Salvation (Kakashi x OC) (Standalone)

7.2

My calm didn't have the chance to last very long.

Roger and I stood, both smiling fake smiles, under the trunk flap of a nine-year-old, dark-green Subaru.

"Of course, the vehicle has a spare tire," Roger said, his eyes closed nearly shut from the grin spread all across his cheeks. "Why even ask such a thing, Miss Abrams?"

My eyes mirrored his, all narrowed up in the fakest of smiles. "I once purchased a vehicle that didn't come with a spare tire and felt the pain of being stranded with a flat and no replacement. I need to make sure the car I buy has all the basic amenities. I didn't mean any offense, Mr. Benten."

"Yes, but," he steepled his hands, bringing the triangle point up and down to emphasize each beat of his syllables, "I'm not that dealer. I wouldn't sell a car without a spare tire in its compartment."

I stepped further under the flap, laying a hand on the rough, fuzzy carpeting within. "Then, it shouldn't matter if I look, just to make sure, right? Just for my own assurances, sir."

I almost felt bad when I undid the clasp, lifting the lid of the compartment, seeing immediately that no such tire was present. My lips twisted down, and I felt a shake of fear for having to call out a man after such a hassle had been made over nothing.

By Mr. Benten's reaction, there was no way he hadn't known.

"Can we look at a different vehicle, please?" I asked, instead, my eyes lowering of their own accord. I didn't want to make this into some long, awkward thing. Moving on seemed best for now.

"Hey, hey," Mr. Benten spread his arms wide. "I didn't know there wasn't a tire in there. I was assured by my guys that it was all up to snuff. Young lady, don't just avoid the issue. You think I'm lying to you, don't you?"

Of course, sir.

I shook my head, rapid enough to feel my chin-length hair ricochet and hit against my cheeks. "No, sir. I just don't want a car without a spare tire, so I'd like to see a different one. Things happen, I understand."

"So you think by coming to a used-car dealership that you're gonna be skeeved of your money?" Mr. Benten seethed, his face turning dourly red.

I backed up, out from under the shadow of the dark-green hood. "N-No, sir, I—I d-didn't say tha—"

"You listen here, young lady." Mr. Benten stepped in close enough for me to smell the overpowering stench of the cigarette smoke that emanated from his entire body—from his hair, his clothes, his breath, everything. "Even though you're a paying customer, I can't let this insult slide. I built my entire life right here. What do you think a child like you can comprehend about what it takes to make a business?"

I retreated even more, one of my hands clenching my worn purse strap, the other laying uselessly against my chest like a furled leaf awaiting the sun's light so it could unravel.

"Sir, I think I'm going to leave now," I said, striving for calm as I worked out how to get around him to get back to the parking lot on the other side. "I think we've had too many misunderstand—"

"Now you're just going to leave, huh?" Mr. Benten loomed ever nearer, his teeth gnashing openly. "Is that all you young people know how to do? To walk away from having a proper conversation? Just because you're in the wrong, and you don't know how to apologize?"

My mind performed something like mental gymnastics as I tried to connect how the situation had gotten here from my initial question of, "Does it have a spare tire already inside it?"

"Gracie?"

My heart stopped, no, shuddered violently at the sound of that dark voice.

With horror gripping my gut, I looked over Mr. Benten's bulky shoulder to the shinobi standing as still as a leafless tree during winter.