- Hey, Ricky! You don't seem to be yourself! - A heavy calloused hand rested on Castle's shoulder. - I've been watching you for days now, and every minute I'm convinced I'm right. Are you, by any chance, sick?

- Oh, Howard, hello!" Without even turning his head, Castle recognized from his voice Howard Sparks, the head mechanic of the driving school and Rachel's close friend. - There's nothing wrong with me!

- What, the plot doesn't work or something worse? - Sparks peered into the open hood of the car in a matter-of-fact manner; shoved his hand inside and felt something meticulously.

"Howard the Duck!" - Castle grinned to himself, remembering their first meeting. That was when he gave him his nickname, too. It had to be said that the nickname corresponded to the mechanic's appearance completely. Sparks always moved leisurely, measured, shifting from leg to leg, diligently sticking out a baggy belly and always kept his hands behind his back. It was understandable that Howard wanted to look good, but in reality it was ridiculous to the point of being ridiculous. In addition, imagine the elongated, xenomorph-like skull with bald spots to the back of his head, the sparse white eyebrows, the small, olive green eyes, and the flattened, beak-like nose. It is clear that anyone would agree with Castle's assessment, but appearances, as we know, can be deceiving. A superb specialist with an innovative streak, friendly, courteous and attentive to one and all, Sparks was, among other things, a veritable treasure trove of entertaining stories. Short and long, funny and not so funny, informative or nothing at all, from Howard's lips they sounded so colorful that embarrassed Castle even dared to borrow a couple of original stories from the narrator, giving him one of his last books in return.

The dashing plot pleased Sparks. He willingly shared his impressions and even gave a master class on "exclusive" auto secrets. Yes, and the ancient bike Rick, on which the owner had long ago gave up, overhauled. So, their partnership turned out to be mutually beneficial and very fruitful, yes. After putting together the wiring diagram he'd been poring over for the past hour, Castle joined Sparks.

- Okay, Ricky, don't talk," Howard wasn't the least bit surprised by Castle's silence. Sparks, hooking a sheaf of multicolored wires through the bulkhead of the engine compartment, asked softly, "What do you got?

- It won't start. I got a short somewhere, but I can't figure out where.

- If you'd looked beyond the hangar wall and the ceiling and not at the circuitry, you'd have found it," Sparks grinned kindly, "or am I wrong?

- I'll be right in a jiffy! - Castle wasn't at all embarrassed by his sagacity. - I just need a little more time.

- Mmm, yes, yes, of course. You ready for the race? - as if casually, Howard dropped a question. Carefully probing the suspicious bundle with his fingers, he crawled up to his waist under the hood. - What had Louis said?

- "Time will bear it for now!" - Rick smiled at the uncomplicated quote. - However, that tricky track had already been updated. And the serpentine is just right. No complaints about the new piston - it was as good as new. Speed, nimbleness, power - it's all back a hundredfold. And I think we have excellent prospects with the hound.

- There, there," Sparks smiled fatherly, "but that's advice. Think less of the pupils and more of what's at stake.

- That's all I think about, and how to nail the next character in a more sophisticated way," Castle grimaced mirthlessly. Leaning on the wing, Rick watched the mechanic's deft fingers closely. His eyes narrowed, Howard hummed indefinitely, and then straightened up, rubbing his grease-black palms together in satisfaction.

- Don't you think I understand? I think it's what's-her-name... Beckett! - Sparks arched his eyebrows and snapped his fingers loudly, as if he were trying to remember, but Castle knew how tenacious his friend's memory was. -...didn't go to your head in a hurry. Rachel told me that you've been dragging her to night driving since your third lesson. And you don't take the safest roads. And you're probably serving coffee and bagels. That's brave! Very brave! And not at all like a working relationship? Tell me something. Do you really need it right now? You've got so many unresolved issues, you just need to be more circumspect. And trust me, Castle, this girl knows what she's worth. If you lose your head from her, and without any hope of reciprocation, it could end badly for you and your family! I hope you haven't forgotten your goal!

- No, I haven't! And I am more discreet and cautious than ever. I just don't get it: what's wrong with enjoying her company? - Castle spluttered his hands in surprise and froze, staring at the little ruff on Howard's cheekbone. - I act tactfully, and I should not be reproached with vulgar, reprehensible intentions, which are not in the slightest! And now in Beckett's classes, I have only two goals in mind: the seemingly more difficult, evening classes are much more fun than the day classes, and they also coincide with Alexis' dance classes. Imagine how much time we save! Now I can be even closer to my little girl, which can't help but feel good. And not only that...

- Well," said Sparks with a skeptical chuckle, "have it your way, but you look here.

