Victor scurried over and recounted the whole thing from his own slanted point of view.
When he finished, he tacked on, "Manager Lawrence, this kept woman of yours has gotten way too full of herself. She wrecked the showroom door on purpose and won't pay for it."
"She also said you'd definitely cover for her. Said if you wouldn't take her side, she'd tell your wife everything about the two of you!"
"The way I see it, you've got plenty of kept women, plenty of girls lining up to be with you. No reason to keep a liability like her hanging around!"
Beside him, Melanie nodded along, eager to back up every word.
"Exactly! Manager Lawrence, a woman this entitled is nothing but trouble. She'll bring disaster down on you!"
Manager Lawrence furrowed his brow and dragged his gaze over me, up and down.
"Who's this? Don't know her. She's not one of mine."
Victor and Melanie's faces froze the instant they realized they'd pegged the wrong person.
Victor said, baffled, "Then who is she? That bag she's holding is the same one you gave one of your kept women!"
"Didn't you say one of them was coming in today? I just figured—"
Manager Lawrence ignored the topic entirely and asked instead.
"Quit asking pointless questions. Didn't I tell you to roll out the red carpet for the VIP coming to pick up the Maserati today? Where is she?"
"When the VIP's happy, it's good for all of us! You're out here squabbling over some petty nonsense. What if you scare the VIP off? Can you afford to eat that loss?"
Victor lowered his head and didn't dare say a word.
Melanie offered an ingratiating smile. "It won't happen, Manager Lawrence. The VIP hasn't shown up yet."
"We'll get this place cleaned up right away and go welcome her."
Seeing there was no more drama to watch, the bystanders dispersed.
Manager Lawrence was their boss. I figured he'd be the one to clear up this misunderstanding.
That he'd make the two people who'd framed me on purpose apologize.
Just as he turned, hands clasped behind his back, to head back to his office.
I called out to stop him. "Manager Lawrence, I'm here to pick up the limited-edition Maserati I reserved two weeks ago. But before I take the car, there's something I need to say."
"Not long after I walked in today, these two salespeople of yours spread lies about me and physically attacked me. The security footage proves it. I want an apology and compensation from them!"
At my words, Victor's and Melanie's faces turned uglier still.
Manager Lawrence stopped walking and shot me a sidelong glance.
"Here to pick up the limited-edition Maserati? You're Mr. Henson's sister?"
I nodded.
I assumed that once he knew who I was, he'd surely speak up for me.
Instead, he said, "You wreck our showroom door, dress yourself up as one of my kept women, and now you're playing Mr. Henson's own little sister?"
"No offense, but you walk into a place like this and can't even cover the cost of the door? What's the point of all this pretending, picking one identity after another?"
"Nothing on you's worth a dime except that bag, and for all I know it's a knockoff. Someone who looks like you, affording a Maserati? Ha! Don't make people laugh themselves silly!"
Hearing all this, I frowned in confusion.
Me, pretending? Since when?
I hadn't pretended to be anyone from the very start.
There wasn't a single cheap item on me. Every piece was custom-made by private labels, the kind that simply never hit the open market.
I'd assumed that, as the manager, he'd be a reasonable man.
It turned out he was just as quick to judge people by their looks, two of a kind with those other two.
Manager Lawrence sneered, raking a contemptuous gaze over me from head to toe.
"I've been wanting to say this for a while. Flat in front, flat in back, that pathetic. I'd never take a piece of merchandise like that as one of my kept women."
"Victor, next time you go calling someone my kept woman, remember my taste. I like them curvy front and back. This kind of low quality just won't do."
