[Hyde POV]
I stood beside the tunnel the players were passing through after the game ended. Mrs. Forman didn't enjoy the match since a tall man had been blocking her view, so she traded seats with me at halftime.
Donna also traded seats with Eric, who gave the tickets to Red.
"Steven, is that a box of Cuban cigars?" Red asked, astonished, when he saw me standing by the tunnel with the box in my hands.
I tilted it slightly so the players walking past could see it.
"Yeah. I got it as a thank-you from some rich guys," I said simply. I actually bought it online. It cost three hundred bucks from a Swiss importer.
It was a Partagás Cuban with 25 cigars. The wooden box was clearly marked, the lacquer polished smooth. A few players glanced at it as they walked by, but none of them stopped.
Red guffawed. "So your gift's pretty useless, Steven. I'm going to wait in the car."
"I'm staying here a bit longer," I replied calmly.
People were emptying the stadium fast. Then a tall African American man in a long coat slowed down near me.
He wasn't a player. He was older, sharper eyes, the kind of guy who belonged behind the scenes.
He leaned in slightly. "Young man… is that a box of Cuban cigars?"
"Yup." I opened it just enough for him to see inside.
He picked one up, rolled it gently between his fingers, then smelled it.
"That's a good cigar."
"It should be," I said with a faint smirk. "Cost me three hundred bucks."
His eyebrows rose. He glanced at me — the cashmere sweater, white sneakers, stainless steel watch, silver chain.
"I manage Julius Erving, Calvin, Brooks. You can call me Cal." he said quietly. "You want to come backstage and meet him?"
I smiled. "Sure Cal. I'm Steven Hyde. You can call me Hyde. "
The tunnel opened up into the back corridors, concrete walls lined with security and staff.
In 2024, I had an experience of going back to the New York Knicks locker room. This one has much much lacking security compared to that.
Dr. J was toweling off when we stepped into the locker room. He was really tall. Six foot seven. I felt like a midget there since all of the players were goliaths.
"Doc," the manager said cheekily, "this kid brought Cuban cigars."
Dr. J smiled immediately. "Now that gets my attention."
I handed the box over without a word. He opened it, nodded once, appreciative. "You didn't have to do that."
"I wanted to," I said. "They're meant to be shared."
That earned me a few looks from the other players. Kareem Abdul Jabber laughed and joined in the conversation, "Hear that Doc. You need to share."
"Shove it." Doc cursed him.
That's when I noticed Bill Walton sitting on a bench, barefoot, taping his ankle. Tall, red-haired, unmistakable. He was laughing with someone.
I hesitated for half a second, then spoke up, careful not to sound like a fan.
"Mr. Walton," I said, evenly. "My adopted father's a big admirer. Wisconsin guy."
Walton looked up at me, curious. "Yeah?"
"He couldn't sit near the tunnel. Bad knees." I paused. "Would you mind signing something for him?"
Walton smiled. A genuine one. "Sure, kid. What've you got?"
The man was hairy. Like, his beard was frizzy. Doc and the others began lighting up the cigar, and they were really surprised by it. The earthy smell, the premium feel, the aged tobacco.
"This is really great." Kareem said as he took a deep drag.
I pulled out a book. An autograph book. I took pictures with the players which I would put their pictures next to their autographs.
Bill Walton signed the separate card for Red.
[To Red Forman —
Thanks for loving the game.
— Bill Walton]
"So what do you do Steven?" Doc asked as he was absorbed with the cigar.
"I tuned supercars and built custom cars." I replied and handed him my namecard. In fact, I gave everyone there my namecard.
…
Outside the stadium. Red grinned as he saw me walking back with my bag.
"So, you waited for nothing?" He smirked.
"Not really." I took out my autograph book from the bag and gave him the signature I got for him.
Red froze, and stammered. "You-You got into the locker room?"
"Yeah. I even took pictures with Kareem Abdul Jabbar, Doc Irwing, Bill Walton.."
Red's breathing became quicker as he heard it. "Oh!" His blood pressure rose, and he held the back of his neck. "Why didn't I wait with you?"
"You're too impatient, Red." Kitty admonished him. "But look! Look! Steven got you the signature from Bill Walton! Your favorite player!" She immediately comforted him.
I laughed and went inside the car. Eric, Donna and Victoria were shocked when they heard it.
"Tory, I got you a signed jersey from Doc Irwing." I showed the jersey to her. "Happy Valentine's day."
"Um.." Victoria blushed and said, "Thank you Steven." She kissed me on the cheek slightly.
"You didn't get anything for me?!" Eric was halfway offended, halfway crying.