Howard jabbed one of the knots with an oily, crooked finger:

- Take off and feel the wire coming from this terminal. I suspect a short here somewhere.

- Thank you," Castle sighed appreciatively, "we'll keep looking. I hope this isn't some kind of alien plot.

- I saw Star Trek. It was a lot more complicated than that. And you don't need a space hammer! Good luck," Howard hummed, walking away with his duck-like grace.

After glancing at his narrow-shouldered back, Rick returned to his work, scolding himself for his armlessness in the process.

"What an "expert"! Couldn't find a basic malfunction! Shame on you!" - Castle swiftly replaced the suspicious wire, carefully pulled the terminals, then again critically examined everything and moved into the cabin. "Stapled" the steering wheel and the selector box with a series of intricate passes, not forgetting to frantically mutter spells from "The Wizard of Oz". I took a deep breath and turned the ignition key. There was a dry click, and... oh, miracle, the car started!

- Long live super warrior Castle! What did he care about some stubborn auto-beasts! - Rick turned the interior mirror to himself to enjoy his own triumphant look. - He's worth something too, heh!

In the narrow mirror his own smug face stared back at Castle, with its disheveled hair and brown patches of dirt all over his face; a greasy black smear of soot over his right eyebrow. Hell, he wasn't a handsome man now, but rather a lousy garbage man! And Castle reached into the glove compartment for some wet wipes. He had to get himself cleaned up before the most unlikely of his students arrived. Glancing at his watch, Rick nodded firmly to himself. Of course he was perfectly capable of any task, but sometimes you just want the bastard out of the world!

A new problem had surfaced a little less than a week ago. On that one memorable, relatively free day, Rick had given the car a general cleaning: washed it, pounded out the covers, shook out the mats, and polished the bodywork to a shine. The only thing that still bothered my eyes was pieces of dirt and dust in nooks and crannies of the "torpedo", dashboard and heater deflectors. Having rolled up a piece of cloth with a flagellum, Castle sat down in his place and was about to raise his hand, when suddenly...

- Hello, sir! - the smell of peppermint and the fierce scent of sweat wafted in through the open window. Turning around, Castle bumped his nose into huge mirrored glasses, hiding a good half of someone's face. - Would that be you, by any chance, Mr. Castle?

- It was me this morning, and yesterday, and the day before, and even a year ago - it was all me. What did you want? - Rick smiled kindly, scrutinizing the stranger.

Stepping back as if on cue, hands across his chest, the tall fellow amused himself by first inflating and then popping pink bubbles. His powerful shoulders and huge chest were encircled by a wrinkled Hawaiian shirt; a blue baseball cap, visor askew, carelessly covered his long, curly, hippie-like hair, carelessly strewn across his shoulders. On the glossy, muscular neck was a thick silver chain with a massive skull. He had an eagle-like, "southern" nose, very dark, almost black skin, puffy, "African" lips, and barrel-shaped, hamster-like cheeks. It is impossible to determine either race or nationality. Most likely, the dude had a mix of blood, like components in a fic*. Well, that's not important, now that he's here!

- You have been appointed my instructor," the future apprentice bowed his head sideways in response to the mute assertion; he burped loudly and unashamedly with a smirk in all his thirty-two teeth. His smile was surprisingly smooth, "Hollywood. - Don't you still know that? As far as I know, for all their blunders and banal ignorance instructors have to pay their own pockets!

- That's none of your business, and don't sing to me, mister, about the obvious," Castle smiled modestly and clenched his fists even tighter on the steering wheel, "because I was taught the alphabet from birth.

He was ashamed to admit it, but he did not like this boorish big man in a stale shirt and stained frayed jeans. And the owner of the "rags" himself could do with a wash! Trying not to wrinkle his nose, Castle even moved a little back into the cabin. Putting aside the rag, he put out through the window his unfolded left palm.

- May I see your card?

- By the way, my name is Constantine," the guy smirked slyly, and carelessly scraped his spread fingers under his right ear, "it's all written there.

Rick took the card, squinted at Rachel's scribbles. She was writing like a whip, she couldn't make out a thing. Especially the last name.

- And how many classes have you paid for, Mr...er?

- Sorentas! - the guy chewed loudly and scratched himself indecently, defiantly. He looked as if he had been attacked by fleas like a stray dog. I can't drive yet, but I'd like to learn. But if I think I have blabbed at your driving school and wasted my time and money," he said in his guttural voice, "I will find a way to get you. Do you understand me?

Rick pressed his lips together tensely. Wow, they're trying to "build him up" practically on nothing! What the hell had he done? Pissed on the fender of that Sorentz's future car, or smeared his fancy glasses in the droppings? Or maybe he kicked him in the Friday rush or kneed him in the groin? No, they had never met before, and Konstantin himself can hardly be counted among his admirers. Rather, he looks like a man who spits on everyone and everything, except himself. And this blatant arrogance, disdain and rudeness is clearly the cost of upbringing.

