Carolyn Arnold - McKinley 04 - Politics is Murder (2 page)

What’s Under The Hood

THE SHOWROOM WAS ELEGANTLY ARRANGED with cars displayed on circular platforms and the sitting area consisted of plush, leather couches accented with modern coffee tables.

Sean’s eyes went directly to a silver sports model and he ran his hand along the side.

He admired the sleek bodyline, and the leather interior. What had most of his attention were the gullwing doors, which opened up, like the DeLorean in
Back to the Future
.

“Excuse me, may I help you with something?”

Sean pried his attention from the vehicle to meet the eyes of an inquisitive salesman, no older than twenty-five.

“Good day, I’m Sean.” He extended his hand.

The salesman shook it and introduced himself. “Chris.” He took a few well-paced steps and spun to look at Sean again. “I see you’re interested in the SLS AMG GT. Amazing car. Its good looks and bodyline are only matched by its superior handling. Have you ever owned a Mercedes before?”

“This would be my first one.”

“Well, you’d discover it would be a lovely treat.”

The salesman’s tone of voice carried the implication it might be out of Sean’s financial reach. Chris was saying, and not too subtly, that this model wasn’t for the middle-income earner, but it was geared to those with a strong financial portfolio.

Sean suppressed smirking at the thought that the salesman, who seemed to deem himself superior, didn’t recognize the cut of suit Sean wore. He slipped a hand into a pant pocket, the jacket lifting over his arm, draping in the fine manner expected of the designer. Beneath his jacket, he wore a matching vest, the fabric, a navy blue with white pinstripe.

Chris grinned smugly at Sean, and while the salesman attempted to establish a level of camaraderie through eye contact, he failed. Instead of finding offense to the situation, Sean found amusement.

“Does it get good fuel mileage?” he asked.

“Comparable, for its class.”

“Yet it stands on its own.”

“Yes, as do all Mercedes.”

Chris pointed to another vehicle nearby. “Now, I’m not sure if you’ve seen our CLA Class, but it boasts Mercedes excellence at an economical price point.”

“Actually,” Sean bobbed his head toward the car in front of him. “I would like to take this one for a test drive. I assume that will not be a problem.”

Sara, who had been quiet up until now, laced her arm through Sean’s. “You fell in love already?”

“This is the one, darling, and this fine gentleman is going to hook us up for a test drive.”

Chris straightened his tie at the knot, lingering there awkwardly. He gestured toward a line of glass-partitioned offices, directing them to one in the middle. “We’ll need to complete a financial background first, but then the keys will be in your hands. I’ll also need to come along, company policy, as I’m sure you can imagine.” He pressed his lips and took off toward the office.

“Darling, do you think it’s necessary to take it for a spin? If we don’t like it, we could just pick up another car, give this one to Jimmy, or use it for running errands.” Sara nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders.

Chris stopped walking and spun around. He blinked deliberately and his gaze went from Sean to Sara.

Sean could have lifted his wife in that moment and spun her around, for her amazing ability to read people.

Chris cleared his throat and blinked. “This way.” He was on the move again.

He dropped behind the desk and Sean sat across from him. Sara stood in the doorway, seemingly disinterested in the entire process.

Chris pulled out a pad of forms. “First, we’ll need to complete this. If you would be so kind as to fill in your information,” he ripped off the top sheet and extended it, with a pen, toward Sean, “then we’ll go from there.”

Sean played along, finding it interesting how one was treated when seen as not having enough to justify setting foot in the dealership. This was the class he was used to being grouped with, and, now that he had no need to subjugate himself to the treatment, he actually found it amusing. When the truth came out how wealthy he was, Chris would wither into the floor.

He started filling in the form and got as far as his name and a start on their address, when a figure outside the glass caught his attention. It was an older man, dressed in a tailored suit, no doubt a designer cut. The man stopped beside Sara, taking her in, from the tip of her Jimmy Choo shoes, past her Louis Vuitton handbag, all the way up to the hat she wore.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but are you Sara McKinley?” he asked.

