Read Online Damaged Goods by Heather Sharfeddin - Free Book Online Page B

her lip and staring at the floor.
    “Boss, it’s Carl,” he said. “We have a situation down here. That green Rabbit we sold last night—”
    The receiver was loud enough for Hershel’s disembodied voice to carry into the office. “I didn’t sell that Rabbit. It belongs to Sophie.”
    “Silvie.”
    “Yeah, yeah. Silvie.”
    “Uh … actually, we did sell it.” Carl waited for Hershel’s response, going back through the sequence of events and realizing it was his own mistake—he’d put the Rabbit up as Hershel struggled to get his bearings. “Boss?”
    “Shit.”
    “I’ll look up the buyer,” Carl said. “You maybe wanna come down here and let Silvie know that we’re gonna get her car back. She’s pretty upset.”
    “Fuck!” Hershel said.
    “Boss?”
    “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Get the buyer’s name and phone number for me.” Hershel hung up before Carl could respond.
    “He’s on his way,” Carl said to Silvie. “He’ll get this straightened out. Don’t you worry.”
    She lurched forward out of her chair. “Oh God, please get my car back. You have no idea how important this is.”
    To Carl, that seemed like the truest statement ever spoken.

    Silvie shivered as she waited in Hershel’s office. She rocked out of nervousness, telling herself the car would be returned. She pictured strangers digging through her things, finding the box and spreading its contents across the hood. There was no way to know what they would do with their find. They could keep the car, she didn’t care, but the box … She closed her eyes, tears slipping through the lids and blazing down her cheeks. “Oh God, please,” she repeated.
    Hershel came into the office, flinging the door so wide it banged against the wall. “How did this happen?” he asked Carl, who followed close on his heels.
    “I … well, you were …” Carl’s voice trailed off as he regrouped. “It was my fault. You seemed a little off after selling the Charger. I put the Rabbit up to keep the sale moving. It was in the lot. I assumed—” He handed Hershel a piece of paper. “Kyrellis. Here’s his number.”
    “Kyrellis what?” Hershel glared at Carl.
    “Kyrellis bought the car.” Carl blinked several times, but kept his gaze on Hershel. “Bought the Charger, too.”
    Hershel took the note. He stared down at the number as if confused. Finally he glanced up. “Are you sure?”
    Carl nodded.
    Hershel turned to Silvie with an apologetic expression. “I’m really sorry about this,” he said. “We’ll get it back.”
    “Oh God, you have to,” she said. “You have to.”
    “If we can’t get it back, I’ll pay you for it. I’m—”
    “No! You don’t understand. I need to get it back. You
have
to get it back.”
    Hershel eyed her, then picked up the phone and dialed the number. After what seemed ages, he spoke to leave a message. “Kyrellis, this is Swift. There seems to have been a mistake last night. My floor man—” He turned to Carl, who stared down at his worn leather boots. “My floor man put up a car that wasn’t for sale. The little green Rabbit you bought … we need it back. It belongs to someone else. Wasn’t for sale. Call my cell so we can arrange to come get it.”
    She stared at him through tears, his image a dancing blur. He handed her a neatly folded handkerchief from his jeans pocket. It smelled faintly of bleach, and she held it against her face a long time, letting it soak up her tears.
    Carl disappeared out the door.
    “I’m sorry about this,” Hershel said again. “Why don’t you let me buy you breakfast? There’s nothing we can do but wait for him to call back, anyway.”
    She opened her mouth in protest, but he put a hand up to stop her.
    Something about his gesture reminded her of Jacob. The car had been a gift he never let her forget, as if accepting it had somehow enslaved her for life.
    “You can’t buy me like that,” she snapped.
    “Buy you?” Hershel looked