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"Thirty-five a week," Miller said, leaning against the hood. "Bring it in every Friday. You miss a week, the tow truck finds you. You keep it up, and she’s yours by Christmas."

"She’s got a soul, Elias," a voice rasped. It was Miller, the owner, a man whose skin looked like the leather interior of the they were standing beside. used cars macon ga buy here pay here

Elias ran a hand over the steering wheel. The AC struggled against the Georgia heat, eventually puffing out a breath of cool air that smelled faintly of vanilla air freshener and old maps. He signed the yellow carbon-copy paper, the ink smudging in the damp air. "Thirty-five a week," Miller said, leaning against the hood