Sherri was so mad she could cry. “I said burgundy, I did! That’s the only color I’ve ever wanted. I’d never ask for brown. It’s ugly. Dirty.” Carmen was right. She should have never bought a car without a man, any man. “I didn’t change my mind. You didn’t listen to me.”

“Sure I did. Besides, you don’t want burgundy. Stands out too much.”

“I want to stand out!”

“I’ll bet you do. But trust me, brown is nice. It’s a dignified color.”

“I don’t want to look dignified.”

“Well, maybe you should. This color is more becoming of a lady.” Suddenly it clicked: he knew she was a Bunny. When she filled out the credit application, she’d listed Playboy Corporation as her employer. She saw the light glint off the gold cross on his necklace. He was doing this on purpose! This lazy son of a bitch with his big desk and big chair. She’d like to see him make a living with stays cutting into his back and corns on his toes from pointy shoes. He could try to dip and smile for tips. He could work a double or a triple and know what that felt like. He could end up with a shit-colored car.

“This here’s what you bought. You can trade it for burgundy, I suppose, but there’s a five-hundred-dollar up-charge, not to mention the shipping and wheel tax, and who knows when it’ll get here. Could be a few weeks, could be a few months.”

“I want my money back. I don’t want this car.”

“It doesn’t work like that, sweetheart. See here?” He pointed at her signature. “It says plain as day that this is the car you bought. This is your signature, right? Sherri with an i?”

“I want to talk to Mr. Frascona.”

“He’s on vacation, and I’m in charge. I suggest you calm down. If you have a tizzy fit, I’ll have to ask security to escort you out.”

“You’re going to call security? On me?” It was all she could do not to hit him with her purse, lunge at him, put her hands around his neck and squeeze with all her might.

He handed her the key and opened the driver’s-side door.

“Get in,” Sherri said to Raylee, who scrambled into the passenger side. Her dirty shoes left marks on the soft velour seat.

“Let me show you how this works.” Rick leaned in through the open window and pointed at one of the gauges.

Sherri would have none of it. “I’ll sue you.”

“You go ahead.” He handed her the receipt and title, and she tossed it into the back seat like trash.