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“Thanks again,” I said.
I got up and Bridge followed me to the station. The teller greeted us and began to count out the cash. I nodded when she laid down the last hundred. She tucked it into another envelope and handed it over. I placed both envelopes in the inside pocket of my coat. We left and got into our vehicles. Bridge followed me to one of the upscale dealerships off the highway and I’d never been more grateful for the silence. I was starting to feel I was in over my head.
Chapter Ten
“Welcome to—” the girl at the front desk began, but I cut her off, frustrated, overwhelmed and feeling like we’d wasted too much time already.
“Is your manager in?” I asked.
If she was taken aback by my abruptness, her expression didn’t show it. “Of course, just a moment,” she said, removing herself from her chair and click-clacking over to the manager’s office.
“Can I help you?” an overweight gentleman with a buzz cut asked.
“Spencer Blackwell,” I said, offering my hand.
My name registered with him. “Ah, Mister Blackwell, you can call me Jeff. How are you this morning?”
“I’m well, Jeff. I need to unload these two vehicles,” I said, pointing to my Aston and Bridge’s SLS.
“What are you looking for them?” he asked.
“No less than one-point-two.” His eyes lit up. They were worth half a million more resale.
“I can’t do that,” he said, already chiming in with a cliché.
“How about this, have your men check them out. See if they meet your standards, then we’ll talk.”
I didn’t really have time for this. I was already getting antsy. We’d wasted hours.
“Fine. Martin!” he shouted toward the girl at the desk. She nodded and pressed a button.
A man in blue coveralls came out.
“Martin, can you check out these vehicles for me.”
“Yes, sir,” Martin answered.
Twenty minutes later and Martin returned with a thumbs up, saving Bridge and me from ridiculous small talk with the car salesman. “SLS needs some realigning, but other than that they’re perfection.”
“My office?” Jeff asked.
I nodded and followed him back before sitting before him.
“And you have the titles?” he asked.
“In my pocket.”
“Why do you want to sell?” he asked.
“Unnecessary,” I answered. “Are you interested or not?”
“I’ll take them for one.”
“Not in a million years,” I challenged, sliding deeper into my chair, my right hand casually resting on the side of my face. “I’ve offered one-point-two. It’s more than fair. They’re in almost perfect condition, and their commercial resale is close to one-point-seven. You know it. I know it. But if you feel like you need to win here, how about we meet in the middle?”
“I’m listening,” he said.
Fifteen minutes later, Bridge and I walked out the sliding front door and stood, another check next to the one I already had, and our bags at our feet.