"I got you a jersey from the gift shop." I replied with a smirk. "Wait. No, this is mine."
Both of the jerseys were from the giftshop. The manager, Cal, was the one who gave it to me since all of them enjoyed the cigars.
…
As we drove back home, Victoria was asleep in the passenger seat. I stopped the car at the side of the road, took a blanket from my trunk and put it on her before driving back again.
I even lowered her seat slightly to make her more comfortable. But not all the way since Donna was behind her.
"That's so sweet." Donna gushed. "You're actually, really romantic Hyde." She teased.
"Get bent." I cursed at her, making both her and Eric laugh.
The sound of laughter jolted Victoria awake, and she saw what I had done. She pulled the blanket to cover half her face and peeked at me while I was driving.
I sent Eric and Donna home first before I sent Victoria home. She woke up as the car stopped, so I didn't have to carry her inside.
"Hey Steven, you… want to come in?" She invited me, slightly batting her eyes.
"Sure." I replied casually.
"I want to try the jersey you got me." She said as she locked the door.
"That's a good idea." I sat on the couch and turned on the tv.
We fell asleep in the bedroom together, and when we woke up, we did it a couple more times until Red called me using the walkie talkie.
"Steven Hyde. Did you not come home last night?" Red asked angrily.
"Oh damn it."
…
Monday. I came to work while bringing some VCR tapes, and an actual VCR to the shop.
"What's that?" Megan asked as she saw the tapes. I have labelled it, 'Detailing', 'Painting', 'Welding', 'Rust', 'Engine', 'Wiring', 'Brakes', 'Chasis', and 'Suspension'.
"Training videos," I replied with a smirk. "You didn't think you'd get the right to the job, did you?"
Megan frowned, but Tyrell was quite excited about it.
"For the next two weeks, you'll learn the specific skills and how to use the equipment." I muttered with a yawn.
"Tough day yesterday?" Tyrell asked casually.
I smiled and said, "My girl won't let me rest."
Victoria and I spent Valentine's day together without a single thread on our bodies. It was pretty awesome, and tiring too.
For the videos, I downloaded some training videos on Youtube and Facebook, compiled them into a few hour long videos, and edited out parts that mentioned the future.
I had to use a betamax recorder, connect it to my laptop through an adapter, and spent the night playing the videos so the VCR could record it.
The video was in 1080p, but once it was recorded in the VCR, it was pretty grainy.
"We're going to move on to practical training after this. Instead of just doing beat up cars, we'll buy non-starters and figure out why the car won't work." I told them.
…
Thursday. Four days since Valentine's day.
I thought Red was going to kill me for staying out while I was grounded, but he mellowed out instantly when Mrs Forman reminded him about the autograph.
I didn't go to school till today, not because school was closed– it was already open, but because of the rich clients waiting to get their cars tuned.
The Rockwells were like my salesmen. They kept finding new clients and brought them to my shop.
Because of their involvement, Jackie's dad, the local councilman, went to my principal and got me a special exemption to get out of school for a week!
Since it wasn't a test season, the principal agreed happily. I think Mr Burkhart wanted to convince the guys to do something here in this town. Maybe some investments.
I didn't really care much about the town politics. I've serviced over 12 cars in four days and gained a lot of money.
I charged 700 bucks per tuning, and some of the rich men left very hefty tips after they got their car back.
In total, I've made almost ten thousand dollars, which almost made Red faint.
'But there were no appointments in the future, so I wouldn't be able to rake up this much money in a short time period again.'
Exotic supercars were rare after all.
I paid Rockwell 1000 bucks for the Sun Machine. The machine itself was affordable, but the availability to purchase was the main problem. They gladly sold it to me, but not with cash, but taking it out of my fee.
I gave Bruce the 1950 VW Beetle, and he was really happy about it. He paid me the 1500 fee and took the car away.
My newly established shop made over 11,500 dollars in just a few days. But I kept it a secret for now.
"I should do something with the money. A cafe sounds like a good idea."
It would also help since I could launder some of my cash with the cafe.
'I watched Breaking Bad. I know how to launder money.'
After hiring a realtor to help me find a good spot for the cafe, I focused on my work instead.
The same evening, I stood beside Megan and watched her work on the 1962 Nova. After applying Bondo on the dented part after fixing the dent, she was working hard to sand it, which made her entire hand turn dusty.
She wore a respirator, and a black tank top as she worked on the car. She actually wore a mechanic suit, but she took the top off as she was sweating.
"That's pretty good. Prime it afterward, and you can leave for today." I told her.
