'I can help with the tracking problem,' Ranger said, handing me a set of keys.
'What's this?'
10
'THIS IS TEMPTATION,' Ranger said, leaning against a new midnight-black Porsche Boxster.
'Could you be more specific about the temptation? Like, what kind of temptation were you thinking about?'
'Temptation to broaden your horizons.'
I had a lot of unease over Ranger's definition of 'broad horizons.' I suspected his horizons were a teensy bit closer to hell than I might want to travel. For starters, there was the car and the slight possibility that it wasn't entirely legitimate.
'Where do you get these cars?' I asked him. 'You seem to have a never-ending supply of new, expensive black cars.'
'I have a source.'
'This Porsche isn't stolen, is it?'
'Do you care?'
'Of course I care!'
'Then it isn't stolen,' Ranger said.
I shook my head. 'It's a really cool car. And I appreciate your offer, but I can't afford a car like this.'
'You don't know the price yet,' Ranger said.
'Is it more than five dollars?'
'The car isn't for sale. It's a company car. You get the car if you continue to work with me. You're ruining my image in that Buick. Everyone who works with me drives black.'
'Well, hell,' I said, 'I wouldn't want to ruin your image.'
Ranger just kept looking at me.
'Is this charity?' I asked him.
'Guess again.'
'I'm not selling my soul, am I?'
'I'm not in the soul-buying business,' Ranger said. 'The car's an investment. Part of the working relationship.'
'So what do I have to do in this working relationship?'
Ranger uncrossed his arms and pushed off from the car. 'Jobs come up. Don't accept any that make you uncomfortable.'
'You aren't doing this just to amuse yourself, are you? To see what I'd be willing to do for an expensive car?'
'That would be somewhere in the middle of the list,' Ranger said. He looked at his watch. 'I have a meeting. Drive the car. Think it over.'
He had his Mercedes parked next to the Porsche. He slid behind the wheel and drove away without looking back.
I almost collapsed on the spot. I put a hand to the Porsche to steady myself, and then immediately yanked my hand away, afraid I'd left prints. Dang!
I ran inside and looked around for Randy Briggs. His laptop was on the coffee table, but his jacket was gone. I toyed with the idea of packing all his things into the two suitcases, moving them into the hall, and locking my door, but gave it up as futile.
I cracked open a beer and called Mary Lou. 'Help!' I said.
'What help?'
'He gave me a car. And he touched me twice!' I looked at my neck in the hall mirror to see if I was branded where his hand had rested.
'Who? What are you talking about?'
'Ranger!'
'Omigod. He gave you a car?'
'He said it was an investment in our working relationship. What does that mean?'
'What kind of car is it?'
'A new Porsche.'
'That's at least oral sex.'
'Be serious!' I said.
'Okay, the truth is . . . it's beyond oral sex. It could be, you know, butt stuff.'
