“I’ve asked you to check a name.”
“And I said no.”
Derek looked at Theodore’s hands.
“You have oil on your fingers.”
“Yes.”
“You’re standing next to a four-hundred-thousand-dollar vehicle.”
“I haven’t touched it.”
“That’s not the point.”
“What’s the point?”
Derek looked around.
Several customers were watching.
That changed him.
An audience always changed people like Derek.
He raised his voice slightly.
“The point is that this showroom has standards.”
Theodore nodded.
“So check your appointment system.”
A young salesman near the window smiled.
Derek caught it.
Mistook it for encouragement.
Brenda walked behind the reception counter.
For one brief second, Theodore thought she might actually search his name.
Instead, she reached beneath the counter and pulled out a flyer for the used inventory lot.
She held it out.
“If you’re looking for something more realistic, our Ninth Street location has options beginning around twelve thousand.”
Theodore stared at the paper.
“I’m not.”
Brenda gave a small shrug.
“Just trying to help.”
“No, ma’am.”
“You’re trying to get rid of me politely.”
Derek laughed.
“Politely would have been enough five minutes ago.”
Theodore looked at him.
“What changed?”
“You’re wasting time.”
Derek gestured toward the Ferrari.
“Look at yourself.”
That sentence changed the air.
Brenda glanced at him.
Derek continued.
“Seriously.”
“Look.”
“Work boots.”
“Grease.”
“Old shirt.”
“That truck outside looks like it should be in a salvage auction.”
A couple near the Roma turned.
Another salesman stopped typing.
Theodore said:
“My truck runs.”
Derek smiled.
“That isn’t the compliment you think.”
A few people laughed.
Derek heard them.
Kept going.
“Cars like these are not for people who wander in from the street because they want to feel important for ten minutes.”
Theodore’s jaw tightened.
“I worked in automotive manufacturing for thirty-one years.”
“Wonderful.”
“I led powertrain assembly teams.”
“Congratulations.”
“I know more about what makes that car move than you know about the financing contract attached to it.”
The laughter stopped.
Derek’s eyes narrowed.
There it was.
Theodore had challenged status.
Not loudly.
Just accurately.
Derek stepped closer.
“You know what I know?”
“No.”
“I know when someone is wasting my staff’s time.”
“I know when someone cannot afford what he is touching.”
“I haven’t touched anything.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No.”
“I don’t.”
Theodore’s voice remained quiet.
“That seemed to irritate Derek more than shouting would have.
He turned toward security.
“Ray.”
Ray Patterson looked up from the desk near the entrance.
Six-foot-three.
Heavy build.
Former nightclub security.
Contracted through an outside company.
He approached.
Derek pointed toward Theodore.
“Escort him out.”
Theodore raised one hand.
“I can leave.”
Derek said:
“No.”
“You wanted the experience.”
“You’re getting the exit too.”
Theodore looked at Ray.
“I’ll walk.”
Ray reached for his upper arm.
Theodore stepped back.
“Don’t.”
Derek said: