Page 43 of The Lie Maker

Earl glanced at his phone to check the time. It was a little after nine. Someone who’d responded to his ad was coming to look at the Porsche at nine thirty. Only the one nibble so far. If this guy didn’t bite, he’d try one of those services that were advertising all the time on TV, inviting you to go onto their site, provide all the details about your vehicle, and they’d make you an offer on the spot. Only trouble was, Earl was betting they’d lowball him. Thought the people behind these sites were probably appealing to car owners who were desperate for cash, would be willing to settle for the first offer they got.

People like Earl, in other words.

He feared that if no reputable lenders were going to help him out, he might have to turn to other sources. Unconventional lenders tended to charge much higher interest rates, and if you were late with a payment, well, they didn’t politely change the locks on your place and seize your property. They broke your arm.

God help him if it came to that.

Earl came in off the balcony and opened the fridge. Was it too early to drink? What was it they said? It was five o’clock somewhere, right? He looked longingly at the three cans of Bud and the half bottle of a five-dollar white.

What was the harm.

He was reaching for a beer when his phone rang. “Hello?”

“Mr.Givins?”

“Yeah?”

“Here to look at the car?”

“Be right down.”

He met the man out front of the building. Big guy, about six feet, handsome, jet-black hair, the kind of guy who’d look perfect behind the wheel of a sports car, Earl thought. They shook hands and introduced themselves.

“Earl Givins.”

“Cayden, Cayden Silver.”

“Come on in, we’ll take the stairs. Car’s underground.”

Should have already had it parked on the street, Earl thought. He’d been so preoccupied he hadn’t thought to bring the car outside. They went through the lobby and down a hallway behind the elevators and took the stairs down two flights to the lower-level garage.

“It’s just over here,” Earl said.

He led Cayden down a row of cars until they were into one of the corners. Earl had parked the car between a wall and a pillar. The passenger side was no more than a foot from the wall.

“I like this spot because no one can get close to it, ding your door, you know?” he said, hoping Cayden wouldn’t notice that the car had plenty of nicks down the side already. Cayden stood a couple of paces back from the front bumper, taking it all in.

“Nice,” he said. “One of the early ones. First generation. A ninety-seven?”

“That’s right.”

Cayden got close to the car, had a look at the convertible top. “This looks kind of rough in places.”

“Still pretty airtight inside. It’s not drafty with the top up.” Earl laughed nervously. “But a baby like this, you’re gonna want to drive it with the top down as much as you can, anyway.”

“Hard to get a good look at in this light. And I’d like to be able to walk around it.”

“If you’re serious, we’ll take it outside. You could take it for a spin. Hope you won’t mind if I ride along, point out its features and all.”

Earl took the key from his pocket and unlocked the vehicle so that his prospective buyer could examine the interior. Cayden opened the driver’s door and leaned in.

“Seats are a little tattered,” he said. “Cracked in places.”

“But they still give lots of support. When you’re sitting in them, you hardly notice.”

Cayden stood back, closed the door. “The ad said you’re looking for seventeen?”

“That’s right.” Earl had listed it for seventeen thousand, but the truth was, he’d take less.

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