With a noisy sigh, Castle ruffled the hair at the back of his head. Fine, he'd get through two weeks, and if anything, he'd switch schedules with Kessler or Jordan. And even Rachel wouldn't say anything to him. At least he'd see Beckett soon, and her mere presence would sweeten the most enduring bitterness of unpleasant intercourse. True, he wasn't going to let the insolent man get away with it at all.

- I got it! - However, it is strictly forbidden to let strangers into the boxes, and if after you I have anything missing, then blame yourself! The police won't be long in coming! No, well, if you prefer S&M with handcuffs, of course, I'll wash my hands of you, but if not, there are other options. And that's my choice. So, are we going to talk about the inflexible self, or are we going to talk about business, which is much better than bickering?

-Eck!

Konstantin didn't seem to expect such a harsh rebuff. His athletic hand, with its tattooed wrist, reached for his glasses, but hovered halfway; the well-defined outline of his lips curved into a curved ellipse.

- You take too much on yourself, mister! Don't let it be a pity! - Sorentas spat greedily at his feet and galloped to the exit.

Castle rode out after him. His surly apprentice stood not far from the gate, with his hands behind his back, and rocking from toe to heel, closely watching the driving range. He got into the car briskly, deftly, and almost noiselessly. With a charming smile, as if nothing had happened, he turned to Castle:

- Well, go ahead, point your finger at the right buttons, and I'll steer! And for my money, loving the score, you owe me, sir, all your skills! Okay?

Rick squinted incredulously, ran his fist through his hair in contemplation. What a "fruit" this Sorentas was! Not a man, but a hidden psychopath! I wonder if I would have to test his manly jaw for sure. And what if Constantine is captured by demonic forces, and without some mysterious artifacts he, Castle, can't do without? Ugh, save and save! Rick mentally crossed himself and said as calmly as he could:

- The clutch releases more gently than a butterfly caught by hand. Listen to me carefully, and it'll work...

...Just a couple of unfortunate hours, and Castle was naturally sweating. And only because in all his life he had never met such an inattentive, careless, self-confident and unbalanced student. Constantine practically did not listen to advice, and his "diligence" made the car twitch, pant, throttle and pitifully rattle all its gears, which caused only an idiotic cackle from Sorentas. To all fair rebukes the apprentice sassed him mercilessly, accusing Castle of his own incompetence and obtuseness, and was not shy about giving the other apprentices and instructors the middle finger in a scabrous assessment of their driving abilities.

"Well, what an energy vampire, and on top of that, a real descendant of the Luddites!" - Castle was angry in his heart, estimating what the repairs would cost after such "lessons". Besides, Beckett was about to show up, and the big man with the horse-like attitude was as if he could not see the timer attached under his nose. Finally, Castle couldn't stand it.

- Sir, your time is up! And what makes you think you have the right to take it from others?" and Rick jabbed his finger at the windshield. Through the dusty triplex he could see a thin girl with a long braid on her shoulder as she strutted out upon the porch. With her palm against her forehead, Kate stared in their direction. - And how can you expect me to enforce any rules if you're the one who breaks them?

- I don't care! It's none of your business! - Konstantin noisily, with a whistle sucked in the air and lubricated, from the bottom of his throat, he cackled out the window. - And nothing you have "chicks" scattered here, and I will not believe that you stayed away! Driving and pick-up all rolled into one, huh? Oh, I can see you're quite the plowman. Can I join the party? Not a single woman has ever complained about me, and I would love to try out your comfortable sexodrome on myself! Well, how about it?" winked Sorentas cheekily, but then he caught Castle's unpromising stare.

- Hey, take it easy! Easy on the bends, mister! And don't forget to pick up your loose tongue, which sooner or later is bound to squeeze the wheel! - Rick could barely contain himself from throwing the rude man out, and he didn't care what Rachel had to say next. - Now, and without objection, proceed to the parking lot, or to be more precise, to the front porch itself!

But Sorentas, with a dismissive chuckle, dismissed the lecture defiantly. Suddenly shutting off the engine just around the bend, thirty yards from the porch, Constantine rested his chest on the steering wheel, watching for a thin figure, impatiently shifting from foot to foot, and suddenly jumped out.

- Mister, dock it yourself! It's much easier for you, and I'm still just learning! - Without saying goodbye, Konstantin heartily slammed the door, and jumped straight through the playground of the driving range into the gate, locked only on the gut latch. Thanks to the winding path between the bushes, he did not need to trample his feet in the alley, and shortened the way to the subway station.