AS SOON AS Ivan pulled up to the World Wide Luxury Cars dealership in La Jolla, he spotted the Bentleys, Rolls-Royces, Lamborghinis, Aston Martins, Ferraris, Bugattis, and other expensive cars that they advertised. They were all parked behind a large, shatterproof-glass showroom.

When he parked in the customer spaces outside, driving his mundane Nissan Altima, some of the younger salesmen had no idea what to make of him. Was he there to buy a car or to sightsee? So no one rushed to the door to greet him until they noticed his classy and casual style of dress, his air of importance, and the diamond stud earring that twinkled in his left earlobe.

“What’s your preference, the Ferraris or the Lamborghinis?” one of the older salesmen asked Ivan on his way in. The full-gray-headed man beat the younger guys to the punch, figuring that he would ignore the Altima that the man drove up in. Plenty of their wealthy clients had decided to splurge after living more budgeted lifestyles. New millionaires popped up in America every day, and from all walks of life.

Ivan looked the cars over inside the showroom and remembered the yellow Ferrari that had driven past him in the Gaslamp Quarter nearly a year ago.

I was too slow back then, he remembered. I wonder what I am now.

They had two different models of yellow Ferraris inside the showroom, and also a yellow Lamborghini. But they weren’t Ivan’s taste. All of the sports cars screamed for too much attention. Only the black ones would work for a more humble customer. Then again, once Ivan spotted the Continental GTs from Bentley, he figured that maybe a sports car could work for him.

“Damn,” he expressed of a cranberry-red Continental with shiny twenty-inch rims. Ivan walked over near it and noticed the two-tone brown leather interior. The older salesman followed him.

“Oh, yeah, she’s a beauty. That’s your dinner and breakfast car there,” the salesman commented. “You take a woman to dinner in that, and you get to have her around for breakfast the next morning.”

Ivan smiled and chuckled. When he turned and faced a younger salesman in his twenties, the younger man noticed him.

“Hey, you’re Ivan David, aren’t you, from IDPromotions.com? You just had that big birthday network party a few weeks ago at the Grand Hyatt, right?”

It still felt good. He knew Ivan’s whole rundown.

Ivan kept his cool and nodded to him. “Did you make it out there that night?”

“No, but our owner did. You remember meeting a Roman Zemeckis?”

Ivan said, “As a matter of fact, I do. And I think he told me to meet him here today at two o’clock. Is he around?”

The younger salesman laughed it off. He caught on to Ivan’s sarcasm. But the older salesman was still lost.