his hand away. "Lucky for you, we tend to specialize in different. Whatever you want, we can get. If it isn't on the lot, we can have it within a week—guaranteed."
"Good to know." Dante scanned the cars. Lamborghini. Porsche. Audi. Maserati. "Got any suggestions?"
"I'm a Ferrari fan, myself, but I suppose it depends on what you're hoping to get out of it. Safety? Discretion? Attention? I'm a big believer that what you drive sends a message, so what kind of message are you looking to send?"
Dante considered that. "That nobody owns me."
"Then I'd probably recommend the McLaren 12C. Unique, maybe not as popular, but it holds its own. Not black, which is cautious, or red, which tends to be antagonistic… maybe blue. It shows up, it's strong, but it doesn't necessarily disrupt the order, yet there's character to it, not subdued."
Dante looked in the direction Alfie pointed, at a bright blue supercar off to the side. The second his eyes landed on it, he wanted it. "Sold."
Alfie looked at him with surprise. "Seriously?"
"Sure, why not?"
"Well, then, why don't we head to my office and talk specifics?"
Dante followed the man inside, those eyes still trailing him the entire way to a back office. He took a seat in a black leather chair as Alfie settled in behind his oversized desk.
"Cigar?" he offered.
"I don't smoke," Dante said.
"You mind if I do?"
"Not at all."
Alfie lit up, puffing away, before lounging back in his office chair. "You got any special requests? Any particular needs? Armor, maybe bulletproof glass? Shock sensors and remote starters tend to be popular these days. They come together in a, uh… bomb-proofing package, if you're interested."
"I think it'll be fine just how it is."
"A man with simple tastes. I can respect that."
Alfie sorted through paperwork, cigar wedged between his lips, while curiosity got the best of Dante. "What do you drive?"
"What do I drive?"
Answering a question by repeating the question was the first rule in the 'how-to' of stalling. "I'm just curious, given your profession."
Alfie turned back to the paperwork. Dante figured he wouldn't answer, but he eventually muttered, "Crown Vic."
Same kind of car the police often drove. "And what message does that send about you?"
"Step out of line, I'll take your ass down," he said, no hesitation. "It pays to look like the good guy, no matter how bad you really are."
It took about thirty minutes for Alfie to get all the paperwork together, asking questions but refraining from getting too personal. A simple sale, cash exchange. It would take Dante a night to get the money together.
"Go ahead, take the car home with you," Alfie suggested once they finished. "I trust you'll come up with the money."
Trust.
That word felt heavy.
"And if I don't?" Dante asked.
Alfie smiled, a genuine smile, as he handed him the keys. "I guess we'll see if it happens."
They walked outside to the McLaren. Dante ran his hand along the sparkling paint, unlocking the car and lifting the vertical butterfly door. It was definitely something different.
"I was sorry to hear about your sister," Alfie said, the sudden serious topic catching Dante by surprise. So few people had said those words to him that they felt raw against his skin. Grating. "Never met her, but I heard good things. What happened, you know, it shouldn't have."
"It shouldn't have," Dante agreed.
"I sold that car to him. Matty. Told him red was antagonistic but he disagreed. Said it had heart. Boy was naive." Alfie laughed, but there was no humor to it—bitterness, maybe even some sadness, oozed out with that laughter. "I asked him the same question I ask everybody: what message are you trying to send? He said, 'that I'm not like the rest of them'. So I recommended the Lotus, but black, because that little shit should've hid. Should've had bulletproof glass and armored panels, while he was at it, but all he wanted was a remote starter so he didn't have to turn the fucking key."
Dante stared at the man. A remote starter.
Alfie motioned to the black Mercedes. "Anyway, what do you want us to do with that one?"
"Burn it," Dante suggested. "Light it on fire, invite the family over, make a thing of it."
"That's a good idea," Alfie said. "Kids might enjoy making s'mores."
"While the adults get their rocks off pretending I'm still inside of it."
"Contrary to popular belief, there's no bad blood over here, not as long as you keep your war on that side of the bridge."