“I got you some, Ace,” said the guy, and Ace grinned at him.
“Awesome. Make sure Ernie gets his—he’s going on nap break in a few.” Then he turned back to Cort. “Now we got good news and bad news. Bad news first.”
Cort grimaced. “I guess the bad news is I’m not getting my car back right away.”
Ace tilted his head. “That is the bad news. The real bad news is it needs its engine replaced, and it’ll be a while because them things need to be ordered and shipped. So, well, I hope you weren’t attached to that vehicle, because you’re not going to be driving it for a while, if ever.”
Unconsciously, Orly reached for Cort’s hand, relieved when he returned the grasp and the squeeze. “And thegoodnews?” he croaked. “I’m not a rich man!” Cort dressed the part, but that was for work. Orly knew that he’d just bought the little house and splurged on Vegas, and his finances had to be stretched thin. The thought of a new car….
“The good news,” Ace said, “is we went and got you a replacement. Now don’t worry none about rental contracts and such. All we gotta do is sign over pink slips, and you file yours and say you gave us a dollar. It’s no worries. You can keep the newer one, and we’ll keep the one that died on you, and you can go on your merry way.”
Cort gaped like a fish for a moment, and Ace indicated a Ford ExplorerbehindCort’s, abrand-newFord Explorer, one that still had dealer plates on it.
“But…,” Cort stammered. “But… but….”
“Uhm…,” Orly tried to add. “Uhm… how’d that… uhm… what in the—”
“See,” Ace said firmly, toying with a rather, erm,largeserrated folding knife with bandaged knuckles, “them folks atQuick Johns, they felt… poorly, I guess. About looking at your oil pan and not seeing them metal shavings.”
“There were metal shavings in my oil pan?” Cort squeaked, and Orly stared. That was… that was almost impossible.
“How’d they get there?” Orly asked.
“Can’t rightly say.” That knife—he was good with it. It flipped up end over end, and he caught it by the very tip of the blade. “But they didn’t feel right, you having to pay for a whole new engine, so Quick John, he procured himself a vehicle from his brother’s car lot, and he signed over the pink slip to us. Now all we got to do is sign it over to you and everything’s fair and square.”
Orly’s eyeballs were going to dry out—and judging by his expression, so were Cort’s.
“You… you’re just going to sign this new car over to us?” Cort asked.
“Mm-hmm.”
“And all you want is… is my old car that just blew up?”
“Mm-hmm. That’s about right. Isn’t it, boys?”
“It is deal of century,” said the giant Russian, and he smiled, and Orly almost dropped his water.
“Ace is pretty persuasive,” the little guy with the hot temper said. “He’s kind of a genius at getting assholes… erm, crooks… erm, mistaken people…. That right, Ace? Mistaken people?”
“Sure,” Ace said. “Mistaken people.”
“He’s a genius at getting mistakes to admit they’re mistakes.” It sounded like “mistake” was a replacement word for something way worse.
“Cort,” Orly whispered.
“Yeah?”
“Sign the pink slip and let’s get out of here.”
“Sure,” Cort said. Orly watched him pull his best lawyer’s smile from the bottom of his toes.
“That sounds great,” he said. “I can’t thank you enough for negotiating this for us. I… I….” He faltered. “I really couldn’t have afforded a new car,” he said, and Orly heard the strain of the new house weighing on his soul—the home he’d offered to Orly even before the magical twenty-four hours of amazing sex.
“Not many people can,” Ace said grimly. He pocketed the terrifying knife and held out his hand to shake on it, and Cort did just that. “Now come over here—Ernie’s got all our paperwork ready. It’ll just take a few signatures from you and you two can be on your way.” He glanced over at their chauffeur. “You all can eat without me,” he said. “Let’s get these boys going.”
The “chauffeur” grabbed the bag of takeout, and Cort and Orly toddled on unsteady legs to sign their lives away.
“WHAT DOyou think he meant?” Orly asked tentatively as the new SUV rumbled placidly and perfectly through the desert.
