Page 129 of Nuts

“I know there’s always a difference between a buying price and a selling price, but it sounds like you’re a little confused on a real market value. Do I need to get someone a little more knowledgeable?” I asked.

“I’m considered an expert in this region.”

“I like the way you paused when you gave me the price. Like you were fishing.”

He glanced over his shoulder and lifted the magnifying glass. “Fishing?”

“Tossing out a hopeful number. Lobbing a try in my direction. It’s like fishing. See the similarity?”

“I don’t.”

“It doesn’t surprise me. The number needs to have a four in front of it, and if it doesn’t, you and I are done talking.”

“$285,720,” he said flatly.

“I guess we’re done.”

He lowered the device to his eye, took one last look, and then glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll entertain a counter offer.”

“Not if I’m not giving one, you won’t. I was a child years ago. I haven’t got any desire to play childish games.”

“$300,000 is not child’s play.”

“You didn’t say $300,000. You said $285,720. Maybe I should just stick around here and let you go up in $14,280 increments until you get to $400,000.” I cleared my throat. “Notice how I did that math in my head? I’m good with numbers. You’re not.”

“We’re too far apart on this,” he said.

“Fine. I’ll be on my way.”

He swiveled his chair to face me. After setting his spectacles aside, he sighed. “$350,000.”

“We’re making progress.”

He grinned. “I’ll have the bank print a check.”

“And what? Pay me the other $50,000 in cash?”

He let out a sigh. “I can’t go $400,000.”

“I can’t go $350,000.”

“We’re close,” he said. “Awfully close.”

“You’re $50,000 off. That’s a lot of money. Go buy a house and short ‘em fifty k. See how close they think you are.”

“How did you arrive at your number?” he asked. “I’d like to know.”

“I arrived at it by being knowledgeable in current market values. These things change daily. If you aren’t current on that specific card, you could be off a mile. You didn’t even look on the computer, or in a book.”

“I don’t need to.”

He was frustrating the fuck out of me. I looked off to the side, and saw what I assumed was his car on the other side of the storefront window.

“Is that your Austin-Healey?” I asked.

“It is.”

“A man drives something like that, it’s apparent he likes cars. Are you a collector?”