Chapter 32: Wheels and Burgers
The car dealership gleamed with polished chrome and glass. The moment Tommy stepped inside, dressed in his sharp suit, the saleslady lit up and immediately began recommending luxury brands—Ferrari, Porsche, Lamborghini.
Tommy glanced at each one, then dismissed them with barely a word. Flashy cars were for men trying to prove something. Right now, he needed to stay low-key.
Turning to Kimberly, he asked, "Kim, what do you think would suit me?"
She blinked, caught off guard. Why ask me? But after a pause, she answered carefully, "A Toyota Prius. Stylish but not flashy, fuel-efficient, practical. Plenty of space inside, but it won't turn heads on the street."
Tommy smirked. "Smart choice. Then we'll take the black Prius."
As he looked at the display model, a strange thought flickered in his mind—an image of a talking dog in a tuxedo, holding a martini with an olive, standing beside the car.
What the hell was that? He shook the thought away.
Without hesitation, Tommy pulled out his bank card and paid the full price. When the saleslady handed him the keys, he tossed them casually to Kimberly.
Her eyes widened. "Is this… for me?"
"Of course. You've ever seen a boss drive himself? You're my assistant, Kim. That means you drive." He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice with a hint of humor. "Besides, I don't even have a license."
Kimberly almost laughed, then bit it back. His logic was ironclad—she had no argument.
She slid behind the wheel, fingers brushing over the pristine interior. Compared to her old beat-up 1998 Suzuki—half-dead, prone to stalling mid-drive, bought for five hundred dollars from a dusty lot—this Prius felt like heaven.
A genuine smile spread across her face. For once, things felt like they were turning her way.
"Boss, where to?" she asked, more formal now, falling naturally into the role.
"Drive me around. I want to see New York's fast-food scene."
"Yes, Boss."
The afternoon blurred into a tour of greasy counters, golden arches, and bustling franchises. Chick-fil-A. McDonald's. Wendy's. Burger King. They tried them all.
Tommy ate in silence, sharp eyes scanning every detail—the seasoning, the service, the packaging, the crowd. Kimberly noticed the way he studied everything like a general scouting enemy lines.
Yet no matter how big the chain, no burger came close to his. The delicious crab burger still reigned supreme.
Kimberly felt a quiet thrill. She wasn't just someone fetching coffee anymore—she was part of something that could explode into an empire.
By the time they stepped out of the last restaurant, night had fallen, the sky a deep violet haze above the city lights. Kimberly looked up, surprised. "Already evening?"
Tommy lit a cigar, smoke curling upward. "Yeah. What's next?"
She hesitated. Going home this early would be awkward. "We could… go somewhere else."
Tommy gave a knowing smile. "When we drove past earlier, I saw a bar. How about we stop in? A proper welcome to New York nightlife."
"Sounds good," Kimberly agreed, excitement in her voice.
She swung the Prius back around, parking outside a neon-lit club. The sign above glowed in bold fluorescent letters:
Malibu Club.
Tommy repeated the name under his breath, his eyes narrowing with meaning. "Malibu Club…"
The corner of his mouth curved in a small, dangerous smile.
END of the chapter
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