This was the voice of a man who had already made every decision and was now simply giving instructions. I just came from one of our new acquisitions, Hargrove Family Motors, Charlotte, off Route 51. Silence on the other end. The general manager is a woman named Brenda Hargrove. Pull everything on her.
Full personnel file. HR complaints, disciplinary history, employee turnover going back three years. Every name, every exit, every reason. The faint sound of typing. Next, call Tom Fielding at Atlantic Auto Holdings.
His personal line, Marcus, not his assistant. Tell him I need the security footage from this location pulled and preserved. All cameras, front lot, entrance, every angle, last two hours. Nothing gets deleted. Nothing gets taped over.
Make sure he understands. Oliver glanced at the rear-view mirror. The dealership sat behind him, small and bright. A salesman was walking a white couple toward a truck. The flags were still snapping.
Everything looked normal. It wouldn't for much longer. Last thing, full civil rights compliance review, independent third-party hiring records, terminations, internal complaints, complete audit on my desk by Wednesday. A pause. Thank you, Marcus.
He hung up. His phone buzzed almost immediately. A text from Desiree. How's the dealership visit going? Everything okay?
He typed back, "Interesting morning. Tell you tonight. Love you. " He started the engine and pulled away. In the mirror, Hargrove Family Motors shrank behind a row of trees until it disappeared.
He didn't look back. Back inside the dealership, Brenda Hargrove was riding high. She pushed through the glass doors and marched across the polished marble floor like a general returning from battle. Her heels cracked in a sharp, proud rhythm. Chin up, shoulders back, smile wide.
"Problem solved, " she announced. Two salesmen looked up from their screens. "You're welcome, " she added with a wink. She poured herself a fresh coffee, cream, no sugar, and leaned against the counter. A young white salesman named Greg drifted over, curious but cautious.
So, uh, what was that outside with the guy in the hoodie? Brenda waved her hand like she was swatting a gnat. Same thing every weekend, Greg. They wander in off the street, no money, no intention to buy, sit in the cars, touch the leather, take pictures for social media, and walk off without spending a cent. She set her coffee down.
You've got to stop it before it starts. That's the difference between a manager and a salesman. A salesman waits. A manager acts. Greg shifted his weight.
Right. I just It seemed kind of kind of what? Brenda's voice sharpened just enough to close the door. Greg swallowed. Nothing.