Page 8 of Ms. Fortune

“Betty?” I wasn’t aware the car had a name.

“What? Oh yeah, my dad named every car he bought. They’re all female, now that I think about it. I wonder why that is.”

“Actually, I think that practice has something to do with boats and ships and sea goddesses or something, but I’m not sure.” Useless trivia like that hides in the corners of my brain, just waiting to come out and fill awkward silences whenever needed. Unfortunately, it’s also typically incomplete.

“Weird,” she mutters, punching a code into the keypad by the entrance of the next garage over and opening the door.

When I take a look around, I spot Betty right away, and she’s still gorgeous.

“There she is.” I smile and start making my way toward her location in the corner. Her sharp front angles and shiny chrome bumper stick out prominently in the row of cars. Chelsie follows behind me, her heels clicking on the checkerboard tile floor.

“So, Betty is a 1967 Chevy Impala SS hardtop fastback. If I remember correctly, she’s got a turbo-jet V8 engine and a 4-speed manual transmission. Power steering, but manual brakes. My dad bought her at a local auction. A pretty decent bidding war was waged to win her, but he was determined. He had to have her.”

“I completely understand why. Betty and I are well acquainted.” I walk around to the other side, studying the impeccable paint job and the classic lines of the fastback. I rented this car a few years ago from Victor during a stay for my company’s annual meeting, and it was the most fun I’ve had driving in a very long time. I went into the desert toward the Hoover Dam and opened her up on the highway. It was the last time I think I felt remotely free.

“Brandon?” Chelsie sounds like she’s been trying to get my attention. I must have zoned out remembering that drive.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Did you want to take her for a ride? I can grab the keys….”

“No need. How much do you want for her?” It almost sounds like I’m buying a person. Creepy. I don’t need a test drive. I know this car. I want this car. And like Victor, I’ll do what it takes to get it.

Chelsie seems surprised by my jumping right into the sale, but I’m not one to fuck around. If I want something, I get it. Plain and simple.

She studies me briefly, considering what to quote for a price. I have a feeling I’m about to be fleeced, but if it means good old Betty is mine, I’m okay with it.

“One Hundred and Fifty thousand.” She thrusts her chin out, expecting me to haggle her down in price and ready to argue her case. I almost feel bad that I’m making this too easy for her.

“Sold.” I know the car isn’t worth quite that much, but if it helps Victor’s daughters keep the business going, I’m all in. “I’ll have my assistant, Diane, contact you for the wire transfer information if it’s different from our normal business setup, and arrange delivery tomorrow if that’s okay?”

Chelsie is speechless for a minute as my words sink in. She had no clue I’d be such a pushover. She stares at me with her mouth open. My grandmother would have said something about her catching flies, but I can’t remember the exact phrasing, so I don’t repeat it. She finally nods slightly.

“Oh, and wasn’t there an Aston Martin Vanquish? or Superleggera? I can’t remember which one, but it was a beauty. Is that still around? If so, I’d like to take a look at that one if you have the time. I know this is strange with the funeral and everything.”

She snaps out of her stupor and catches up with what I’ve said. Shaking her head, she says, “Yeah, there’s a Vanquish in the next garage. Her name is Tina….” Her voice trails off as she walks back to the exit, and I again follow her.

When I came to this funeral, I didn’t know I’d be in the market to buy cars, but it feels good to give back a little bit in Victor’s honor. I think he’d be happy I’m helping his daughters the only way I know. Now, if only I could get Normandy to see me as I am, I’d feel better about everything.

Chapter 6

UNSPUN

NORMANDY

As I view my half-sister leave the main garage with Brandon Carmichael hot on her heels, a rush of heat etches its way through my spine. What in the world are they doing? And where are they going together? In the middle of a post-funeral reception?

Chelsie seemed excited about Brandon coming today, but I didn’t expect her to go after him so blatantly. I’m not sure why, but a spike of jealousy hits my heart. Chelsie and I have very different tastes in men, so I’m surprised at her interest in Brandon. Of course, there are at least one billion reasons she’d be interested. Not that I think Chelsie is necessarily shallow, but wealth of that magnitude is attractive to some people. People like Chelsie.

“I am sorry for your loss, Ms. Blake.” A rough voice breaks me out of my thoughts. I turn and find an older gentleman, about my late father’s age, his face sun-weathered and in an extremely outdated suit, with an unlit cigar in one hand. Definitely a Vegas local, and the back of my brain tickles that he’s familiar to me somehow, but I can’t pinpoint it. “Old Vic was always a tough competitor, but he was fair. I’ll give him that.”

“Oh?” I’m curious what kind of rival this man was to my dad. “How did you two know each other?” The way he rakes his eyes over me makes me super uncomfortable. I take a small step away from him, trying to keep it discreet and not offend him. As a woman, I hate that I have to do this, but here we are.

“We were sort of adversaries, if you will. Always fighting against each other for the good cars at auction and such, among other business dealings.” He puts the cigar in his mouth and extends a nicotine-stained hand for me to shake. “I’m Louie Calnetta. I run Calnetta Cars over in Henderson.”

That name does ring a small bell in my head, I think I have heard it before, but I couldn’t say when or why. I begrudgingly take his hand to shake and quickly withdraw mine from his vice-like grip.

“Thank you for coming today, Mr. Calnetta.” I give him a small smile and curt nod and move to walk past him, but he steps in my way, blocking me.

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