“Tyler!”

Brent was marching across the marble floor.

“What are you doing? The Model 7s on the front lot need washing. Now.”

“I was just showing this gentleman the eCargo, Brent. He's interested in—”

“He's not a real customer,” said Brent. Loudly. “He's a delivery guy who wandered in to cool off. Go and wash the cars.”

Tyler looked at me. He looked embarrassed. Not for himself. For me.

“I'm sorry, sir,” he said quietly. Then he picked up his bucket and walked out into the heat.

I finished my water. I put the empty bottle in the recycling bin. Then I walked to the door. As I reached it, I heard Brent say to Courtney, not even trying to whisper:

“Not our kind of customer.”

Courtney giggled.

The gray-haired security guard held the door open for me. He shook his head slightly. Like he was apologizing for them.

“Have a good day, sir,” he said. His name badge said Ray.

“You too, Ray,” I said.

I walked out into the hundred-and-eight-degree parking lot.

On the front lot, Tyler was washing a silver sedan in the full sun. He waved at me as I drove past in my dusty pickup.

I waved back.