“Call them.”
Craig’s face changed.
He had expected resistance.
He had not expected permission.
He took out his phone.
“Front showroom. I need security.”
A young guard appeared a minute later.
Twenty-five, maybe twenty-six.
Buzzed hair.
Radio on belt.
He looked first at Craig.
Then Aaron.
“What happened?”
Craig pointed.
“This individual refuses to leave after failing to meet our financial qualification policy.”
The guard looked at Aaron.
“Sir, do you have an appointment?”
“Yes.”
“Name?”
“Aaron Brooks.”
The guard looked toward reception.
The receptionist hesitated.
Then nodded.
“He has a confirmed ten o’clock.”
Craig cut in.
“That isn’t relevant.”
The guard frowned.
“I thought appointments were pre-screened.”
“They are.”
The receptionist said it before she could stop herself.
Craig turned.
“What?”
She swallowed.
“His inquiry lists the G280 and the budget category.”
Aaron saw the guard’s confusion deepen.
Craig held up the laminated sheet.
“New policy.”
The guard looked at it.
“I’ve worked here two years.”
Craig stared.
“I’ve never seen that.”
“It’s new.”
“How new?”
Craig’s voice sharpened.
“Do you want to keep your job?”
Silence.
The guard looked at Aaron.
Then Craig.
“Sir,” he said quietly to Aaron, “would you mind waiting outside while they sort this out?”
Aaron looked at him.
There was no anger in his face now.
Only fatigue.
Not fatigue from the morning.
Older than that.
“I’m sitting in a chair.”
The guard nodded.
“I know.”
“I am not threatening anyone.”
“I know.”
“I’m not blocking business.”
“No.”
“I have a confirmed appointment.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re asking me to leave because he wants me gone.”
The guard looked at the floor.
“That’s what you’re asking?”
The young man said nothing.
Craig snapped:
“Forget it. I’ll handle it.”
The guard left quickly.
Craig walked to the wide entrance leading into the aircraft display area.
He positioned himself in the center.
Feet apart.
Arms crossed.
Human barrier.
Behind him, under carefully placed white lights, sat the G280 Aaron had driven forty-five minutes to inspect.
Aaron took out his phone.
Opened the camera.
Set it on the chair arm.
Pressed record.
Craig did not notice.
Five minutes passed.
Then Craig spoke.
“You know what I think?”
Aaron said nothing.
“I think you came here looking for exactly this.”
Still nothing.
“You can’t afford a bolt on one of these airplanes.”
Aaron watched him.
“And now you’re sitting there hoping you can play the race card.”
Garrett looked toward Craig.
For the first time, discomfort showed on his face.