Fear the Worst: A Thriller

“Let me tell you something, Andy,” I said. “You’re still relatively new, so I’ll cut you some slack today, but you ever pull a stunt like that again I’ll slam a hood down on your fucking hand.”

 

 

“Sure, you bet,” Andy said. “Won’t ever happen again. You gonna tell Laura on me?”

 

I shook my head. “Laura’s sales manager. She doesn’t give a shit who gets the commissions as long as the cars get sold. She’ll just let us sort it out, and that’s what I’m doing now. Understand?”

 

“You bet.”

 

I tossed my full coffee into an old oil drum and went back inside. There was a guy hanging around my desk. The girl at reception caught my eye as I walked into the showroom and said, “That gentleman asked for you.”

 

He was sandy-haired, trim, mid-thirties, smart clothes. I put out my hand as I approached. “Tim Blake,” I said. “You were looking for me?”

 

He nodded and returned the handshake. “Eric Downes,” he said. “I got your name from a guy I work with who bought a car from you a few years ago.”

 

“Who was that?” I asked.

 

“Dan?” he said. “I don’t even know his last name.” He laughed self-consciously. “You’d think I’d know a coworker’s last name.”

 

“No problem,” I said. I could recall two or three Dans off the top of my head, but it didn’t really matter which one. “What can I help you with?” I asked.

 

“I’ve been seriously thinking about a Civic coupe,” Eric Downes said.

 

“The regular coupe, or the Si?”

 

“Oh, the Si,” he said.

 

“Nice vehicle,” I said. “Six-speed, alloys, 197 horsepower. It really goes, and at the same time, you’re going to get respectable gas mileage with it.”

 

“Everyone’s thinking about that these days,” Eric said. “I’ve been reading up on them online, I’ve looked at other people’s, but this is the first I’ve been into a showroom to look at one. Thing is, I’ve also been looking at a Mini, and a GTI. The Volkswagen. But I wanted to check the Si first. You have any in stock?”

 

“I don’t have one on the floor here,” I said, “but I have one on the lot, a demo.”

 

“What I’d really like to do,” he said, “is take one for a test drive, but like, do I have to put down a deposit first to do something like that?”

 

“No, of course not,” I said. “I can arrange for you to take one out if you’d like. I just need a copy of your driver’s license, and it’d be my pleasure to ride along with you to show you the car’s features.”

 

Not that Eric would be able to pick up a load of manure with an Si, but I wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

 

Eric glanced at his watch like he had someplace to get to, then shrugged and said, “What the hell, let’s do it.”

 

While I was arranging to have one of the summer hires bring the red demo we had up to the door, I watched Andy skulk in and slink into his chair. He didn’t look over at me, or my customer. He was an okay kid. He just still had a lot to learn. Unless, of course, his ambition was to be a slimy car salesman. If that was the case, he was ahead of the game.

 

Shannon, at reception, made a copy of Eric Downes’s license, gave the original back to me, and I handed it over to him while he inspected other new cars on the lot. A couple of minutes later, the red Civic Si rolled up.

 

“What are you driving now?” I asked Eric.

 

“I’ve got a Mazda,” he said. “I’ve had good luck with it, but I feel like a change.”

 

“You’d be looking to trade it in?” I asked.

 

“I’m actually at the end of a lease,” he said.

 

“They call this Rallye Red,” I said, pointing out some of the Honda’s exterior features for Eric. The rear spoiler, the Si badging. I opened the door for him to get behind the wheel, then joined him on the other side.

 

“Nice,” he said, running his hands over the leather-wrapped steering wheel. I directed his attention to the navigation and audio systems, the side bolsters on the racing-style bucket seats.

 

“Start ’er up,” I said.

 

Eric turned the engine over, gave the accelerator a couple of light taps to hear the revs, pushed in the clutch and worked the gearshift around, getting an idea where all the gears were.

 

“Can I smoke in here?” Eric asked, about to reach into his jacket.

 

“Once you own it,” I said, smiling. “But for now, no, if you don’t mind.”

 

“No problem,” he said.

 

“Let’s go out that way,” I said, pointing right. “Then we’ll head up to the turnpike, get an idea how it performs on the highway.” I got the navigation screen set up so we could keep track of our movements. “You ever had a car with one of these built into the dash?” I asked.

 

“Yup,” said Eric. He didn’t seem particularly impressed.

 

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