Chapter Eighteen
Al
“Hey, Lai.”
“I’m gonna need to borrow some money,” I warned him.
Lai closed his eyes immediately, taking a slow, measured breath through his nose.
I was sure he already knew I’d ask; just days ago, I’d been lamenting the twelve grand I’d paid for Fox, and now we were sitting in a collector-heavy auction, where the kind of cash I could barely even dream of holding would change hands like it was nothing.
There were no scared salesmen here, no shaky dealers trying to offload inventory before the end of the quarter.
No one to intimidate, no one to sweet-talk.
Just collectors with deep pockets, and flippers who smelled profit in every piece of aging steel.
They were already warming up, leaning forward in their seats, scanning the lot sheets, whispering numbers under their breath like gamblers at a high-stakes table.
Here, Fox wasn’t going to be seen as just a tired Fox Body taking up valuable space. Here, he was a classic.
That still felt wrong to me; a 90s car being called a classic felt absurd. The 90s had been, what, ten years ago? Maybe fifteen? My perception of time had clearly gone off the rails somewhere.
Way off.
Because the very first lot– a 1990 Mazda Miata– climbed past fifteen thousand before the hammer dropped, its status as a classic massively influencing the price.
My brows shot up so fast I felt it in my forehead. I turned toward Lai, and he wore the same expression, eyes wide, lips parting slightly as if he’d just been personally offended by the number. How could a cheap Japanese car from the 90s be worth so damn much?
Next, an ’80s Chevrolet Corvette rolled across the block.
Thirty-five thousand.
Lai’s brows somehow climbed even higher, and I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. If this was the baseline, then Fox was going to hurt. And the Challenger…
I pushed that thought aside.
I noticed Lai’s leg start bouncing, the heel of his shoe tapping against the concrete floor in rhythm with the auctioneer’s rapid-fire cadence. It was subtle at first, but I knew him well enough to see the irritation creeping in.
“Sold!”
Another car.
“Sold!”
Another.
“SOLD!”
The pace picked up. Car after car went for numbers that would have made me laugh just a year ago. Now, they made me sweat.
Then, finally, Fox’s lot came up.
“Lot fourteen!” The auctioneer called, voice sharp and energetic. “A Nineteen-Ninety-Two Ford Mustang GT in black. Stock V8 five-speed manual, ladies and gents, two-twenty-five horsepower under its hood, excellent condition!”
Oh, please don’t say that.
I scanned the room and immediately noticed a few men leaning forward, interest sparked. One flipped through his notes. Another adjusted his glasses. A third lifted his paddle slightly, ready.
The auctioneer was merciless. “This is a steal today with bidding starting at ten thousand! Do I have ten? I see ten…”
It climbed to fifteen almost instantly.
Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen.
The pace slowed slightly, bids becoming more cautious. I raised my paddle. “Twenty.” I winced as I offered it; that was Lai’s entire budget, and the number wasn’t quite done climbing yet.
The auctioneer pointed at me, nodding. “Twenty thousand.”
For a brief moment, silence.
Then a voice behind us. “Twenty-one.”
Lai scoffed, raising his paddle. “Twenty-one, five.”
He looked smug and annoyed, expecting that to end it.
Then, the same voice again. “Twenty-two.”
Lai growled as he turned to see the offending bidder.
I followed his glare, spotting an older man smirking at us from beneath a backward baseball cap and a handlebar mustache.
He gave us a look of disgust that wasn’t uncommon in Texas, mouthing an obvious slur at Lai, who was dressed like he was attending an opera and not a police auction.
Lai was a stark contrast among stained shirts and faded caps.
His red suit was tailor-made, with a matching mirror-polished shine on his shoes.
Lai’s expression didn’t change, but I saw the cold settle behind his eyes.
He raised his paddle.
“Twenty-three to the gentleman in red,” the auctioneer called.
The man behind us started to lift his arm again; he didn’t get to complete his bid.
