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“Oh, this looks nice,” I say. It seems to be in pretty decent condition, with no dents or scrapes, like I might be expecting.
Gabe eyes it with suspicion. “A Nissan Versa?” he asks skeptically. “How many miles does it have?”
“Ninety-five, but she’s still running like she’s got less than fifty, and she’s a newer model.”
As I pop open the driver’s-side door to look inside, Gabriel immediately goes to open the hood. It doesn’t take him more than two minutes to close it with a bang, and when I see his face, I can tell he’s less than impressed.
“No, I think we’re good on that one. I saidreliable,” he emphasizes, his tone icy.
The salesperson visibly swallows. “Right, yes, I know just the one for you.” Marching us over to a green Mitsubishi Mirage, he gestures to the vehicle. “This has only been at our lot for about a week, but it’s gotten a good amount of interest. Great mileage. Only one previous owner.”
Once again, Gabriel pops the hood. I watch on with fascination this time, curious about what he might be seeing. But whatever it is, he doesn’t take the time to show me. Instead, he slams the hood closed and scans the lot.
“Would you like to take this one for a drive?” the salesman asks, patting his hair as if to ensure all the product has still managed to keep it in place.
“Since you can’t seem to grasp the simple concept of reliability, we will no longer require your services. If the manager would like to come find us, I’m happy to speak with him about purchasing a car,” Gabriel says, his eyes continuing to scan the lot, not bothering to look in the salesman’s direction.
The salesman visibly pales, and he starts to sweat. “Uh, uh, um…” he stutters as he pulls at the collar of his shirt.
“Go get me the manager,” Gabriel commands more authoritatively.
The salesman practically jumps out of his skin before scuttling away without a word.
As if completely oblivious to the reaction his tone received, Gabriel takes my hand in his as he flashes me a smile. Then he pulls me farther toward the back of the lot as he continues to shift his gaze back and forth, scanning their inventory.
“You nearly made him wet his pants,” I snicker as I follow.
Gabriel chuckles darkly. “Good. He was trying to pawn off one of his lemons. Probably thinks because we look young, we’ll go for anything he says.”
He gives me a wink, and it makes my heart flutter nervously.How is it that he can be so impossibly good-looking?And I don’t know why, but watching him handle the sleazy car salesman is a turn on for me.
Finally, we stop in front of a cute deep-red Toyota Corolla. It’s one of the older models on the lot and certainly not the first one I would have picked out of the lineup. But I trust Gabe to know a good car when he sees one. He’s spent enough time in the Devil’s Sons’ shop. Like the last two times, rather than starting with the inside of the car, Gabriel immediately goes for the hood. Once again, I follow him, prepared to at least attempt to see what he sees.
But rather than inspecting it silently this time, Gabriel starts to point things out to me. Beginning with the engine, he explains that the car looks like it’s in pretty good shape.
“There aren’t any cracks or leaks around the engine. All the hoses look like they’re in good shape,” he says, pointing out each piece as he goes. “The frame looks nice and straight, so I would say this car hasn’t been in any bad accidents. This here is the coolant and brake master cylinder look nice and topped off, nothing dripping there. The power steering pumps look nice and clean.”
Unscrewing a cap on the engine, Gabriel explains, “See how the underside of this oil fill cap is nice and clean? Just a bit of oil?”
I nod.
“That’s a good thing. If it’s goopy or has like a milky kind of oil, that could mean it has a head gasket leak.”
I’m pretty sure he just said something in a foreign language, but I get that point that goopy means it’s bad. Step by step, Gabriel walks me through each thing he wants to check, even pointing out the catalytic converter when I stoop beneath the car with him to see what he sees.
I love that he’s even trying to explain all of this to me. I’m sure I won’t retain all of it, but I suppose it will be good to know if I’m going to take on a used car. That might save me some trouble if my car acts up somewhere down the road.
By the time Gabriel’s closing the hood of the car once more, a tall, slender man with a serious combover is approaching, a friendly expression on his face.
“Interested in taking her for a test drive?” he asks, holding up the keys for the Corolla. Then he extends his hand to shake Gabe’s and then mine as soon as he’s near. “Henry. I’m the owner of this shop.”
“Yes, we’ll take this one for a spin,” Gabe says, passing over the pleasantries.
I can see from the owner’s face that he was expecting a bit more acknowledgment for gracing us with his presence. Taking the keys from Henry’s hands, Gabriel hands them to me.
“Why don’t you start her up?” he suggests.
I grin hesitantly, not quite sure what I should be looking for when I do. But Gabriel stands outside the car and instructs me to rev the engine a few times before he climbs into the passenger seat. Henry slides into the back seat before I take the car out of park.