Sara smiled pleasantly. “I am.”

The man looked from her, into the office at Sean, and then over to Chris. “I’m Roman Bryant, the owner of this fine dealership. I trust that you’re getting all the assistance you need, Mr. McKinley.”

Roman kept his eyes on his employee as he maneuvered past Sara, into the office. His eyes went to the form in Sean’s hands, and his face reddened, his brows pulled downward, and Sean made out a pulse in his cheek.

He addressed the salesman.“What are you doing here?”

The question, fully directed at Chris, had the young man reaching for the knot of his tie again. “Standard policy, sir, they are…” he cleared his throat, “filling out the financial paperwork for the background.”

“You make all the customers fill out these forms?” Roman took the sheet from Sean with a pressed smile that communicated admiration and respect for him, and then he dropped the uncompleted form in front of Chris. “Do you have any idea who these people are?” Roman gestured to Sean and Sara with a wide sweep of his arms.

Chris’s face paled as he looked from Sean to Sara, back to Sean.

“I will take that as a no. These people get whatever they want, do you understand?” Roman turned pleasantly toward Sean. “What fine model garnered your attention?”

“He fell in love with the SLS AMG GT,” Sara chirped in.

“Let’s get you a set of keys, then, shall we?”

Chris bolted to his feet. “But, boss, company pol—”

“Rubbish. This is Sean and Sara McKinley. It might not hurt for you to listen to the news or read the papers.” He addressed Sean and Sara. “Please, forgive him for this misunderstanding.”

Sean glimpsed at Chris, who wouldn’t satisfy his desire for eye contact.

“McKinley.” The name slipped from Chris’s lips and then his eyes widened. He covered his mouth and dropped his hand nearly as quickly as it had made contact. “I am so sorry.”

“As you should be. We will discuss this matter later,” Roman said.

“You know what? I’ve changed my mind.” Sean hadn’t used the money to toy with people yet, but he realized he didn’t altogether hate the power that came with it.

“Changed your mind?” Panic draped across Roman’s features, followed by a flash of rage directed to his employee. “If there is anything we can do, please.”

“Well, there is, actually.” Sean casually placed his hands in his pockets again.

“Valentino.” The designer cut wasn’t missed by Roman.

“Correct.” Sean glimpsed at Chris, who had dropped back into his chair.

“Very nice. May I?” Roman asked, hand extended.

Sean nodded and Roman touched the sleeve, barely brushing the fabric with his fingertips. He lifted his head, leveling eyes with Sean.

“The test drive, please, let me arrange it for you. You can go right now.”

“No, I don’t think I’m in the mood for that anymore.”

“Please, Mr. McKinley.”

Sean went to Sara and wrapped his arm around her waist. He waited the beats of a few seconds and then said, “We’ll just take it. Actually,” he glanced at Sara, “we’ll take two.”

Settled In For The Night

A FEW HOURS LATER, THEY left the dealership with a new car in metallic gray. The second one was being ordered in as Sara requested it in Mars Red, a color they didn’t have in stock. They also ordered vanity plates—
McKinley 1
and
McKinley 2.

They drove past their future home and, even though the house sat back on the property, the sight of the gate and winding drive was enough to infuse them with electric energy. They were ready to move on and make a home together—somewhere fresh and new where they could put their stamp on it.

After they drove by it, they were lost in conversation about furniture arrangement and their personalized plans for the property. Even an hour later, when they had slipped by the post office to pick up Sara’s held mail, they were still talking about it.

“I really want to paint one room red,” Sara said as she shuffled through a pile of envelopes.

“You have a thing for red.” He took the mail from her with one hand while reaching to grasp hers with his other one, as they walked back to the car.

Sara gazed up at him. “It really is a beauty.”

“Yeah, not bad is it?”

“I thought that poor salesman was going to have a heart attack when his boss came in.”

“And did you see his face when I said we’d take two?”

They were both laughing.

