“They don’t like colored golf carts. They like them to be white or black. That’s it.”
I frowned. “That sounds boring.”
“Oh, it is.” Evangeline’s eyes twinkled. “Your friend said you wanted something bright, though. I have a workaround for the rule.”
She had my full attention. “How do you have a workaround for one of their rules?”
“Because up until three months ago, when I caught my husband cheating on me with the tart from the cabana bar, I lived there. I wanted a bright cart, but the wording was very specific … until I approached the board about a new cart that could help them get a green energy credit if they helped promote it.”
I knew exactly where this was going. “So you got them to work in a new cart with no color restrictions.”
“I did.” Evangeline bobbed her head. “At the time, they were only offering black carts and white carts. I happened to know that they would be offering a luxury line of colors down the line. But there was no mention of that in the brochure I provided them with.”
I couldn’t stop myself from asking the next question. “How did you know that they would go for the green carts?”
“Because there’s little that rich people love more than a tax shelter.”
“Okay, but not everybody at the Landings is filthy rich. I’m not filthy rich.”
“Not everybody is filthy rich,” she agreed. “You can’t even get through the door unless you’re above a certain threshold, though.”
That made me feel mildly guilty, but I kept that to myself. “What color can I get this green cart in?”
“There’re only three colors other than the standard black and white. Blue, red … and Barbie pink.”
I broke into a wide smile. “Are you serious?”
“Yup.”
“How much is it?”
“More than this one.” She tapped the side of the turquoise cart.
I swallowed hard. “How much more?”
“Not enough to stop you from wanting to screw them. I heard you guys when I was passing by. I’m looking forward to seeing what you do to tick off management.”
“I thought you said you didn’t live there any longer?”
“Only because my divorce hasn’t been settled. As soon as that happens, I’m going right back in.”
“And why is that?”
“Because much like you, I enjoy messing with the Marys, the Karens, and the Mary Karens. They’re going to hate you, for the record. That means I’m going to like you.”
I already liked her. Because of that, I glanced at the turquoise golf cart and made up my mind on the spot. “I’ll take the pink one.”
“It’s a smart move,” she said. “If you ever want to sell it, the resell is high on these things, compared to the standard ones, which are just like cars and depreciate in value the second you remove them from the showroom.”
“Fine.” I waved off the statement. “I want to win badly enough that I’m already sold on the idea.”
She broke into a wide grin that made her face warm and inviting. “Yup. I’m definitely going to like you.”
The feeling was mutual. “Just one thing.” I tapped my bottom lip. “Are there rules on tires? Like … can I get spinning wheels or something with sequins?”
She chuckled. “I’ll have to look it up.”
I rummaged for my credit card. “Do your worst.”
