"That's what happens when you don't post a dress code at the door."
"Somebody get this man a bus pass and a reality check."
Derek read every comment. He took screenshots of his favorites, posted them back into the chat with fire emojis, then leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head. He wore the satisfied smile of a man who believed consequences were things that happened to other people.
A young salesman named Kyle walked over, phone in hand, still grinning.
"Dude, that was iconic. The way his face looked when you told him to leave. Priceless."
"You should have seen him try to fight it," Derek said. "Standing there talking about 'my son, my son,' like we haven't heard that a thousand times."
"You think he'll come back?"
Derek laughed. "With what? That rusted truck? He's probably halfway to the bus station by now."
He was not.
Theodore was still sitting on the tailgate, hands folded, eyes on the glass.
The showroom doors opened. Derek stepped outside with a cigarette in one hand and a lighter already clicking. He spotted Theodore and his face twisted, not with guilt, but annoyance, like a man discovering a stain he thought he had already wiped away.
"You're still here." Smoke curled from his lips. "I thought we were finished. You need me to call the actual police?"
"I'm waiting for my son, sir."
"Your son?" Derek took a slow drag. "The imaginary billionaire, right?"
He flicked ash toward the truck. A gray flake landed on the Chevy's hood.
"You know, I've been in this business eleven years. You want to know how many times somebody like you has tried this? 'My cousin works here. My brother knows the owner.' It's always a hustle. Always."
He pointed the cigarette at Theodore.
"You people come in, touch cars you'll never own, waste everyone's time, then play victim when somebody tells you the truth. So here it is one more time. You do not belong here. Go home. Take your fairy tales with you."
Theodore said nothing. He looked at Derek the way a man looks at weather, something to endure rather than argue with.
"Nothing to say?" Derek snorted. "Smart move, old man. First smart thing you've done all day."
He turned and walked back inside.
A minute later, Brenda appeared at the entrance. She pushed the door open just far enough to lean outside, raised her phone, and snapped a picture of Theodore sitting on the tailgate. She turned back inside, typing with her thumbs.
The showroom erupted in muffled laughter Theodore could hear through the glass.
She had captioned it, "Still waiting for his son, LOL."
Another wave of emojis followed. Another round of jokes at the expense of a man who had done nothing except believe the invitation his son had given him.
A young woman in heels and a designer bag clicked past Theodore toward the entrance. She glanced at him and quickened her stride, pulling her purse tight against her ribs.
Theodore noticed. He always noticed. Sixty-eight years of noticing.