Theodore heard the difference.
“My son arranged a test drive.”
Derek folded his arms.
“Your son.”
“Yes.”
“Name?”
“Elliot Foster.”
Something flashed across Derek’s face.
Recognition.
Of course he knew Elliot.
Elliot was chairman and chief executive of the group that owned the building Derek managed.
Derek looked again at Theodore.
Boots.
Flannel.
Grease around fingernails.
Rusty truck outside.
Then he smiled.
Not kindly.
“You’re saying Elliot Foster arranged for you to test-drive a Ferrari.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“And you are?”
“Theodore Foster.”
Derek knew the name vaguely.
He had heard Elliot mention his father.
Perhaps in speeches.
Perhaps in company literature.
But no image came to mind.
Theodore saw the moment Derek could have checked.
Computer twenty feet away.
Executive assistant directory.
Appointment system.
One call.
Instead, Derek decided.
“Sir, Elliot Foster is the owner of this group.”
“I know.”
Derek almost laughed.
“And you expect me to believe you’re his father.”
“I don’t need you to believe me.”
“Just check the appointment.”
Derek’s smile disappeared.
“This is not a public museum.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
“These vehicles are extremely valuable.”
“I know.”
“Our clients expect a particular environment.”
Theodore looked around.
Then back.
“I’m here to drive a car.”
Derek turned toward Brenda Cole.
“Brenda.”
She approached.
Mid-thirties.
Blonde hair.
Cream blazer.
Tablet beneath one arm.
“What?”
Derek gestured toward Theodore.
“Mr. Foster here says Elliot personally invited him to choose any car in the building.”
Brenda looked at Theodore.
Then through the window at the Chevy.
She laughed once before she could stop herself.
Then covered it with a cough.
“Any car?”
“That’s what my son said.”
Derek smiled.
“His son.”
Brenda’s mouth curled.
Theodore remained calm.
“Could one of you check the name?”
Brenda asked:
“Do you have identification?”
“I do.”
“Proof of appointment?”
“My son made it.”
“Confirmation email?”
“No.”
Derek said:
“Of course not.”
Theodore looked at him.
“Sir.”
“Call Elliot.”
Derek’s expression hardened.
“I am not calling the CEO because someone walks in claiming to be related to him.”
“You don’t have to call him.”
“Call his office.”
“Check your system.”
“No.”
Theodore paused.
That no mattered.
Not uncertainty.
Not procedure.
Refusal.
Derek leaned closer.
“You people always have a story.”
Theodore became still.
“What people?”
Derek did not answer directly.
“People who come into places they have no business being and expect everybody else to entertain the performance.”
Brenda shifted.
Not because she objected.
Because she sensed the language getting dangerous.
Theodore said: