Devil Incarnate (Boys of Preston Prep #4) - Angel Lawson Page 0,124

came here. I want to see about getting it back.”

“Ah,” Jerry says, circling his desk and flipping through some papers. “Wilcox. Here we are. Even with depreciation, that vehicle has a value of over ninety thousand dollars.”

Heston takes a bite of the granola bar and chews before asking, “How much will that cost me if I can’t pay for it all at once?”

“How much do you have for a down payment?”

Heston‘s jaw freezes, mid-chew. “At the moment? None.”

Jerry stares at him, and I can tell from the way his brow twitches that he’s struggling to keep a composed face. “I see. Well, if you have good credit, we can try a traditional loan, which will be…” he grabs a calculator and punches in some numbers, “about five grand a month.”

That flare of wild anger, the one I’d seen back at the pool, flickers barely under the surface. Before it can fully emerge, I jump in. “Jerry,” I say, grabbing Heston’s hand. “Can you give us a minute?”

He gives us a pandering smile. “Of course. Take your time.”

He walks out, shutting the door behind him. I look at the simmering man beside me. “Heston, look. You can’t afford this car. You just can’t. I know that sucks and I know you don’t want to hear it, but you’re going to have to look for something cheaper.”

He balls up the granola bar wrapper and throws it at the trashcan. It misses. “I’m not getting another car,” he insists, arms crossing over his chest. He looks like a petulant toddler. “I already have a car.”

I force my eyes not to roll. “You need something to get you to your appointments and work. It doesn’t have to be an Escalade. For five grand, you can buy something used and still—”

“You’re not listening!” he snaps, bringing a palm down on the desk. “It doesn’t have to be an Escalade, it has to be that Escalade. I don’t care if I pay five grand a month. I don’t care if I have to pay ten.”

Now, I do let my eyes roll. “That’s just ridiculous.”

“Of course it’s ridiculous!” he explodes, reaching up to jerkily adjust the hat beneath his hood. “Fuck, you think I don’t know that? I’m not an idiot.”

I watch him for a long moment, the tired circles around his eyes, the way his hand tenses when he pushes it into his stomach, jaw clenched with a hard swallow. “Then what is it? Why is that car so important?”

“You wouldn’t get it.” He shakes his head, looking away. “You’ve still got everything. The money. The nice, loaded family. People tripping over themselves to help you, to make sure you make it through. People who give a shit. People who like you. I don’t have anything.” He meets my gaze, and I almost flinch at the spark of vulnerability I see there. “That car is it. The nice life with the loaded family? Aside from my name—and trust me, he’d take that if he fucking could—it’s all I have.”

“That’s not true,” I argue, trying to get through to him. “You have a successful business.”

He gives a low, dark laugh. “Trust me. Even that’s not mine.”

I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean. “You’re more than a car, Heston.”

He presses his fingers into a temple, massaging it. “You can’t really be this naïve, Little Red. It’s about having the best. It’s about upholding a reputation.”

I reach for his hand, looking bluntly into his tired eyes as I give it a shake. “What are you doing? It doesn’t matter what kind of car you drive. You could be driving around in a piece of shit beater or the newest flashy Lambo, and no one would care.” For a split second, the crease in his brow fades away. And then I add, “People would still look down on you. Your reputation is a total dumpster fire.”

I’ve known Heston long enough to understand what he appreciates and respects, and I’ve always held unapologetic frankness as being high on the list. But the instant the words leave my mouth, I know it was the wrong thing to say. His expression alters, shifting from annoyed to something different. Something new and eerily still. It lurks in the way he averts his eyes, the tightness around his mouth, the tired curve of his shoulders. His very essence is screaming it.

I’m struck with the startling realization that I just hurt his feelings.

I didn’t even know Heston Wilcox had feelings.

“Heston, I didn’t mean—”

He stands.