ERIK. “Two colors? Are you fucking serious, just two?”

The salesman shrugged. “That’s all we’ve got right now. Black and silver.”

“Christ, Darwin. Every car I’ve purchased in the last five years has been black. I’m sick and damned tired of black cars.”

“The silver is too conservative,” he assured me. “The black one fits you.”

I gazed toward the showroom floor and nodded in agreement. “I’ll take the black one, but I’ll give you one-twenty, that’s it. Don’t counter-offer. No bickering. One-twenty. A cent more, and I’ll go get a Benz.”

“Have a seat. I’ll start the paperwork.”

I sat down across from him and let out a light sigh. “Fine.”

“So, is that new?” He pointed to my right arm.

I lifted my arm and admired the colorful tattoo. “It’s not new, but I got it done since I was in the last time.”

“So, how bad does it actually--”

A gorgeous twenty-something year old woman walking past his office door caused me to shift my attention away from the conversation. Her gait expressed confidence. “Holy shit, Darwin, who is that?”

“That’s the owner’s daughter, Kelli. She’s working here for the summer as a receptionist. Hell, she’s twenty-two years old, Erik,” he said. “Definitely too damned young for you.”

My eyes shifted from her to him. “There’s new rules about age,” I said. “Half your age plus seven years. So, half of thirty-six, plus seven. Twenty-five. Twenty-five years old is socially acceptable for someone my age.”

She may have been twenty-two, but her demeanor expressed maturity. She was tall, appeared athletic, and had straight black hair. Her skin was milky white and porcelain-like. Dressed in black slacks, a red top, and conservative two inch heels, she walked as if she was certain of who she was and where she was headed in life. With her chin held high, she took each step with authority.

Her walk had purpose.

I alternated glances between the girl and the salesman. “Does BMW offer a convertible hard top in any of their models?”

“The M3. It’s a retractable hard top, why?”

“Do you have one in black?”

“We’ve got a black one out back. Why?”

“I want it.”

“In addition to the seven series?”

“No, Darwin, I am not going to spend two hundred grand on cars today.” I responded. “How much is it?”

“It’s considerably less than the seven series. Let me look.” He began to shuffle his mouse across the desk and stare intently at his computer monitor. “Seventy-three grand. Fully loaded with the competition package.”

I locked eyes with him. “I will give you sixty-five, Darwin. Same as before, no negotiating, no bullshit, and no fucking counter offer.”

“Will you pay with a check at least?”

I had bought four cars from the dealership since the death of my mother five years prior. Two million dollars, a two-bedroom house, and a ten-year-old Chevrolet Impala; that was my inheritance.

“No, I’ll be paying in cash,” I said in an irritated tone.

“Erik, you know it’s about impossible for us to take that kind of cash. We have to report it--”

“You’ll take the cash, and you’ll figure out a way to make it work. Cash or no deal.”

I got a tremendous amount of satisfaction out of forcing people to do what it was that I wanted. It really didn’t matter if it was convincing the car salesman to take cash for a seventy-thousand-dollar car, or convincing a woman to go down on me in a movie theatre. If their natural response would be “no”, I wanted to make them say “yes”.

“Alright, Erik, we’ll figure out something.” He stood from his seat. “Do you want to see it?”

“Just go get it and bring it up here, I need to go eat lunch pretty quick.”

“It’s out back.” He motioned toward the five-acre car-filled lot. “You want to ride back there with me on the cart?”

I scanned the showroom floor for the owner’s daughter. “No, I sure as fuck don’t. Go get it and bring it up here.”

“Alright.” He turned away. “Give me about ten minutes.”

After he left, I stepped out of his office and walked toward the receptionist’s desk. Standing there, but now wearing glasses, the owner’s daughter was talking to a customer. As I approached her, the customer nodded and walked away.

“Can you tell me where the bathroom is? I need to wash my hands.”

She pointed toward the restroom. “Sure, you passed it as you walked from the other side of the sales floor. It’s half-way back to the east, first door on the left.”

I offered a slight smile. “So do you pay attention to all of the customers walking the sales floor, or were you just watching me for some reason?”

She grinned. “I was admiring your tattoos.”

I studied her as she spoke. Her eyes drifted to my forearm.

“They really stand out,” she said. “I mean, against your white shirt. I really like tattoos and the stories behind them. I don’t have any yet, but I want one, I just need to decide what and where.”

I tossed my head toward the bathroom. “First door on the left?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Erik. I would shake your hand, but.” I raised my hand. “they’re dirty.”

“I’m Kelli. With an ‘I’,” she responded. “Nice to meet you.”

“Kelli, walk with me toward the restroom.”

“Excuse me?” She cocked an eyebrow. Although she fought against it, a slight smile surfaced.

“I want to watch you walk. Come with me, and walk in front of me, please.”

“I’m supposed to stay here and answer the phone. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. The decision’s yours. I want to watch you walk, Kelli with an “I”. Walk for me.”

Her eyes scanned the area as if to see if there was anyone that may question her walking away from the receptionist desk. She stepped around me and began to walk toward the restroom.

I studied her as she took each meaningful step.

She stopped and pointed toward the door. “It’s right there, Erik.” she said. She barely pronounced the “K”. It was almost as if she ended my name with an “I”.

I stepped to her side and then paused. Her eyes widened as I reached toward her face and swept the air away from her ear. I leaned to the side of her face and spoke softly – but with an exaggerated exhale – so she could feel my breath on her ear.

“It’s Erik with a “K”, Kelli. Enunciate.”

I leaned away, met her gaze, and continued. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

An involuntary exhale escaped her lungs. “I can’t--”

“You can. Wait for me.”

I washed my hands and quickly returned. Standing nervously in the same spot, she looked beautiful.

I stepped past her. “Follow me to my motorcycle,” I said over my shoulder.

“I can’t. I have to stay--”

I continued walking, knowing eventually she would follow me. I didn’t turn around or look for her reflection in the glass of the office windows. As I reached the door, I stood to the side, opened it, and waited.

Incapable of hiding her excitement entirely, she quickly caught up to me and walked through the door. “So…uhhm…why am I following you?”

Silently, I walked the remaining steps to the motorcycle. I reached to put the key into the ignition and turned toward her. “It interests me that you’re interested in me.”

“I’m interested in you? You asked me to lead the way to the bathroom, and then you told me to follow you out to your motorcycle. I think you’re mixed up.”

I raised my leg over the motorcycle and relaxed into the seat. “I placed a business card on your desk. Before your head hits the pillow tonight, Kelli, I want you to text me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What makes you think that I am interested in texting you?”

“The fact that you are, Kelli,” I said. I flipped the ignition switch on and started the engine.

She stood to the side of the motorcycle, alternating glances between me and the machine nestled between my legs.

“So, what exactly is it?” she shouted over the sound of the exhaust.

“It’s a chopper.”

“Not that I would, but can someone ride on the back?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

The salesman shot into the parking stall beside us. “Here’s the car. Where are you going?”

“I’m going for a ride. Just deliver it to my house. Send the paperwork with the driver.”

“I’ll talk to you tonight, Kelli.” I pulled in the clutch lever and placed the gear shifter into gear.

Her mouth curled into a slight smirk, and she turned away. “Yes--”

Over the sound of the exhaust, the audible note of her voice was lost as she turned around. I couldn’t tell for sure, but it almost sounded as if she said, “Yes, Sir.” I released the clutch and hit the throttle, quickly speeding out of the lot onto the street in front of the dealership.

Maybe it was exactly what I wanted to hear her say.

Yes, Sir.