Page 86 of Giddy Up, Daddy

Of course, she’d given him a little push in that direction, and she’d probably be paying for it later.Just add it to the bill, she thought with a loud sigh.

The deal had only been finalized that morning, and the owner was… difficult to work with, and not happy with the deal she was getting. If he hadn’t had to sell fast, he probably wouldn’t have let her have the truck at all. But he was definitely surly about taking the loss.

All that time trawling online listings and the classifieds in Sam’s swap paper hadn’t turned up the right truck, in the right place, and she’d almost given up. But then, a few weeks ago, she’d checked the classifieds, mostly out of habit, and found… the exact truck she wanted.

The price was higher than she was willing to pay, but she knew people expected some haggling, and she was confident she could bring it down to her budget.

The body was pristine. It looked like time had barely touched it. The ad made it clear that there were some mechanical issues. There was a list of things that would need fixing, but the owner said it still ran, and that none of it would be too difficult.

Which was fine, because she knew Sam liked to tinker anyway. He’d probably like it all the more, for being able to work on it in his spare time. Her Daddy needed a hobby anyway.

It was absolutely perfect, except, when she made an offer the seller started to get shady. Micky Smith, the proud owner of the truck, was desperately trying to sell as quickly as possible, but he was also determined to get top dollar.

He’d insisted on telling her a long story about his financial woes, but it ended up with, “I swear I was barely buzzed, and I drive better with a few drinks in me anyway. DUI checkpoints should be illegal, and honestly, I’m not even sure the test was accurate. But the judge believed it and I lost my license. Only, I still needed to get places, right? So, yeah, anyway, I got snagged driving on a suspended and the court fees and fines are ridiculous.”

“Uh-huh…” She wasn’t entirely sure what any of that had to do with selling the truck, but she was trying to humor him, even though she desperately wanted to get off the phone.

“Yeah, so I’d really like to sell it for thirty.”

“Right—wait, thirty thousand? But… you listed it for twenty-five thousand!” Charlie sat up, insides sinking as the truck suddenly seemed to slide out of reach. She’d capped her budget for this at twenty-three, and Sam would probably still have a dozen fits over it.

Thirty? For a hobby vehicle? That was out of the question. She’d never sit again when her Daddy got through with her.

“Well, yeah, you know, to get people interested. Everyone knows those prices are just a starting place,” he said.

“Uh, yeah, but you start high and go down. You don’t go up,” she blurted. Her tone was more shocked than angry, though her temper was starting to rise too.

He disagreed and refused to lower his price and finally ended the call. A few days later he called her back asking if she was still interested, and there was a … sly tone to his voice. A bit of smirking lurked behind the words, as if implying she’d have reconsidered her silliness by then.

It only made her more determined to get a good deal. They argued and, again, he hung up. At that point he’d probably been hoping for other offers. She assumed he hadn’t gotten any because over a week passed before he called her again.

There was more arguing, more explanations, and finally he agreed to come down… to the asking price.

For a second, she was tempted to take it. But she was mad he’d tried to trick her with a bait-and-switch, and her pride simply wasn’t going to accept that. “No, I’ll give you twenty-three thousand, in cash.” She paused, then added, “And I’ll throw in three hundred if you have someone drive it to me.”

He sputtered and cursed over the line. The expected disconnect came.

Each time he did that, Charlie got a little more confident. It felt like she was winning the fight, and her only concern was that someone else might make an offer in the meantime. Apparently, no one else was interested, because he finally reached out to her one last time.

When he called, Charlie was barely out of bed, still in her pajamas, sitting at her desk as she tried to decide if she was awake enough to get some schoolwork done.

He didn’t bother to say hello. Just, “Make it an extra five hundred… andyoupick it up. I don’t have a license, remember?”

The disinterest in her tone was calculated, inside she was anything but. The Li’l Red wassoclose to being hers, well, Sam’s. “If I have to hire someone to pick it up, they are getting the money, not you. It’s your choice. I’m sure you have some friend who could drive you.”

Making him bring it to her doorstep was petty, sure, but it also saved her from having to bring someone else into the conspiracy. The more people who knew a secret, the more likely it was to get out, and it had been years since she’d driven a stick. She wasn’t risking an expensive, classic transmission to her rusty skills.

“Fine,” he snapped. “What’s your address so I can look at the distance?”

She hesitated and then reluctantly told him.

“I’ll bring it over today. You better have the money.”

“Wait, we need to plan—" But before she could finish, he’d disconnected, and she was talking to a dead line. She called him back, but there was no answer.

She’d growled and glared at the screen. It was going to ruin everything if he just showed up randomly and Sam happened to be there. On the other hand, a ruined surprise was better than no surprise at all. She’d just have to hope he wasn’t home when Micky arrived.

Since she didn’t keep that kind of money lying around the house she was forced to make an emergency trip into town. She hurried to get dressed and made it out the door without seeing Sam, but when she got home, he was sitting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee and one of his car papers spread out on the table in front of him.

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