Page 83 of Embody

I decide that’s a hard no, and say nothing.

“Your car, your headache,” he grumbles. “Better hope you don’t have a lead foot. That color will stick out to cops.”

“I understand, sir.” No harm in respectfully agreeing on a moot point, since again, I’m not getting the car.

Honestly, I’m still wondering how everyone misread my “run around the parking lot, weaving and bobbing between rows of cars, while screaming my refusal” as anything less than…refusal.

“Good. Let’s see how she runs, shall we?”

“I…um…” look around, “don’t see anyone to help us.”

He chuckles. “Watch this,” he says self-assuredly before raising his hand in the air for only a split second, when sure enough, good ol’ Doug appears out of thin air. I suppress a giggle, thinking back to mine and Jefferson’s dispute on “lurkers” and how Doug more than qualifies.

“Mr. Kendrick, how can I help?”

“We’d like to take this one out for a test drive.”

“Excellent! Let me go grab the keys and tell my manager I’m leaving.”

“Where ya going?” Mr. Kendrick instantly asks in thinly cloaked authority.

“W, with you,” Doug sounds as confused as he looks. “We have to ride along on test drives, sir.”

“I understand, and respect your position, but that’s not happening. How am I to have the private discussion I intend to with Bellamy if you’re in the car?”

“Well, uh,” poor Doug, he’s visibly sweating.

“Relax, Mr. Lumsden. It’s far from my intention to get you in any sort of trouble with your boss. Can you please take me to him?”

“Yes,” he replies glumly, turning to lead the way.

“Just a moment,” Mr. Kendrick stops him and looks at me, a certain, charming amusement I recognize well in his eyes. “Bellamy, when I return, I’d very much like to find you standing in this same spot, not bolting across the lot or hiding behind trash cans. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, sir,” I mumble with my head dipped, cheeks flushed by embarrassment.

“Fabulous. I’ll be right back.”

As I stand there, not moving a muscle, a thought hits me and I snicker aloud. I wouldn’t feel guilty taking the car if I legitimately won it in a bet…and I’d bet all day, every day, that Mr. Dane Kendrick comes back with the keys and no tag-along for our drive.

 

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