Page 113 of Dirty Judge

OLIVIA

“This is the best we have to offer for your budget, Miss Spencer.” The car salesman escorted me to a long line of used Nissans on a Friday afternoon.

“I already drive a Nissan,” I said. “I want something different.”

“These are all different colors from what you have, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, there you go.”

“I mean like a differentmodel,” I said. “Maybe an upgrade? I’m trading my old one in, and it has to be worth something, right?”

“Lady, I’m being generous by even allowing you to trade in that soup can you’ve been driving.” He shook his head. “You’re only getting a five-hundred-dollar credit for it.”

“Five hundred dollars? That’s it?”

“How much do you think your car is worth?”

“Five thousand, easy.”

“What?” He burst into laughter, holding his stomach. He bent over and started choking, and a small part of me didn’t want to help him survive.

“You said you were going to negotiate with me!” I walked over and patted his back. “You promised over the phone to give me the best offer.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He caught his breath and looked at my car, then at me. “I’ll give you a five-hundred-and-twenty-dollar credit for it. Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it…”

“I thought so.” He handed me his business card. “Feel free to take your time checking all these out. Call me whenever you want to test drive your top three.”

“Thanks.”

He tipped his hat and walked away.

Holding back a groan, I slid behind the wheel of an army-green one, but it smelled like swamp water.

I moved to the one next to it—a bright red one—but the leather seats were torn.

“Don’t panic, Liv.” I moved to the next. “It’s just until you finish law school. Just until you finish law school.”

As I was moving out of a cerulean one with a broken radio, a bright red Ferrari swerved into the parking lot, stopping right in front of me.

Liam?

The driver’s side door opened, and he stepped out in a white button-down shirt and custom black pants. His gavel cufflinks gleamed in the sunlight, and his lips curved into a smile the moment his eyes met mine.

“So…” he said, stepping closer. “You’re finally selling that thing you call a car?”

“Hello to you, Liam,” I said. “It’s nice to see you.”

“You know I like to skip over the obvious parts of a conversation.” He looked me up and down. “You’re beautiful as hell.”

“It’s some lovely weather we’re having in this city these days.” I swallowed as he moved closer. “It’s been an entire week without any gray skies.”

“I read your article inThe New York Timesthis morning,” he said. “Very good work—as always.”

“I only did the research part. Not the writing.”