She grinned in satisfaction and said, "No. I'm not leaving. Don't you remember?"
I thought about it and exclaimed in realization, "Ah. Alright. You can use the tools to work on your Mustang."
"Nice!" She raised her hands up and celebrated. She drove a beat up 1965 Mustang. And when I said beat up, I meant really beat up.
It has dents all over, the front left panel is gone, and the trunk won't close. It had rusts and the interior was pretty bad too.
She told me it was her husband's race car, before he got drafted to Vietnam and died. The girl was only 24, but she had a really sad life.
Her father died when she was 18, her brother died when she was 19, her husband died when she was 21. She has 3 sisters to support, they were all minors and needed schooling.
She worked 3 jobs to keep them around and not let child protective services get them. Two of the sisters graduated and were working now, so she could relax a little.
Tyrell left during dinner after working 8 full hours. He was really quiet, but capable. He helped me a lot in fixing up the Bel Air since he could weld.
The Bel Air could be sold soon after finishing the interior. The Nova's engine needed a little work, so it would be done in a week.
"It's all because of Red." I mumbled. "He gave me bad cars."
At the very least, the cars were useful as training tools for the new employees.
Megan accidentally squirted some oil onto her cleavage. After seeing her trying to wipe it off with her bare hand, I felt like I needed some smoke.
"I'll go and see Victoria after this."
…
Friday, I brought two new cars into the shop.
A yellow 1973 Corolla Coupe, and a silver 1972 Ford Granada.
Both cars were sold by students in my high school. I posted a poster there to buy junk cars, and I got the two of them for just 150 dollars each.
"It has a lot of problems." I told Tyrell and Megan. "I already knew how to get it started again, but you two need to figure this out this time."
Tyrell nodded and had a solemn face. Megan asked, "Will we get fired if we don't know?"
"You're not going to get fired. But you won't be able to get the pay raise I've planned for you two once you become a fully fledged mechanics."
Their eyes turned sharp and they agreed instantly to do it.
Tyrell took the Granada, and Megan took the Corolla. For me, I took the third car, my own car.
I was finishing the boost installation today. The Bel Air was already done, so I worked on the Nova's engine quietly while the two people were figuring out why the two cars wouldn't work.
I had to change the pistons in the engine, since the piston was shot in the old one. The parts arrived early so I could finish the work in just two days.
Megan and Tyrell looked at me with disbelief as I began taking off the engine to get to the pistons.
"He's really confident in doing those. He didn't even stop to take a look at the guide." Megan muttered with disbelief. Her eyes flickered slightly and she turned to the Corolla again.
Four hours passed by pretty quickly. I was already done with the piston changes, which surprised me.
"Since the appraisal acted like a game mode, I could see how many torques needed for a bolt, the correct sequences to put in the pistons and bolting the engine."
I replaced the gasket too.
Megan came to me with a paper and said, "I think the fuel injector's clogged. Or the fuel pump."
"Which is it, injector or pump?" I asked.
"Um, I wouldn't know until I began the fixing process." She replied.
I nodded and said, "You're 67% there."
"Really? Two out of three? What's the last one?" She asked, confused.
I smirked and said, "If I told you, it won't be a test, would it?"
"Damn it." She cursed and went back to the car.
Tyrell came afterward and said, "The compression in the engine is low."
"That's correct."
He added, "The battery's fine, but it's not charging. So bad alternator."
"That's also correct."
He nodded in satisfaction, smiling secretly.
"There's two more." I told him.
"The brake's clipper clamped up from rust, and two of the spark plugs are dirty." He replied.
"That's correct. You can do it yourself?" I asked casually.
Megan threw her hands up in the air next to us, feeling disappointed by her late examination. She did find the melted electrical wire, but Tyrell finished his car first.
It took only four hours to get the cars back into running. But that wouldn't be the only thing we would do with the cars.
We stripped them down, cleared out all of the rusts, and put undercoating on them.
"Hey, are you sure about your next project?" Megan asked carefully. "Bringing old cars to trade with the fixed up cars?"
I nodded and said, "We're not looking for profit now. Not until the two of you can work independently. Consider this a training month for the two of you."
Although I said that, I would still get a neat profit on the cars.
Now that the Corolla and the Granada were running again, which cost me only 200 bucks for both cars, I could sell them for 800 dollars and 600 dollars each. That was without the paint and detailing work.
After I was done with that, I could sell them at 1500 dollars for the Corolla, and 1400 dollars for the Granada.
Cosmetics played a huge factor in selling these cars. Getting new paint was a really good thing for the buyers since they didn't have to spend more money to get the car looking good.