Page 130 of Nuts

“I dabble.”

“You own several, right?”

“More than several.”

I gave a slow nod. “What’s the value of a 1988 308 Ferrari?”

He chuckled. “I have no idea.”

“You like cars, you’re a collector, and you have no idea what a 1988 308 is worth? How the fuck can that be?”

“There are far too many cars in this world to be privy to the price points of all of them.”

“Exactly. And there are more baseball cards on this earth than cars. That’s a 1952 Mickey Mantle #311. It’s a PSA 9. Look at the centering. It’s 47-53 front, and 50-50 rear. Measure the motherfucker. At an auction, it’d go for $550,000-$575,000. If I auction it, I’ll have to pay taxes. Taxes will get me to $400,000. Give me $400,000 for the son-of-a-bitch, or kindly hand it back to me.”

“Give me a moment,” he said.

He went into the back room for a few minutes, and then returned. “I’ll give $395,000.”

“That five bucks is going to kill you, huh?”

He shrugged. “It’s a matter of principle. I need to feel that I’m getting a bargain.”

“The $550,000 price you just saw on the internet didn’t make you feel that way?”

He grinned. “Do we have a deal?”

“You know what? Normally I’d walk over $5.00. Just like you, as a matter of principle. Today, I’ll let you get over on me for $5.00, but only if you’re paying in cash.”

He let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t keep cash like that in the store.”

“I didn’t figure you did. Give me the card, gather up the funds, and then we’ll meet up.”

“I’m not going to bring cash like that here. I’d need you to meet me at the bank, or at the police station.”

“Trust issues, huh? Yeah, I’ve got ‘em, too. Good luck getting me to go to a police station. I’ll meet you at the bank. How much time do you need?”

He looked at his watch. “Will noon work? We can meet here. My bank is around the corner.”

“Noon will work fine.”

“What shall we do with the Mantle #311?” he asked.

“We aren’t going to do a damned thing with it. I’m going to take it with me.”

His face distorted. “On the motorcycle?”

I held out my hand. “Same way it got here.”

“You feel safe with a half-a-million-dollar card on that?”

“Safer than in a cage.”

With obvious reluctance, he handed me the card. “I’ll see you at noon?”

“The two of us,” I said. “My buddy and me.”

“Buddy?”