Frank folded his hands loosely in front of him. "You keep telling me what you think I can afford. You haven't asked how I'll use it, or even my name."
"Because I don't need your life story to sell a truck."
"Then perhaps you should learn the difference between selling and serving."
Chad looked over his shoulder at Dean, grinning. "Listen to him. We've got a professor in the showroom."
Frank did not smile. His eyes moved from Chad to Dean, then toward Kayla, whose expression had grown anxious. The old man understood that what happened next would not hurt only him. People like Chad often needed an audience for their cruelty, and once they had one, they punished anyone who refused to participate.
"You're welcome to show me the vehicle," Frank said. "Or I can find someone else."
"Sure," Chad replied. "Let's give everybody the full tour."
He raised his voice toward the nearby salespeople. "Hey, everybody. Grandpa here is shopping for a sixty-two-thousand-dollar truck. Someone tell him whether we accept bus coupons."
A few people laughed, partly from surprise and partly because Chad was expected to become their manager by the end of the afternoon. A young salesman named Tyler smiled uneasily and then looked at his shoes. Another employee glanced toward Dean, waiting for the correction that never came. Dean leaned against a desk and grinned as if he were watching a harmless office prank.
Kayla stepped forward. "Chad, stop. He's a customer."
"Nobody asked you."
Frank remained in front of the red pickup, close enough to see his own lined face reflected in the paint. He thought of Ben's voice on the telephone and the excitement the young man had tried to hide when talking about coming home. He thought of that first red truck forty years earlier and the plumber who had paid for it month by month. The man Chad mocked was the man who had made it possible for Chad to stand in that showroom at all.
"Keep filming, son," Frank said when Chad pulled out his phone. "Tomorrow you may want to watch that video again."
"Oh, I'll be watching it tonight," Chad replied. "The whole sales team will."
He pointed the camera toward Frank and announced that a man in a jacket older than the building had decided to purchase the most expensive pickup on the floor. He swept the lens toward the polished ceiling, the display lights, and the truck before returning it to Frank's face. Frank did not consent to being turned into a joke, but neither did he shout or lunge for the phone. He looked directly at Chad and repeated the question that Chad kept avoiding.
"May I see the truck?"
"You can look at it from there. People who pay sixty grand don't want to stand next to men like you."
Kayla felt something shift inside her. She had heard insults at work before and swallowed them because the alternative frightened her. But this one was so unnecessary, so openly enjoyed, that she could not make herself stay quiet. "That's enough," she said, louder than she intended. "He has every right to ask."