Mr. Perfect (Sinister in Savannah #2) - Aimee Nicole Walker Page 0,15
Spencer. I just started here a few weeks ago.”
“I know all my employees,” The Auto King boasted. Felix wanted to roll his eyes but managed to refrain. “Is Bill available?”
Bill Whitman was the service department manager. Felix had had the unfortunate experience of dealing with the moron on several occasions.
“No, I’m sorry, Mr. Spencer. Bill left for the day. His daughter is having a baby.”
“That’s fantastic news for them,” Spencer boomed as if he actually cared. “I’ll give Bill a call at home later. In the meantime, I need your help, Todd.”
Spencer put a hand on Felix’s shoulder, and it took everything in his power to keep from shrugging it off.
“Of course, sir. What can I do for you, Mr. Spencer?”
“This gentleman is Felix Franklin. I’m sure you’ve heard of him, Todd. He’s an investigative reporter and one of the hosts of the Sinister in Savannah podcast that everyone is talking about.”
Todd looked at Felix again. “I know who he is.” Felix was impressed that Todd kept a sneer off his face and hostility out of his voice.
“There’s been a terrible misunderstanding. Mr. Franklin’s transmission went out on his Fusion through no fault of his own. He purchased an extended warranty when he financed the car.” Spencer held up the stack of receipts. “He’s kept up his end of the bargain, and we’re going to honor ours. I want you to order a new transmission this evening and make arrangements with one of our tow truck drivers to retrieve Mr. Franklin’s car tomorrow morning. His extended warranty guarantees him a rental car or a loaner from our lot.” Spencer turned to face Felix. “You can have your pick of brand-new cars to drive from our dealership. There’s no need to involve a rental car agency in the process. We’ll deliver it to your home when we pick up your Fusion.”
“Any car?” Felix and Todd both asked.
Spencer chuckled. “Yes.”
It was on the tip of Felix’s tongue to refuse the offer, since he had his cherished Woody Wagon, but fuck that. Vehicle transportation was included in the warranty, and Spencer owed him this much for jerking him around. “Thank you.”
Spencer nodded. “It’s the least I can do. I want to make things right with the others too.” Felix knew Spencer was referring to the angry customers dragging his ass on the consumer site. Felix had purposely printed off the most unflattering comments.
“I can make a post inside the site informing them to contact the dealership,” Felix offered.
“Please do,” Spencer said. “I’ll let Bill know to expect the calls and to set up a process to make sure each claim is thoroughly investigated.” Then he looked at Todd. “Can you get the process started for Mr. Franklin? I want to be sure he’s not inconvenienced further by waiting for Bill to return.”
“Absolutely. You can count on me, sir.”
Spencer turned to Felix and extended his hand. “We got off to a rough start, but I appreciate you bringing your situation, as well as the others’, to my attention.”
Felix gripped the man’s hand and shook it. “Thanks for your time, Mr. Spencer.”
“What’s the address for where we need to pick up your Fusion and drop off the loaner?” Todd asked, interrupting them. He wouldn’t want to listen to Spencer praising Felix’s character.
“I’ll leave the two of you to get things going. Let me know if there’s more I can do,” Spencer said, as he walked away.
Felix rattled off his address to Todd, then turned to the side so he could observe Spencer. The man had surprised him, which didn’t occur often. Spencer stopped at the entrance to the showroom, where a hand sanitizer station was set up and pumped three squirts into his palm, vigorously rubbing his hands together before proceeding into the showroom. Was the guy a germophobe or was touching Felix the part Spencer found offensive?
Todd laughed, pulling Felix’s attention back to his childhood bully. The man sneered at him just like the time in the gym locker room in high school when he’d flung a sweaty piece of fabric at him. “Are my hand-me-down jeans and shoes enough, or do you want my used jockstraps too?” he’d taunted.
Todd leaned across the service desk and said, “I don’t care how much fame you have; you’ll always be trash.”
“Says the man who’s too stupid to realize his boss only knows his name because it’s stitched on his shirt,” Felix said, trying hard not to show that Todd had struck a nerve.