She looks puzzled, but ponders this a minute before politely asking, "Can you excuse us for a moment, please?"
After he leaves the tiny sales office, her eyes squint. This doesn't make sense to her. "Something must be wrong with it." Of course she's skeptical. "That car should be at least fifteen thousand based on what I've seen cars listed for on the internet."
I shrug and point to the sales banners hanging throughout the showroom around us. "They're having a sale. I guess this is just your lucky day. Besides, he said it's a certified used car and comes with a two-year warranty. They've already checked it out. I'd say you're golden, if you want it."
She takes a deep breath and looks from me to Pax, and back to me. She wants it. Bad. She's chewing on her bottom lip thinking it through. "I don't really know how to do this. I only have eight and that needs to include fees and taxes. I'm not sure how to start negotiations."
I shrug again. "Don't know what to tell you. I bought my truck off a dude at the beach for two g's cash and some surfing lessons when I was sixteen. Not your standard car transaction. But I'd suspect that if you just cut to the chase and tell Donovan what you want and stick to it, he'll either tell you yea or nay. Either you go home with the car or you don't."
She nods. She's not blinking. She's thinking. Hard. "I really want it."
I smile because it's so cute the way she said it. Cute, but super confident. That rarely happens. "I know you do."
She nods her head and puts on her game face again. "Let's do this." She waves her hand and motions for Donovan through the glass window.
She makes her offer like a boss.
He leaves to consult his manager, but I suspect he just ran to the can. He returns with a paper in hand with some figures scribbled on it. It looks familiar; I went through this same drill yesterday with him.
They accepted her offer.
She's over the fucking moon happy.
We all move to the finance office, again, just like I did yesterday. And she signs her paperwork.
When we're done, they hand her the keys and she clutches them like they're sacred and stares at them the entire walk out to the parking lot. When we reach the back of the car she looks up at me and smiles. I would give anything to freeze time and take in this expression for hours. It's so many good things all rolled up into one: it's confidence, satisfaction, pride, and complete, unbridled joy. And it's not just about the material possession; it's about the process and the accomplishment. She opens her mouth to say something, but then she hugs me instead. She's squeezing the shit out of me and hangs on for probably ten seconds. It's thank you. A million and one thank yous.
She has no idea this car really did cost fifteen thousand dollars. Or that I paid for half of it yesterday.
And she never will.
I made a lot of money off the first album and I still have most of it. I don't spend a lot. I don't need a lot. I'm stoked to share it with people I care about.
She's so proud and happy with herself right now. She rocked the hell out of the negotiations, even if they were rigged. She didn't seem self-conscious at all when she was focused on her task. I think her appearance is always on her mind. Sometimes at the forefront. Sometimes in the back. This morning, it was absent. She wasn't hiding. And it was awesome.
Pax calls out, "Shotgun!"
I reach into my pocket, pull out a key, and toss it to Pax.
He catches it and looks questioningly at it.
"I call shotgun, but you're driving, dude," I counter.
Scout shakes her head. "You've never ridden with him, Gustov. He is not driving my car."
I smile and taunt her. "You're such a pussy when it comes to driving. Seriously, he can't be that bad?"
She's not offended, but she's gone from shaking her head to nodding. "He's that bad."
Pax is pointing to himself. "Standing right here. And I can hear you." It's a reminder, that while she's not offended, he is.
"Well, dude, try not to kill me then. Or wreck your new-to-you car."
His eyes bulge like a cartoon character. "What?" It's loud, which is so unlike him. The people across the lot are gawking at us now.
I smile and point to the car parked next to Impatient's. It's fifteen years old and has a shit ton of miles on it, but it's a clean beater and runs great. It's also Pax's now. I bought it yesterday. "It's yours. We'll call it an early birthday present." His birthday is tomorrow.
He's stunned.
Impatient is stunned.
This is priceless.
I love doing nice things for people. Not that it has to be a grand gesture, because let's face it, a car is a little over-the-top. Just something nice. It's grounding. It reminds me that we're all in this game called life together. It's also circular ... you give it ... you get it.
I gave it.
And looking at them, standing here so gracious, and so happy, I'm getting it back tenfold.
And now it's Pax's turn to hug me.
And then it's Impatient's turn to hug us both.
We're standing here, in a group hug, practically singing fucking "Kumbayah."
The people across the lot are still ogling.
I buckle in next to Pax and ride home with him.
Scout was totally right. Pax could use some lessons in signaling, merging, stopping, and even just keeping the car in his own lane. I'm not a religious man, but I may have recited the Lord's prayer two or twenty times during the ride.