Skin Games Read Online Free PDF Page A

car.”
    “Okay.”
    Jose walked to the back, and I twisted the new oil filter in place.
    “Hey, kid,” Vinny said.  “You know, you can make some money.  Real money, not this five-bucks-an-hour shit I’m paying you for doing oil changes.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Toyotas are hot right now.  And easy as shit to hotwire.”
    “Really?”
    “Let me show you.”
  Vinny grabbed a long screwdriver from a toolbox then took me into the back lot.  I’d never been back there before.  It was a graveyard for old vehicles.  They were stripped of anything identifying or of any value.  Just skeletons for the most part: no windows, no windshields, no headlights.  Some were burned.  Others were part crushed or fully crushed. 
    We walked deep into the lot.  I heard barking, and two pit bull terriers charged me.
    “No!” Vinny yelled.  And the dogs immediately stopped running.  They began to sniff me up and down.  Vinny laughed, then said, “Don’t worry, Shamrock Sean.  Those dogs are very obedient.”
    “I see that.”
    He laughed again.  “Made you shit in your pants, though.”
    “I’ll say.  I don’t like dogs.”
    “You don’t like dogs?  What’s the matter with you?”
    “I don’t know.  They scare me.”
    “Forget that.  Come here.”  Vinny walked up to a small Toyota Corolla.  It was old and rusted almost to the core.  But it wasn’t stripped like most of the other cars.  It still had windows and headlights along with four working tires.
    He stepped in the passenger side and motioned for me to get in on the driver’s side.  Vinny took the screwdriver and wedged it into the dashboard.
    “Watch and learn.”
    He yanked the screwdriver, and the dashboard came loose.
    “See how easy that is?”
    I nodded.
    Vinny put the screwdriver into the keyhole and knocked it out.  “Still watching?” he asked.
    I nodded again.
    “It’s easy work.  And the pay is good.  A car like this gets you five hundred.”
    Five hundred dollars was more than I’d ever seen at one time in my life.
    Vinny pulled at the wires inside the keyhole.  “If the body’s in better shape, I can give you more.  Say six or even seven hundred.”  He put the wires together, and pricked them against each other.  “A Caddy like Don Mario’s is at least a grand.  Easy.  But I recommend you start with Corollas.  They’re easier to start up.  You work your way up to Caddies when you’re ready.”  The ignition turned over, and the engine hummed.  “You see.  Easy.”
    I nodded and said, “I see.”
    “Corollas.  They’re everywhere, and they’re easy to steal, and I can unload the parts easy.  Get it?”
    “Yep.”
    “Good.  Bring me Corollas, kid.”
    * *
    It was twenty past midnight.  Scrubby was twenty minutes late.  I sat on the wood bench on my front porch on the chilly October night, quietly waiting.  My mother was in her room, sound asleep no doubt.  The lights to the Griffin’s apartment were dark as well.  It was a work night; a Tuesday if I recall correctly.  The entire row of houses was dark and quiet.
    I stared at the ground, kicking my sneakers together.  When I got antsy, I got up and paced back and forth a bit.  I looked down the street for Scrubby, straining my neck to see as far down as I possibly could.
    It must have been well past twelve-thirty when I finally heard him coming.  The roar of his muffler could be heard at least a block before his headlights came into view.  But soon after I heard the racket, the bluish beam of his tinted headlights came shining down the road.  Then I could smell the foul exhaust.
    I was already coming down the walkway when Scrubby stopped the black Monte Carlo and hit the horn.  I quickly jumped in, wanting to yell at him to keep it down, but unable to muster up the courage.
    Instead, I said, “I’m ready.”
    Scrubby Mike looked over at me, smiled his doofy smile and said, “Let’s do this.”
    He gunned the engine and his tires