Frances was not about to share that with her. “Can’t say.We’re thinking things through. Tell me something—What happened with Rocco?”
Marcy was wearing a pair of ridiculously large sunglasses, so Frances couldn’t see her expression, but she imagined her blinking, wide green eyes. At least the question shut her up for a moment.
“Ladies!” The salesman in a brown sport coat and wire-rimmed glasses had reached them. “Looking for a car today?”
“Obviously,” Frances said. “What’s the cheapest thing you’ve got?”
“Cheap! We don’t like that word. You look like a Buick kind of gal. Let me show you a couple of options.”
They followed him across the lot to a Buick with bright yellow numbers 6999 splashed across the windshield. “Let me tell you what you’re looking at here,” the man said, and began to point out the features of the car.
“I met him in college,” Marcy muttered.
For a moment, Frances thought she meant the salesman. Then she realized that Marcy was talking about Rocco. “He was interested in me. You know, like to date.”
“Only 150,000 miles on her,” the man said.
“But I wasn’t interested. Still, I let him flirt with me. I always like flirting.”
Didn’t they all.
“What kind of budget are we looking at, ladies?” the man asked.
“I don’t like it,” Frances said. “What else have you got under ten?”
“Glad you asked,” the man said. “If you will follow me.” He took off at a clip across the lot again.
Frances looped her arm through Marcy’s. “Flirting is nice,” she said. “Then what happened?”
“I didn’t see him for a while, but then, he popped up on textone day, and what happened was that I was incredibly stupid and he was a fucking swindler.”
“Sounds juicy.”
“Everyone looks good in a Ford,” the salesman said, pointing to a red Ford sedan. “All-wheel drive. Great gas mileage. Heated seats.”
“What sort of engine does it have?” Frances asked.
“Glad you asked,” the salesman said, because apparently, he was very glad they asked anything. He reached under the hood to open it. It didn’t budge. He went to the driver’s door to open it and presumably pop the hood, but the door didn’t open, either. “Let me try the other side,” he said, and jogged around the car to the passenger side.
“It was a disaster,” Marcy said, answering her question. “Not at first. At first, I was making money. But then I lost everything. My friends, too. He ripped us all off.”
“Pardon?” The salesman was back.
“It is a four- or six-liter engine?” Frances asked.
“Four,” he said, and opened the passenger door.
“And what about trunk space?”
“That’s the best thing about a Ford. Great trunk space.” He started for the back of the car.
Frances turned and blocked Marcy’s path. “Wouldn’t you like to see him pay for it?”
“Yes, but … like in a court of law.”
“Because they are so efficient and fair,” Frances mused.
“Well …” Marcy’s eyes darted past Frances.
