"Guys like that come in every day," he said. "Free coffee, free air conditioning, an hour sitting in a truck, and then the bus home. I work on commission, Kayla. A man with empty pockets doesn't get five minutes of my time."
"We don't know what's in his pockets," Kayla replied.
Dean, who had joined them, chuckled. "Then send him back to your desk. Minimum-wage people understand each other just fine, don't they?"
Kayla glanced toward the older man and felt a flicker of shame, though it was not her behavior causing it. "He's asking a reasonable question," she said. "We advertise the price of the truck to the public."
"And he isn't the public I need today," Chad replied. "I have a meeting to prepare for."
For a few seconds, Kayla considered walking back and inventing an excuse for Chad's absence. She could describe the truck herself as best she knew how, perhaps find another consultant who would not humiliate the man, and get him the information he wanted. But Frank had seen the conversation from across the floor, and by the time Kayla turned, he had already stood and begun walking toward them.
"Son," Frank said pleasantly, "could you tell me the price of that red pickup? It's for my grandson."
Chad placed both hands on his hips. "Sixty-two thousand dollars, Pops. For you, that's probably ten years of income, give or take."
Frank stopped in front of him. "I asked about the price of the truck, son. Not the size of my income."
Chad laughed. "I made two hundred forty grand in commissions last year. I know your kind from the door."
"Then tell me something," Frank said. "How many customers did you turn away at that door this year?"
"Guys like you? I don't count them. If I counted every window shopper, I'd never have made two hundred forty."
A couple browsing SUVs heard the answer and exchanged a glance. The woman took a step toward the front desk, perhaps intending to leave, but her husband quietly suggested they wait to see how the conversation ended. Across the showroom, a service technician entering with a set of keys stopped and looked toward Chad. Kayla saw each small reaction and wished someone with more authority would intervene.
Frank gestured toward the truck. "What engine does that model carry? And how much can it tow safely?"
"Why? Planning to haul your groceries home from the discount store?"
"Planning to give it to a young man who's spent several years working around vehicles under difficult conditions. He'll notice if I buy him something that doesn't suit his needs."
"Grandpa, the price is sixty-two grand. We both know you're not buying it."