Chương 2
“Mr. Bennett,” he said.
“Noah.”
“All right. Noah. I didn’t know who you were.”
“I know.”
Derek glanced at Leonard.
No help came.
He looked back at Noah.
“That doesn’t excuse how that looked.”
“How it looked?”
Mia’s lips pressed together.
Derek heard it too late.
“No,” he said quickly. “What I mean is—what happened. I shouldn’t have handled it that way.”
Noah let the silence sit.
Derek’s breathing had become audible.
“You said I shouldn’t touch the car.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Derek’s eyes flicked toward the McLaren.
“You were leaning inside it.”
“The door was open.”
“You weren’t with a salesperson.”
“Mia was standing right there.”
Mia shifted her weight.
Derek looked at her.
“You were checking inventory.”
“She asked me to wait.”
Derek’s jaw tightened.
Noah could see him reaching for a version of events that would make his behavior sound procedural instead of personal.
“You had a backpack,” Derek said finally.
Noah looked down at it.
“That’s true.”
“There have been theft issues.”
Leonard frowned.
“What theft issues?”
Derek’s gaze moved toward him.
“Accessories. Things disappearing. A set of sunglasses last month.”
Mia spoke before she seemed to decide to.
“Those were found in the customer lounge.”
Derek turned.
She immediately looked as if she wished she could put the sentence back in her mouth.
Leonard stared at Derek.
Noah felt the first clean edge of anger move through him.
Not because Derek had mistaken him for someone without money. That part was almost funny.
It was the search for justification after the fact.
Noah walked to the McLaren and stopped beside the driver’s door.
He did not touch it.
“Pitch me the car.”
Derek blinked.
“What?”
“You wanted me away from it. Now sell it to me.”
The middle-aged couple near the Ferrari had stopped pretending not to listen.
A younger employee near the coffee counter stared at his shoes.
Leonard started to speak.
Noah lifted one hand without looking at him.
It surprised him that Leonard stopped.
Derek straightened his tie.
The movement restored something to him. Routine. Muscle memory. A place to stand.
“This is a McLaren Artura,” he began. “Twin-turbo V6 hybrid powertrain, carbon-fiber architecture, extremely low weight for—”
“Who buys it?”
Derek hesitated.
“People who want performance without giving up usability.”
“That’s a brochure answer.”
Derek’s eyes hardened by a fraction.
“It’s accurate.”
“Sure. Who buys it from you?”
A pause.
“Professionals. Business owners. Collectors. People who understand what they’re buying.”
Noah glanced at the car.
“And people with backpacks?”
Mia looked down.
Derek inhaled through his nose.
“You asked me to pitch the car.”
“I did.”
“Then let me.”
There it was.
A little of the old Derek returning.
Noah almost smiled.
“Go ahead.”
Derek moved to the front quarter panel. His gestures became smoother. He knew the machine. That much was obvious. He described the steering feel without exaggerating it, talked about the hybrid system in practical terms, mentioned visibility, service intervals, depreciation, options that mattered and options that mostly existed to raise the sticker price.
For ninety seconds, he was excellent.
Noah watched Leonard while Derek spoke.
Leonard was watching Derek too.
Not with surprise.
Recognition.
That interested Noah more than the pitch.
When Derek finished, Noah asked, “What’s your first question when someone walks in?”
Derek looked irritated now.
“What they’re looking for.”
“Did you ask me?”
Silence.
“What’s your second question?”
“Budget.”
“You didn’t ask that either.”
“You were inside a car without permission.”
“The door was opened for me.”
Derek looked at Mia.
Mia’s fingers tightened around the tablet.
“I opened it,” she said.
Leonard’s head turned.
“You did?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She glanced at Noah.
“Because he asked if we had the black one with the standard seats instead of the performance buckets. I checked inventory. We do. I told him I’d be right back.”
Derek stared at her.
“You didn’t tell me that.”
“You didn’t ask.”
The sentence came out soft.
It still landed.
Leonard exhaled.
“Office. Now.”
This time Noah did not stop him.
Derek looked at Noah as if waiting for another twist.
None came.
He walked toward Leonard’s office, his shoes making sharp sounds on the polished floor. At the doorway he paused, then seemed to think better of whatever he had been about to say.
The door closed behind him.
The showroom remained too quiet.
Noah looked around.
There were seven employees within sight.
All seven suddenly found something else to do.
The receptionist began typing at a speed that suggested she was trying to win a contest.
The man at the coffee bar cleaned the same patch of counter three times.
The couple near the Ferrari moved toward the exit.
Noah looked at Mia.
“Did we just lose them?”
She followed his gaze.
“Probably.”
“Great first hour.”
To his surprise, she laughed.
Only once.
Then she covered it with a cough.
Leonard did not.
“This isn’t funny.”
“I know.”
“You should let me terminate him.”
“I might.”
“Might?”
Noah adjusted the backpack strap.
“It’s been four minutes.”
“He put his hands on you.”
“He put his hands on the bag.”
“He pulled it off your body.”
Noah glanced toward the office.
“I noticed.”
Leonard lowered his voice.
“Then stop trying to prove you’re reasonable.”
That hit harder than Noah expected.
He looked at the older man.
Leonard’s expression was controlled, but the anger had not faded. If anything, it had settled.
Noah had known him for eleven months. First by video calls, then over dinners, then across a closing table full of attorneys who billed in six-minute increments and had somehow stretched every conversation into an hour.
Leonard had built Vale Performance Motors from a used-car lot near Torrance into one of the highest-revenue independent exotic dealerships in Southern California. He was proud of the business in a way Noah understood and distrusted.
Pride could protect standards.
It could also protect rot.
“Were there complaints about him?” Noah asked.
Leonard’s eyes shifted.
Only slightly.
May you like
But Mia saw it too.
Noah knew because her tablet moved against her uniform as her hand tightened.