I saw a tiny flicker of silver, no bigger than a pin needle, launched with a small, precise motion from Lai’s hand.
The man slumped slightly, his arm falling limp at his side.
Lai sat perfectly still, watching the front as if nothing had happened.
“Twenty-three going once!”
I held my breath, my pulse hammering.
“Going twice!”
I turned around, glaring at anyone who would dare even to consider placing a bid at this point.
“Sold!”
Relief flooded through me. I elbowed Lai lightly, unable to hide my grin.
He didn’t look happy. Not even close.
“I owe you,” I murmured.
“Yeah, you fucking do,” Lai hissed at me, venomous. “You’re going to pay back every last cent, Al. I’m not gifting you a twenty-three thousand dollar car out of the goodness of my heart.”
I wasn’t going to push back on that. It was way too much money to joke about; almost a quarter of my entire annual salary.
“Holly will pass this year with flying colors,” I swore, reminding him of what was truly important. Twenty-three thousand stung, but knowing his daughter would move on to the next year despite her academic track record would soothe him a little bit.
Lai slowly leaned back, eyes closed, ignoring the enormous grin on my face, so wide it made my cheeks ache.
Fox was coming home.
***
I was worried that Lai might back out of the auction with his budget blown, but no; we sat and waited, watching for the moment when the Dodge Challenger was driven slowly up onto the stage.
Thankfully, by the time his lot came up, Lai had relaxed a little. A few Japanese imports had sold cheaply, and a couple of European cars had slipped under the hammer for well below market value. Lai’s posture eased, and for a moment, I even saw optimism creep into his expression.
That hope was quickly shattered, though, when the opening bid dropped.
Sixty thousand.
Lai’s hand landed on my knee like a triggered bear trap, his nails sinking into my skin. I kept my composure.
“He won’t lose his value,” I promised, lying to Lai’s face. There was a serious risk that the value of the Challenger would plummet the moment Lai got behind the wheel. Hell, by the time he got to the manor, the car might be a complete write-off.
Sixty-five thousand.
Seventy.
I sighed in dismay. There was no way Lai was going to bid now. I didn’t know how I could explain to Fox that the Challenger was just far too expensive for a man who refused to drive, that we couldn’t afford to save his friend.
“We don’t have to stay,” I murmured to Lai under my breath, moving to stand as his grip loosened off my leg. He didn’t follow; instead, he raised his paddle.
“Seventy-five.”
I stared at him in shock.
He looked up at me, an eyebrow raised, and gestured for me to sit back down. All of the distress on his face had vanished.
This was the Lai I had dated, once upon a time. He was driving up the price of the Challenger for the sake of the game. Twenty-three thousand dollars was more money than I owned; we both knew that, and he was going to really rub it in.
“Eighty,” another bidder called. I grabbed Lai’s hand as he raised his paddle in another unnecessary bid.
“I know what you are doing,” I hissed, scowling as he gave me an innocent, wide-eyed smile. “You want a more expensive car than mine? You win, trust me. I’ll admit defeat right here. Now stop driving the price up and wait for the bids to slow!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lai assured me as he raised his hand again. “Eighty-five.”
“Ninety,” the other bidder countered—more than I made in a year.
Lai lifted his paddle, but his eyes were on me the whole time. Just like his wedding day. “Ninety-five.”
“Ninety-five and five,” the competition offered. Lai’s jaw tightened, a flush of excitement on his face.
“One hundred and fifty thousand,” he called, raising his paddle again; the room was filled with murmurs at the huge leap in price, and I sank deeper into my seat, silently praying that no one else would bid. Lai planned to win, money be damned.
No one countered the offer. The auctioneer raised his hammer. “Going once!” He pointed to Lai, and Lai smiled brightly back at him.
“Going twice!”
A hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I couldn’t believe it; Lai had busted my balls over twenty-three like it was his life savings he was loaning me, and now, in the very same auction, he was throwing around cash like it wasn’t worth the paper it was printed on.
He was such an asshole.
“SOLD!”