“I know we shouldn’t take such pleasure in it, Sara, but—”

“Hey, it was fun. It’s not like we’ve always had money.”

“What do you say to a celebratory dinner?”

“For the money?”

Sean shrugged. “For the money, the car, the house.” A certain mischievousness lit his eyes. “Us.”

“Sounds like an excellent idea.”

They chose a small bistro and had a peaceful meal, dining by candlelight and sipping a glass of wine. Afterward, they headed home and that’s where they settled, on the sofa, at eight forty-five, getting ready to watch themselves on TV.

“Here you go, darling.” Sean handed her a glass of cognac, a habit that had recently entrenched the both of them. They had even invested in a set of crystal snifters, an odd contrast against the rest of the dishes filling Sean’s cupboards.

“Thank you.” Sara reached out from beneath the blanket she was nestled under. “I always hate seeing myself on television.”

“I’m not really sure why. You’re beautiful.” He snuggled beside her.

“Says the man who is extremely partial.” She smiled at him, a lazy one encouraged by the eventful day and the glass of wine earlier. After she drank the cognac, she would be melting into the sofa.

Their eyes drifted from each other and toward the TV. The volume was muted but the local news played out on screen. From the captions and expressions on people’s faces, along with picket signs, something had happened.

“Turn it up, please,” Sara said.

“I was just go—”

“Zoning bylaws are making it impossible for the local business owner. How are we supposed to carry on when taxes go sky high? We barely make enough to survive now.”

The concern came from an older woman, who stood in front of a man, about her age. He had his arm around her, his hand on her shoulder.

“This business has been in our family for generations and we are forced to close our doors.”

The reporter took the microphone from the woman’s face and put it back in her own.
“It seems Mayor Davenport has some answering to do for the business people of Albany. When we tried to contact him, we were told that the mayor wasn’t fielding any investigative inquiries at this time. That’s another way of saying ‘no comment’ or ‘it’s not my problem.’ Abby Clark, reporting from downtown Albany.”

Sean took a draw of cognac and set the glass down on the table beside him. “I knew there was a reason I didn’t vote for the guy.”

Sara chuckled. “I didn’t realize you loved politics.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t vote.”

“You should see the look on your face right now.” She pointed at him. “Of course I do, but I don’t think it really matters who is in office.”

He shifted his body, angling toward her. “And…you are American?”

“Stop it.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You don’t think it matters?”

“Nope.” She took a sip, and opted for cradling the glass against her chest.

“Hmm.”

“I didn’t realize I married a political junkie.”

“Oh no, I’m not exactly that, but I think it does matter who is voted in.”

“Can we agree to disagree on this one?” The way she looked at him, the softness in her expression, the glint in her eyes, she could get away with murder right now.

He nodded.

She turned back toward the TV. “There we are.”

It was an introductory piece about what would be coming up next. It showcased Reanne Mable, with flashes of them, the caption reading
Move over Donald Trump
.

“We’re going to be larger than life on this thing.” She lowered her head, her chin tucking toward her chest.

“You don’t like my large screen TV?”

“Don’t you mean ours?”

He teased her. “I’m sharing my billions with you and you want to stake claim on the electronics too?”

“I figure, why not.” She laughed.

“You know, I bought this thing when you told me we’d just be friends.”

She reached out and touched his arm, resulting in her moving over and snuggling into his side. “Blanket?” She held it up, bracing to drape it over him, but he shook his head. “You were seeking retail therapy?”

“Yep.” He pointed to the media area. “Actually everything you see over there.”

She angled her head toward him. “It was all bought the day I said we’d remain friends?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her happy expression diluted into a somber one, extinguishing the light from her eyes for the trace of a second. “You know we had to make that decision, right?”

“Yes, but don’t worry your pretty little head about it anymore because it’s history.” He brushed back hair from her forehead and kissed her there.

“I’m so happy that it is,” she said.

“Me too.” He wrapped his arm around her and they watched themselves play out on the screen.