The Circle of Friends, Book V...Heather

II-2

“ …for the CE price?” finished Mark, raising his voice over hers.

That caught Heather by surprise. Her mouth snapped shut and she stared at Mark. An old friend or not, he was still a salesman at heart, and a ruthless one at that. She knew his true motivation. A thousand off the higher-end model meant he would catch her on the trade-in or the interest. She would lose either way.

“Not much of a deal if you screw me elsewhere, though,” she said, her voice low.

Mark’s eyes narrowed. Heather continued to stare at him in defiance, determined to hold her ground. She could’ve chosen her words better, but it was too late now. The tension in the room was unmistakable and Dietrich shifted on his feet. Heather wondered if she had just wasted over two hours of her day.

Breaking eye contact first, Mark glanced up at Dietrich. “Is Patrick through with her car yet?” he demanded in an obvious effort to funnel his anger elsewhere.

“I’ll see what’s keeping him,” Dietrich offered, thankful for an opportunity to leave the room.

Without looking in her direction, Mark reached around and extracted a long form from a small file cabinet behind his desk. Glancing at the first sheet of paper, his pen moved over the form, scribbling numbers at a rapid pace. Heather watched, feeling concerned and quite confused by his actions. Her words had either infuriated him if he was trying to help, or annoyed him if he just wanted to close the deal. He did not look up as he wrote and Heather felt at a loss. She still did not know what to make of Matt’s older brother.

Dietrich returned, a small slip of paper in his hand. Mark glanced up and continued writing.

“And?” he prompted, his voice gruff.

Without looking at Heather, Dietrich’s eyes dropped to the figure on the paper. “Nine hundred,” he said.

Mark nodded, his pen flying across the form. Reaching for his calculator, he punched in a series of numbers, writing down figures in between totals. With a flourish, he completed his task and dropped his pen. Grasping the top of the form, he spun it around and slid the sheet across the desk toward Heather. Leaning back in his chair, Mark placed his hands behind his head and fixed her with a firm stare.

“That’s the best I can screw you,” he said.

Heather leaned forward. The purchase order was for an automatic Corolla XLE, with many extras included. This brought the price of the car to $19,000, far more than she wanted to pay, even for a new vehicle. However, Mark had taken off $2000 and given Heather $1400 on her old Nissan. The bottom line figure now sat at less than the base-model CE. His calculations brought the cost to what she had been prepared to pay when she walked into his office.

Leaning away, Heather looked up, still felt of Mark’s deal. It could not be this easy.

“What about the interest rate?” she demanded, finding her voice at last.

“What do you want to pay a month and for how long?”

Heather had already calculated the most she could pay without stretching it out for years. “Four years, no more than $375,” she said.

“Done,” Mark said without hesitation.

Still not believing her good fortune, Heather pressed her lips together and grasped the armrests. She could not detect a deception, though.

“You have a car with those same features and in the color I want on the lot right this minute?” challenged Heather.

“What color do you want?”

“Blue,” she responded, naming the first color that came to mind. Outside of bright yellow or pink, the color really did not matter. Heather just wanted to see if Mark could fulfill his end of the bargain.

“We have it,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers.

Exasperated, Heather slumped in her chair. She could find no fault with his offer. Glancing up at Dietrich, she realized he had not moved from his position and continued to maintain a neutral expression. c*****g her head at Mark, who still sat with his hands behind his head, Heather eyed him with suspicion. Matt’s brother appeared cocky and sure of himself. She hated to surrender so fast and give him the satisfaction of an easy conquest, but Heather couldn’t pass up the offer. Mark had conned her with an honest deal.

“Fine,” she said in exasperation, throwing up her hands. “Then I guess I’ll take it.”

Mark’s eyes shifted to his salesman. He nodded at Dietrich, who smiled and reached for the form.

“Blue XLE in the third row,” Mark told him. “Get someone on it while you’re completing the paperwork.”

“You bet,” Dietrich said. He turned toward Heather.

Rising to her feet, Heather straightened her shoulders and stared at Mark. “So, what’s the catch?”

“The catch?” he said, leaning forward in his chair. Mark reached around and produced his wallet.

“The catch is you’re going to get us lunch after you finish with the paperwork.”

“I am?” she demanded.

Mark tossed a twenty-dollar bill across the desk. “Yes, you are. Don’t care what it is, either. And here…”

Reaching inside a bag beside his desk, Mark extracted a set of keys from the side pocket. He tossed them at Heather, who caught them in her right hand.

“Take my car. Dietrich will show you which one.”

Heather reached for the twenty. She stared hard at Mark, stunned by the audacity of his attitude and request. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and he gave her a wink. Mark returned to his computer screen, dismissing them. Feeling used, despite the bargain on her new car, Heather strode out of Mark’s office.

The paperwork and credit check took longer than expected, but she at last signed the last form that secured her ownership of the Corolla, not to mention the debt that came along with it. Dietrich located an empty cardboard box and she cleaned out the interior of her old car. After riding around town in new vehicles all morning, her Nissan appeared even older and more disgusting than ever. Heather delighted in slamming the door one last time.

