Luis Mendoza had worked at Sterling Crown for seventeen years.
Started washing cars.
Moved into paint correction.
Then delivery prep.
Now detailing manager.
Simone found him behind the building inspecting ceramic coating beneath fluorescent lights.
He was fifty-one, quiet, careful.
He recognized her immediately.
“Ms. Carter.”
“Simone.”
He smiled faintly.
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
She watched technician polishing a black coupe.
“Good lighting.”
Luis looked surprised.
“You know detailing?”
“A little.”
He glanced toward her white sedan visible through glass.
Then smiled.
“You folded towel correctly.”
Simone laughed.
“My father would appreciate that.”
Luis’s expression softened.
“You came to ask about sales.”
“Yes.”
“Thought so.”
He removed gloves.
“Walk?”
They moved along service corridor.
Luis spoke without drama.
That made every sentence heavier.
“Customers sometimes come back angry.”
“Why?”
“Products.”
“Price.”
“Things they say they didn't agree.”
“What do you do?”
“Send finance.”
“And?”
“Some leave angry.”
“Some yell.”
“Security called twice.”
“Black customers more often?”
Luis looked at her.
“You already know.”
“I have numbers.”
“I want observation.”
He nodded.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because certain managers think some customers won't fight.”
Simone stopped.
“Which managers?”