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[2021-04-25 | Amian Cars Exclusive Cars, Leverkusen | 12:20 CET]
Leaving Wirtz and Aaliyah to deal with Ben, who proceeded to take them around the showroom, Rakim followed May to another side. It seed to be the sports car section, hosting various famous car brands proudly displayed. "So you got an idea of what you want?" He asked as they walked past a red 911 that looked like a beast next to a silver green AMG.
"Hmm, I don't know, I kind of miss my jeep back in Florida," She mummbled, glancing at an S-class clearly interested. "But does it even make sense to get a car now when we might move at the end of the sumr. It would be a hassle to move it, and god forbid you play in England, and we have to pay to move the steering wheel to the right."
Smiling at her actions of whispering his possible move, he pulled her toward the yellow Urus. "You know, we make good money, and just multiplying it through investnts won't do us any good." He opened the driver's door and helped her inside. "We live in the only place in the only country in the world where you can floor the accelerator on the highway without cost."
"Oh yeah?" She responded, sending him a side eye as she rested her hands around the steering wheel, taking in the sleek cockpit-like dashboard. The view was definitely different from Rakim's sián, which was much tighter and hugged your body through curves, accelerating with violent force. "When was the last ti you wen't over 100mph anywhere? Though you're right, it might be ti for to be a car owner again."
Her hand brushed along the steering wheel, feeling the fine leather. She shifted in the driver's seat, testing the feel, then checked the mirrors. "This feels... powerful. Very different from your i8."
"Wow, wow, wow, Barb's has feelings, plus she is an elegant beauty with a lot of character." He retired, acting genuinely hurt, but May barely glanced his way before exiting the vehicle. "Still, the Urus is an SUV that wants to be a supercar badly."
"Well, we can't all own a limited edition sián fkp 37." She retorted, walking to the next car. "Plus, it goes from zero to sixty in three-point-six seconds, a twin-turbo V8, and six hundred and fifty majestic horsepower. You could take this thing off-road or to a track day."
"Did you steal Simba's car magazine or sothing?" Rakim asked quickly, following her, looking at her as if she had grown a second head.
"Maybe who knows?" She comnted with a sly smile. "A girl has to have one or two tricks up her sleeve to survive, you know."
"Tsk, where do you think we live? Gothom?" He questioned her, bursting her smug bubble. "We grew up in Rose Ilse Orlanda, and you have the biggest villa on the block. TSK mhh mmhhh mmhhh,"
~~~
[anwhile — Across the Showroom]
Bennet walked Florian and Aaliyah toward the more practical side of the dealership, where luxury sedans and SUVs were displayed. He'd recovered from his earlier blunder—the first-kiss taphor had been mortifying—but Florian had laughed it off, which helped.
"So," Bennet said, gesturing toward a row of cars, "since this is your first car, ahem, I'd recomnd sothing reliable but still fun. You turn 18 in a few days, and you're an athlete, so insurance will already be high. A full supercar might not be the most practical choice right now."
"That makes sense," Florian said, nodding. He adjusted his crutches, leaning against Aaliyah slightly for balance. "I don't need anything crazy. Just sothing that gets from A to B and doesn't look embarrassing. The guys won't let live it down if I show up with sothing weird, especially that guy."
They glanced over the vast showroom where Rakim seed to have said sothing that made May laugh in front of a silver McLaren. "Define 'embarrassing,'" Aaliyah said with a teasing smile. "Because your taste in shoes is already questionable."
"My shoes are fine," Florian protested. "You're the one who bought those neon green Crocs, rember."
"They're comfortable," Aaliyah shot back. "And I'm a model, no matter how bizarre I dress, they will call it fashion. Just look at Lady Gaga or Kanye West; no one understands it, but they still call it couture or high fashion. You, on the other hand, they will plaster you in the tabloids."
Bennet cleared his throat, suppressing a smile. "Right then, how about the BMW M5? It's popular with younger buyers and one of the more affordable models at AC for a first vehicle."
"That's cool, but I was thinking of sothing more like that over there," he said, pointing to a blacked-out rcedes. "I think I want a rcedes."
Bennet followed Florian's gaze to the blacked-out rcedes-AMG GT 63 S, proudly displayed under a spotlight. The car was sleek, aggressive, and definitely not what he'd call a "practical first car." But he also wasn't about to talk a custor out of a sale—especially not one of this calibre.
"The AMG GT 63 S," Bennet said, walking toward it with his hands clasped professionally behind his back. "Four-litre twin-turbo V8, six hundred and thirty horsepower, zero to sixty in three-point-one seconds. It's a beast."
"Three-point-one?" Florian repeated, his eyes lighting up despite trying to play it cool. "That's faster than Rakim's i8."
"By a lot," Bennet confird, opening the driver's side door. "The i8 is hybrid efficiency with style. This? This is pure performance. Though I should ntion—insurance for soone your age on this model will be... significant."
"How significant?" Aaliyah asked, crossing her arms, probably thinking of plans to talk him out of it.
"Probably starting around fifty thousand euros annually," Bennet admitted. "Maybe more, if you add all the other insurance that they will want to put on your legs and that too only with a speciality broker."
Florian's eyes dilated for only a mont until he rembered his weekly wage of $73,000. "I could manage it if I put my mind to it." He responded, already thinking of ways to soften the blow to his parents when he would inevitably pull into their driveway. As a big family, they had a lot of cars, but not to the point that a $160,000 car would go unnoticed.
Bennet nodded in agreent, guessing the wage a player of his calibre earned. "But if budget isn't a concern, it's an incredible machine. Want to sit in it?" Florian didn't need to be asked twice; he handed his crutches to Aaliyah, then carefully lowered himself into the driver's seat. His face imdiately lit up the mont he firmly sat in the leather chair, gripping the red steering wheel.
"Okay," he said, feeling the material of the steering wheel. "This is nice."
"Nice?" Aaliyah leaned down, peering into the cabin. "Florian, this is ridiculous. Are you sure you want to do this?"
"I'll be eighteen in two weeks," Florian countered. "And I'm not planning to go two hundred miles per hour. Plus, I've been wanting to get one of these for two years since my debut beca a reality."
"This looks like a Batmobile," Aaliyah said flatly. "You're going to get pulled over constantly."
"Only if they catch ," Florian said with a grin, but quickly corrected his words at the intensifying glare. "Which they will, since I won't speed."
Bennet wisely stayed silent, letting the couple hash it out. This was a dynamic he'd seen before—one person wanted the flashy car, the other was the voice of reason. Usually, it was the person who wasn't paying who wanted the flashy car, but in this case, Wirtz was a walking money machine. In cases like this, the one with decision-making power usually won out, and all he had to do was wait for the natural conclusion to unfold.
"What about the M5 I showed you?" Bennet offered to stroke his ego to instigate him to purchase. "It's still fast, still luxury, and the insurance would be half the cost."
Florian remained silent for a second, looking at the star, his gaze naturally locking onto the blue M5, a beast in its own right. He seed to be fighting a ntal battle, the only sign of life being the slightly tightening grip and blinking eyes. "No, it has to be this one. I don't think I'll be able to forget it if I don't buy it."
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To Be Continued...
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