“Won’t miss you a bit,” she growled, giving the bumper a kick in passing.

Dietrich took the box from her hands as she entered the showroom. “I’ll keep it in my office while you’re getting Mark’s lunch,” he told her.

“Should just get him something out of the vending machine,” Heather muttered.

Escorting her outside, Dietrich led Heather around the side of the building. Still clutching Mark’s keys, Heather followed. She couldn’t believe she was about to buy him lunch. She had better things to do with her day. However, it would be another thirty minutes before her Corolla was ready, and lunch would occupy the time. At least Mark was buying, Heather conceded.

“Here you go,” Dietrich said, stepping aside.

Heather came to an abrupt halt. A silver convertible sat in front of them, its top down and interior beckoning. She had been drawn to the Spyder in the showroom, but had not even considered driving the little sports car. Heather enjoyed residing at the center of attention but never relied on material possessions to cause others to take heed. A convertible was for showing off and conspicuous by nature. Somehow, it did not surprise her that Mark would drive something so obvious and flashy.

“This is what he’s taking home tonight?” she said, her eyes fixed on the convertible.

“Oh, every night,” corrected Dietrich. “This is Mark’s own personal vehicle.”

“Mark’s letting me drive his convertible?”

Dietrich flashed her a grin. “Enjoy! He’d never let any of us drive it, that’s for sure.”

Heather reached for the handle and opened the door. She half expected trash to dump onto the pavement. Matt’s cars had never been clean on the inside, looking more like a wastebasket than a nice vehicle. However, the interior of Mark’s vehicle appeared immaculate. Almost afraid to touch the clean leather seats, Heather slid behind the wheel. She examined the dash, her eyes scanning the instrument panel, and felt confident she could locate the proper controls. Closing the door, Heather fired up the engine, and the Spyder roared to life.

She took a deep breath, still amazed Mark would trust her with his expensive sports car. His gesture was not without motive, however, and she vowed to discover his agenda when she returned. Releasing the brake, Heather pressed down on the accelerator and navigated the convertible through the parking lot. Pausing for traffic, she gripped the steering wheel tight as her adrenaline began to rise. Driving the Spyder was going to be fun, she thought.

Noting the array of fast food joints near the dealership, Heather guessed Mark didn’t often consume a nutritious lunch. Electing to enjoy her ride for a while, she headed north. She came to a crossroads and remembered a Carrabba’s right around the corner. Italian sounded good to Heather and she hoped the restaurant would not be busy with diners. At least she could take advantage of the “to-go” parking and keep an eye on Mark’s car.

Twenty minutes later, Heather and the food were en route to the dealership. Even with the top down, she could smell the aroma of pasta and bread emanating from the bag. The toast she’d consumed for breakfast seemed so long ago now and she was hungry. Despite her indignation, Heather was grateful for a free meal.

She returned Mark’s car to its original location and took the bag of food inside. As she approached his office, Heather gathered from the multiple voices its occupancy to be full at the moment and she waited in the hallway. One by one, salesmen exited and the room began to empty. When he noticed her waiting outside, Mark dismissed the last two salesmen and gestured for her to enter.

“About time! I’m starving,” he exclaimed. “Thought you’d taken my money and run.”

“Thought about taking your car,” Heather said, setting the bag on his desk.

“Don’t take my car, now. I refuse to be seen in a Corolla.”

A man poked his head in the door and asked a question. Mark said, his voice brimming with impatience. The salesman beat a hasty retreat as Mark moved toward the door. Disgusted, he kicked the door with enough force to close it and returned to his desk.

“Hopefully they’ll give me ten minutes of peace,” he grumbled. “This will be the closest thing I’ll get to a break all day.”

“I thought you loved your job,” Heather quipped, retrieving Mark’s container of food from the bag.

“I do when salesmen aren’t whining at me all day.”

Heather extracted her food and dropped the bag on the floor. Locating plastic silverware among the pile of napkins she’d dumped on his desk, Heather offered Mark a fork. With a sigh, he dropped into his chair and leaned forward. Flipping open the Styrofoam container, he let out a short exclamation of joy.

“Damn, need to send you out for food from now on,” Mark proclaimed, a genuine smile playing across his lips. “This is a real meal.”

“I spent the whole twenty bucks,” said Heather, poking a straw into her drink.

Mark had not exaggerated when he stated he was hungry. Heather watched him shovel several forkfuls of pasta into his mouth, amazed by the speed at which his food began to vanish. Famished, she discarded her table manners as well, reverting back to her teenage years when she had to fight Matt and his friends for every slice of pizza. Heather cared little what Mark thought of her eating habits, feeling sure he had seen her inhale food at some point in the past.

Mark reduced the frantic consumption of his meal and eyed Heather. He reached for his drink to wash down his last bite and leaned away from his desk.