Not a dead giveaway like Lady Gaga or Charlie XCX, but definitely a friend of the gays. Wylie put on a Rihanna “best of” playlist and set about collecting the bottles of barbecue sauce and assorted condiments to store in the fridge overnight while Diego sanitized the stainless steel counters, nodding along to “Love on the Brain.” Emma finished up her front-of-house duties and bid them goodnight. Wylie walked her out to her car, taking a few hits from his vape on the way there while scanning the mostly empty parking lot to find his own beauty, Charlene, safe and sound.

“I think I’m going to ask him out,” Emma said to him conversationally. They both knew who she was talking about. Diego had been the hot topic since he started at the pit a couple weeks ago.

“Oh yeah?” Wylie asked, impressed by her moxie.

“Yeah, why not? At least he’s notcurrentlyin prison, and he seems kinda sweet under all that grouchiness. Like he just needs a hug or something.”

Wylie didn’t know if Hannah had shared the news about Diego’s past or if Emma was the source. The female servers were like PI’s when it came to getting the deets on a potentially datable hot guy. But Emma was probably right that the man needed a hug.

“Will you let me know how that goes? Cause I’m up next at bat.” Wylie made the motion of swinging an imaginary bat, then eyeing the distance. Another homerun.

She grinned like it was some delicious scandal and poked his bicep. “Okaaay, Romeo. May the best man win.”

They parted with a friendly hug and Wylie waited until she was pulling out of the parking lot before heading back into the pit. Inside, he caught Diego singing along to the chorus of “Umbrella,” shimmying his shoulders just a little. Adorable.

Diego glanced up to find himself caught in the act and gave a little shrug of acknowledgement. “It’s catchy. She put out anything recently?”

“Rihanna? Nah, man, she keeps having kids.”

“Really? How many does she have?” Diego asked.

“Three now. With A$AP Rocky.”

“Huh,” Diego said, as if it was news to him, which meant that for however long Diego had been in prison, there was a gap in his knowledge of pop culture and probably current events too. Wylie reflected on all of his own personal milestones over the past seven years–his mother’s passing and moving in with his high school English teacher Nancy, the first time he got blackout drunk, graduating from high school and starting college, the pandemic. Diego was in prison during COVID? What must that have been like? Wylie couldn’t fathom a whole seven years of his life, just… gone. How disorienting that must be.

“I guess you don’t keep up with that sort of stuff?” Wylie asked, giving him an opening to explain himself.

Diego stiffened and glowered at Wylie as if the question was an insult. Shoulders high and tense, he said, “No, I don’t.”

The man was private, Wylie could respect that. He probably didn’t want the whole restaurant gossiping about him or his past. Probably too late for that, though.