"So that's actually a...?"
"An old car," I said. "Yes, yes, I know, it's some kind of collector's piece, but it's old, and I want a new one."
"That's...yours?" an older salesman asked carefully.
"It is now. My granddaddy left it to me. It's very pretty, but"--I scrunched up my nose--"old. It doesn't handle well, and it has no airbags. My parents want me driving something with airbags. So I'm supposed to find a new car. Daddy was going to come with me, but he was called away to Munich last night, and I need something new by the weekend. I have plans."
One of the salesmen stepped forward. The alpha dog, I presumed.
"I can help you, Miss..."
"It's Ms.," I said. "And I'll choose myself, thank you." The mob surged forward, and I let out a throaty laugh. "Down, boys. I need someone experienced and capable. Someone who doesn't think they can treat me like a silly little girl just because I don't know much about cars."
Johnson stood on the fringes, watching with the kind of look that said he knew I'd go for someone younger, hungrier, slicker.
I pointed his way. "You, please."
"Me?"
"Unless you're otherwise occupied...?"
"No, not at all." He walked to me. "Keith Johnson."
He smiled. It was a perfectly calm, sincere smile, and in his face, I saw no trace of the man who'd fled ahead of the hounds, who'd demanded to know what he'd done, who'd screamed for mercy.
I shook his hand. "Monica LaSalle." Which was also, coincidentally, the name of the biggest bitch in my debutante class. "Now, I presume you have an office...?"
He led me toward it. "That's a very nice car, Miss--Ms. LaSalle."
"Call me Moni, please. Yes, I know, it's a terrific car, and being perfectly honest, I feel dreadful about trading it in. Granddaddy gave it to me because I loved it so. But I'd never actually driven it, which is an entirely different thing."
He closed the door behind me. "Classic cars are beautiful, but the technology is outdated, both in driving experience and safety."
"Exactly." I tapped his arm and flounced into the chair. "Did you know it doesn't have Bluetooth?"
"I...I imagine it doesn't."
"I understand that they didn't have Bluetooth back then, but I can't even get it retrofitted. So I have to use one of those things that goes over your ear." I shuddered. "Please don't tell my parents, but sometimes, I just use the phone directly while I'm driving, which I know is awfully unsafe."
"It is."
"I've already been pulled over once for it because I was swerving just a tiny bit, but the officer was so sweet. He let me go with a warning."
"I'm sure he did," Johnson mumbled.
I settled into the chair. "Worse, though, I can't connect my playlists. I have to put my phone on the seat and turn the volume all the way up, and the sound quality is just atrocious. Plus, it completely kills my battery, and of course, the car doesn't come with a charging adapter."
"It sounds like you need a new vehicle," he said.
"I do. Daddy wants me to get a Mercedes, but I was driving by your dealership, and I saw that adorable little convertible out front, and I just had to pull in."
"You mean the Audi R8?"
"If that's the black convertible, that's the one. Although, I'd like it in red. Can it come in red?"
"It certainly can. It's an extremely safe vehicle. It has--"
"Is it fast?" I said.