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Chapters (57)
  1. Welcome to the Game
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraphs
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. Six months later . . .
  56. Acknowledgments
  57. Back Cover

He walked back up the street and around the corner. Chris and Abby were waiting in the Prius. Spencer jumped in. He scribbled the address of where he’d left the Subaru on a piece of paper and mailed it to the depot before they hit the freeway. All three were hungry but they wouldn’t stop until they reached Toledo.

34

34

AWOL

“Another?” said Zed.

“Another two,” said Spencer.

Zed had stopped being incredulous. There was something about the British element of the Fairlane experience that was really working. Spencer’s figures were going to be out of sight if it kept up. It was weird when he’d strode back into the dealership, having dropped off the grid since their first meeting. But Spencer said he’d work for free until his first sale. That kind of thing resonated with Zed’s own zany brand of moxie. “Take the floor, my friend,” he’d said. An hour later a couple put their card down for a fully loaded BMW 5 Series. That had been two weeks ago.

Three days ago, he’d given notice to the rest of his sales guys. Then Zed had employed his eldest niece as receptionist. Her sole duty was keeping people sweet with drinks and small talk while taking their details until Spencer was free to take their money.

Zed still knew little about his latest employee. Spencer turned up, chatted amiably about cars and the weather, and left at five. He politely declined offers to socialize outside of work hours and any form of social networking was a definite no-no. He wouldn’t even let his picture be taken for fear of being tagged somewhere.

Zed knew from his lawyer that Spencer had a seriously bad credit history. When the matter of pay and Social Security numbers came up, Spencer mumbled something about seeing how things were going after a few more weeks. The guy was obviously the type who’d sailed too close to the wind: a man after Zed’s own heart. Besides that, he was apparently more preoccupied with working than with worrying about how or when he was going to get paid for it. And that made him catch of the century.

One afternoon, Zed watched Spencer wave off a customer.

“You think Mister Indecisive is going to buy something?” he asked.

“Definitely. He loves the car but doubts his judgment,” said Spencer. “Been married three times so I guess he wants to choose the right car at least.” He lit a cigarette.

“You want to quit that, Spencer. You have way too bright a future ahead.”

“Working up to it.”

“About your money,” said Zed after a few moments.

Spencer looked on edge.

“Cool those jets, my friend. I’m not pushing for your life history, I just want to pay you. It gives me pleasure to reward you. I mean you’re not here for your health, right?”

Spencer smiled.