Page 2 of Baby Girl

“Seventy-three grand, Erik. Fully loaded with the dual clutch,” he offered with a smile.

“I will give you sixty-five, Darwin. Same as before, no negotiating, no bullshit, and no fucking counter offer,” I said, turning to make eye contact with him.

“Fine, Erik. That’s fine. Will you pay with a check at least?”

I had bought four cars here since the death of my mother five years ago. I, being the only child, inherited the estate. There was no forewarning of her death, she was hit by a drunk driver at a stop light, and killed instantly. There was also no indication of what I was to inherit. Apparently my deceased father was a fairly wealthy man, by the story that I was told. The attorney, upon the death of my mother, told me of his knowledge of my father, and his wealth.

I had attended college, and was, from an education standpoint, a psychiatrist. My heart, my mind, and my spirit, however, prevented me from immediately practicing. Upon the completion of the medical portion of my education, I had decided to relax, and take a year or so and travel the country on my motorcycle. I had ridden a motorcycle all through college, and found it to be a useful tool in my arsenal. Thirty minutes on a motorcycle could provide me with what ten hours of therapy could not. Relaxation. The motorcycle rides and exercise were all that could really allow me to completely relax. When I wasn’t riding, I was generally exercising. This combination of being fit, being tattooed, and being single afforded me opportunities with women that other men could only wish for.

After the death of my mother, I inherited two million dollars, a two bedroom house, and a ten year old Chevrolet Impala. I had just returned home from a motorcycle trip to Austin, Texas. It was mid-June, and she had gone to the pharmacy for medication. Two blocks from home, while waiting at a stop light, she was hit by a drunken driver in the rear. She and the other driver were killed instantly. I never fully accepted that no one was punished for the crime. Five years later, I was still running from the fact that my mother was gone, and that I was a parentless only child.

I decided after my mother’s death to do what it was that always made me happy. I spent the last five years riding my motorcycle every day that the weather would allow. Six months after her death, at the age of thirty-one, I got my first tattoo. That continued until the majority of my upper body was covered in tattoos. One arm was tattooed to the wrist, the other was tattooed to the elbow, my back was covered, and my chest and abdomen were covered with a large Chinese themed snake.

I continued to live in Wichita, which was where I considered my home to be. I grew up here, my mother and my father died here, and a good portion of the people from my childhood remained in this area. Although I could travel out of the state, my mind would not allow me to remain away for very long. I became home sick in a short period of time.

“No, I am paying in cash,” I said in an irritated tone.

“Erik, you know it’s about impossible for us to take that kind of cash. We have to report it…”

I did not even let him finish his sentence before I spoke, “You’ll take the cash, and you’ll figure out a way to make it work. Cash or no deal.”

I got a tremendous amount of satisfaction out of forcing people to do what it was that I wanted. Something that was contrary to what they would normally do. Something that wasn’t necessarily a knee-jerk reaction for them, even if it was insignificant. It really didn’t matter if it was convincing the car salesman to take cash for a seventy thousand dollar car, or convincing a woman to go down on me in a movie theatre. If their natural response would be “no”, I wanted to make them say “yes”. Getting them to do so was what fueled me. It allowed me to live a satisfied life. The money and the material objects that I had obtained in my latter years provided no real satisfaction; they merely provided me a means.

“Alright, Erik, we will figure out something,” Darwin said as he stood. “Do you want to see it?”

“Just go get it and bring it up front, I am ready to go eat lunch.”

“It’s way out back, Erik, you want to ride back there with me on the cart?”

“No, get it and bring it up here. You can get someone else to give you a ride back to get your cart later.”

“Alright, Erik. Give me about ten minutes.”

I watched as the salesman walked out to the golf cart, and drove toward the back lot of the dealership. As he drove away, I walked from his office toward the receptionist desk. The desk was positioned in the middle of the sales floor amidst the new cars that were randomly parked on display. As I maneuvered through the cars to get to the desk, I caught a glimpse of the receptionist. Standing at the desk, now wearing glasses, she was talking to a customer. As I approached the desk, the customer nodded and walked away. She began to sit, and as I walked up to the desk, I spoke.

“Can you tell me where the bathroom is, I need to wash my hands,” I said, rubbing my hands together.

“Sure, you passed it as you walked from the other side of the sales floor. It’s half-way back to the east, and first door on the left,” she said, pointing to the east side of the showroom floor.

“So do you pay attention to all of the customers walking the sales floor, or were you just watching me for some reason?” I asked, forcing myself to present a little smirk of a smile.

“Well, actually, I was admiring your tattoos earlier, when you were in Darwin’s office. It was hard not to notice, with your tattooed arms against your white t-shirt. They, well…they stand out. I really like tattoos, and the stories behind them. I don’t have any, but I am going to get some soon. As soon as I…well. I am going to here real soon. I just need to decide what and where,” She said as she stared at my right arm.

“First door on the left?”

“Yes,” she said, with a somewhat disappointed tone.

“I’m Erik. I would shake your hand, but they’re dirty.”

“I’m Kelli. With an ‘I’,” she responded. “Nice to meet you.”

“Kelli, walk with me toward to restroom. I want to watch you walk.”

“Excuse me?” She asked, raising one eyebrow, attempting unsuccessfully to hide a smile.

“Come with me, walk in front of me, please,” I responded, stepping away from the receptionist desk.

“Well, actually, I am supposed to stay here and answer the phone.”