Chương 5
Someone laughed.
Noah nodded.
“Unfortunately, we are now a corporation.”
That loosened the room slightly.
Then a salesman named Trent spoke.
“Derek’s our top producer.”
The room tightened again.
Noah looked at him.
“I’ve seen the numbers.”
“He made this place a lot of money.”
“I saw those too.”
“So that matters, right?”
“It matters.”
Trent seemed surprised.
Noah continued.
“It just doesn’t answer the question.”
“What question?”
“What we’re willing to let someone do because they sell a lot of cars.”
Nobody answered.
Leonard stood with both hands behind his back.
Noah looked at him once.
The older man’s face revealed nothing.
After the meeting, Greg caught Noah near the vending machines.
“You shouldn’t have said that about Leonard’s transition.”
Noah turned.
Greg was forty-eight, according to the employee summary Noah had read at six that morning, and had worked at Vale Performance Motors for fourteen years.
“Why?”
“Because people heard uncertainty.”
“There is uncertainty.”
“You don’t advertise it.”
“It was their meeting.”
“It was your first meeting.”
Noah stared at him.
Greg did not look away.
“You want advice?”
“Not particularly.”
Greg gave one small nod.
“Then I’ll save it.”
He walked away.
Noah stood beside the vending machine feeling foolish.
Mia passed him carrying two empty coffee cups.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You have a face.”
“I’ve been told.”
She kept walking.
He called after her.
“Was that bad?”
She stopped.
“Which part?”
“The meeting.”
She considered.
“You looked your age.”
Then she walked away.
Noah watched her go.
That evening, the showroom emptied slowly.
The dealership usually closed at seven, but salespeople lingered when customers did, and a man considering the Aston Martin spent forty minutes asking questions about ceramic brakes before announcing he had to discuss the color with his wife.
Noah sat at Derek’s desk after everyone left.
He did not use the chair at first.
The chair felt personal.
That thought annoyed him, so he sat in it anyway.
Derek’s desk was cleaner than Noah expected. Two pens aligned beside a legal pad. A framed photograph of a woman and a little girl at a beach. A bottle of hand sanitizer. A tiny model Porsche 911. No evidence of villainy.
Of course not.
People rarely decorated their desks with the worst parts of themselves.
Leonard appeared with two coffees.
“You drink it black.”
It was not a question.
Noah took the cup.
“You remember.”
“I remember things.”
They sat without speaking.
Outside, traffic moved beyond the glass wall. Headlights slid across the showroom ceiling.
Leonard loosened his tie.
Noah had never seen him do that.
“How much did you know?” Noah asked.
Leonard looked at his coffee.
“About Derek?”
“Yes.”
“That he could be abrasive.”
“Don’t.”
Leonard raised his eyes.
“Don’t what?”
“Use a nice word because I’m young.”
“That isn’t what I’m doing.”
“Then how much?”
Leonard set the cup down.
“There were complaints.”
“I know.”
“I spoke to him.”
“When?”
“Several times.”
“Did Mike?”
“Yes.”
“Did anything change?”
“For a while.”
Noah looked at him.
Leonard rubbed the edge of his thumb along the paper cup.
“He was number one in sales six years out of seven.”
“And?”
“And this is a business.”
Noah laughed once.
Not because it was funny.
Leonard’s face hardened.
“You think that answer makes me a coward.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You’re thinking it.”
Noah looked toward the dark showroom.
“Yes.”
Leonard nodded.
“Good. At least you’re honest.”
He stood and walked toward the McLaren.
Noah followed.
Leonard stopped beside it.
“That car has been here fifty-three days. You know what that means?”
“Flooring cost.”
“Exactly. Every day it sits, it costs us. The building costs us. Insurance costs us. Twenty-three employees cost us. Health coverage costs us. Advertising. Utilities. Interest. People look at a place like this and see toys for rich men. I see a machine that needs to run every morning.”
“That doesn’t explain Derek.”
“It explains why I tolerated things I shouldn’t have.”
Noah waited.
Leonard looked toward the street.
“When my wife got sick, I stopped being here as much.”
Noah had known Leonard’s wife died three years earlier.
He said nothing.
“Mike ran sales. Derek sold. Numbers stayed up. Complaints came in. I dealt with what was directly in front of me.”
“Your wife was dying.”
“Yes.”
“That matters.”
“It doesn’t erase anything.”
Noah studied him.
Leonard looked tired.
Not defeated.
Just older than he had that morning.
Noah took a sip of coffee.
It was terrible.
“Why didn’t you tell me during diligence?”
“Because nothing was pending legally.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Leonard closed his eyes.
For the first time since Noah had known him, he looked ashamed.
“I didn’t want it to affect the sale.”
There it was.
Noah’s hand tightened around the cup.
“Okay.”
“Don’t say okay like that.”
“How should I say it?”
“I don’t know.”
“That makes two of us.”
Noah walked away before he said something worse.
At eight twenty-three, he sat alone in the rental car and called Priya.
She answered with, “You’re an idiot.”
“Hi.”
“I leave my phone in a meeting for forty-five minutes and come out to find you bought a dealership and became a meme.”
“I bought the dealership before the meme.”
“Thank God. That would’ve been irresponsible.”
Noah leaned his head against the seat.
“You saw it?”
“My mother saw it. My mother thinks you own a Lamborghini now.”
“I don’t.”
“You technically own several.”
“They’re inventory.”
“That is exactly the kind of sentence a person says before becoming unbearable.”
He laughed.
The tension in his chest loosened slightly.
Priya waited.
“What’s wrong?”
“He has complaints.”
“The salesman?”
“Yeah.”
“Then fire him.”
“Leonard knew.”
Silence.
“Oh.”
“Not everything. Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Did he hide it?”
“Yes.”
“From diligence?”
“Yes.”
“Materially?”
“No lawsuit. No active claim. Mostly customer complaints.”
“Still.”
“Yeah.”
Priya sighed.
“What do you want me to tell you?”
“That I’m doing this right.”
“You aren’t.”
Noah closed his eyes.
May you like
“Great.”
“You went undercover at your own company before introducing yourself.”
