Thirty-Nine Million Dollars and a Brown Folder on the Kitchen Table
He stopped typing.
“We only have a standard sedan or a premium SUV available right now.”
“The basic sedan is fine.”
“The SUV is only twelve dollars more a day,” he said.
“It has heated seats.”
“Just the sedan.”
He asked for my license and a credit card, and I handed them over.
He typed my information into his system and printed a contract on thin yellow paper.
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