“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means your mother has sent me three notices in five months, and none survived review.”
“She shouldn't have to keep warning you.”
“About what?”
“Running a business from your house.”
Marcus slowly descended another step.
He remained at least fifteen feet away.
“I do not run the dealership from my house.”
“You bring cars here.”
“Sometimes.”
“That's business.”
“No.”
“Whatever.”
Marcus looked at the scratch again.
The line extended almost six feet.
The paint correction alone would not fix it.
Depending on depth, the door and fender would need refinishing.
The car's value complicated everything.
This was not a production sedan.
Not even an ordinary exotic.
The Lamborghini belonged to Meridian Exotic Motors, the dealership Marcus had founded sixteen years earlier and still majority-owned.
It had arrived from a private collection the previous evening.
One of only a handful in that configuration.
The owner planned to consign it through Marcus's company.
Marcus had brought it home because the dealership photography bay was being resurfaced, and early-morning natural-light photography near his house was sometimes better than the fluorescent warehouse environment.
He was supposed to drive it to Meridian after breakfast.
Now Tyler Whitmore had carved through the paint.
Marcus felt anger.
A lot of it.
But twenty-two years in business had taught him that anger rarely improved documentation.
He took out his phone.
Tyler's smirk deepened.
“Oh, what? You're filming me now?”
Marcus looked at the screen.
“No.”
“Calling my mom?”
“No.”
“Police?”
Marcus said nothing.
His thumb moved across the screen.
The Meridian Security application opened.
A red banner already filled the top.
IMPACT / SURFACE BREACH EVENT DETECTED
Timestamp.
8:13:47.
Vehicle identification.
Camera event automatically uploaded.
Marcus almost sighed.
Tyler noticed.
“What?”
Marcus looked up.
“You really shouldn't have done that.”
Tyler laughed again.
“You gonna cry over a scratch?”
Marcus stepped off the porch.
Tyler's body stiffened.
Marcus stopped near the edge of the driveway.
“Do you know what car that is?”
“Lamborghini.”
“Which one?”
Tyler shrugged.
“A Lamborghini.”
Marcus nodded.
“That answer is going to become expensive.”
Tyler's face hardened.
“You're trying to scare me.”
“No.”
Marcus slipped the phone back into his jacket.
“I am trying to make sure I don't say something unnecessary while I'm angry.”
That caught the teenager off guard.
Tyler looked down at the utility knife.
Then back toward the street.
A girl stood near the sidewalk holding a phone.
Marcus recognized her vaguely.
One of Tyler's school friends.
Brunette.
Maybe sixteen.
She had apparently been filming.
Tyler noticed Marcus looking.
“She didn't record anything.”
The girl lowered the phone immediately.
Marcus stared.
Tyler corrected himself.
“She was just texting.”
Marcus said, “I didn't ask.”
The girl's face changed.
Tyler stepped between Marcus and her.
“Don't talk to her.”
Marcus looked at him.
“You're doing a remarkable job answering questions nobody asked.”
A garage door opened across the street.
Then another.
The sound had attracted attention.
People began emerging.
Marcus disliked that.
Neighborhood crowds rarely improved conflict.
He looked at Tyler.
“Go home.”
The boy laughed.
“You can't tell me what to do.”
Marcus pointed toward the sidewalk.
“You are sixteen, standing in my driveway with a utility knife after intentionally damaging a vehicle.”
Tyler's smile disappeared.
“I didn't intentionally do anything.”
Marcus looked at the six-foot scratch.
Tyler followed his eyes.
“It was an accident.”
Marcus waited.