Until It's You by C.B. Salem

it.”
    Mark gave Landon a big clap on the back. “Perfect. I’ll have you out of here in a flash.”
    Landon found himself sitting in the cramped office of the auto dealer a few minutes later while Mark the salesman punched some numbers into an old-fashioned standalone calculator and filled out a worksheet by hand.
    It was a dour office. Bare beige walls with black vertical blinds on either side of the windows, ready to be drawn. A ceiling that felt a foot too short. Not so much that he had to crouch, but enough that the gap between the doorframe and the bland ceiling tile looked awkwardly tight. The light was an off-white that had probably been sold as offering more intimacy than the sterility of truly white light, but truth be told it made the place look dirty.
    Maybe it was dirty. In any case, Landon wanted to get out of there. It was, more than anything, the space of someone who didn't give a shit. He hated that.
    Mark looked up from his desk. “You gonna need insurance?” he asked.
    Landon shook his head. “I’ll take care of it separately.”
    “We offer great rates—”
    “I'll take care of it separately.”
    Silence, then Mark gave a short nod and tapped his pen a few times. “How you paying?”
    “Cash.”
    Another hesitation, then Mark leaned forward over his desk. “Listen, I’ll knock a grand off the price tag if you do your insurance through us.”
    Landon leaned back, very conscious of the envelope of cash in his pocket. “What do I owe you?”
    Mark watched him carefully. “It’s gonna be twenty-seven k. When you coming with the money?”
    Landon’s hesitated, then reached for his pocket. “Now. That a problem?”
    Mark the Salesman sat back in his chair, his lips slightly apart. The seconds ticked away beat by beat of Landon’s heart. Something was off.
    “Now’s fine,” Mark said slowly. “Just a little strange.”
    “How’s that?”
    “Lot of money to carry. Especially on your own.”
    Landon put his hands out. “Obviously I came to buy.”
    “I noticed that. You never even asked the price before you decided. I could have told you anything.”
    “And I could have walked out and wasted your time." Landon leaned forward. "Are we really doing this?”
    Mark put the pen in his mouth for a moment, like it was a cigarette. “What do you have on you, thirty k? Fifty?”
    Landon kept his fists from clenching, but he could feel his heart jump. Was this about to be a fight? “None of your business,” he said steadily.
    Mark licked his lips, a predatory gleam in his eye. “You running, friend?”
    A pinch came up in Landon’s throat, and his heart started beating harder. How would this guy know? Wasn't the whole point of a place like this not to ask that kind of question? “No,” he said, his voice steady. “I’m buying a car. Unless there’s some kind of problem.”
    “No problem.” Mark shuffled the papers on his desk. “It’s just that you look like a guy in trouble that ain’t used to being in trouble.”
    “Is that right?”
    Mark nodded, and motioned to Landon's pocket. “And you have a lot of cash on you.”
    Landon paused, and anger boiled up inside him. “That’s true,” he said slowly. Now his fists clenched. “Are you threatening me?”
    The door opened to their left. Landon saw Mark's eyes open wide before he turned his attention to the small room's entrance. 
    He stood up instinctively, fists still in tight balls. Was this some kind of muscle for a shakedown? But why would Mark be startled?
    A thickly built man stood in the door frame, then stepped in. The door shut behind him.
    The man wore a black jacket with a white cotton button down shirt that had two buttons undone. He'd paired it with a pair of loose brown slacks. His dark hair was buzzed short, and he kept a well-trimmed goatee that had just started to gray. He folded some sunglasses down as he entered.
    If he wasn't here for muscle, he looked like he could be drafted into the job pretty easily. No