Page 69 of Grizz

He lowers his six-foot-four frame halfway into the seat and gets stuck—one knee jammed too high, the steering wheel uncomfortably close to his chest.The car emits an annoyed electronic beep.

Tanner exhales.“Why is it so… tight?”

I cross my arms.“Because you’re built like a fridge.”

“That’s not my fault,” he snaps.“That’s genetics and pasta.”

He tries to adjust the seat, wiggles his body.It beeps again.“I don’t like the tone of this car,” he mutters.

Tanner attempts to extricate himself and bangs his head on the doorframe.

“You don’t fit, genius,” I say blandly.

He straightens, offended.“I fitemotionally.Therein lies the difference.”

A salesman finally approaches, polished and hopeful, eyes darting between us.He looks at me, pauses, then does a double take.

“Grizz McAvoy?”

I nod and his smile brightens instantly.“Huge fan.Incredible season so far.”

Tanner steps closer.“He’s also an incredible friend.Loyal.Supportive.Willing to cosign on a loan.”

The salesman’s eyes go wider, taking Tanner in.“Wow… I’m a huge fan of yours too, Tanner.”

“I will absolutely not cosign,” I cut in, to make sure that’s on the record.

The salesman laughs politely.“What brings you star Vipers in today?”

Tanner gestures at the Ferrari.“Destiny, but alas, it’s not a good fit.”

“I’m sure we have a fit for your…” The salesman pauses, gestures to Tanner’s frame.“Dimensions.”

We move on mostly because Tanner physically cannot get back into that car without assistance—and stop in front of a matte black Lamborghini.

Tanner’s entire demeanor changes.He circles it slowly, running a hand along the hood.

“This,” he says quietly, “would change my life.”

“It would ruin it,” I reply.“Financially.”

He ignores me and turns to the salesman.“What’s the damage?”

The salesman’s eyes shine with the promise of an easy commission.“Sir… that is the brand-new Temerario.Mid-engine, all-wheel drive, twin-turbo V8 with a three-motor hybrid system.Just over nine hundred horsepower, zero to sixty in under two and a half seconds.Redlines close to ten thousand.It’s the fastest thing Lamborghini’s ever put in this class.Base price starts at three fifty before customization.”

Tanner blinks.

“Jesus fuck,” I mutter.

“Okay,” he says slowly.“That’s… more than I thought.”

I snort.“You think?”

“But,” Tanner continues, rallying, “money is fake.And happiness is priceless.”

The salesman senses he’s going to lose the sale and looks at me for help.

“He’s emotionally attached,” I say flatly.“But even big emotions have price tag limitations.”