This was the very first one.  Tex, obviously, is Shawna.  And that is all I’ve got time for tonight, unfortunately.

Carlyle Banks, owner and manager of Carlyle’s Cars, turned on his heel and took another slow walk around the vehicle in question. He had his hands stuffed casually in his suit pockets; he didn’t want to appear overly eager. It was a nice piece of work, though: in mint condition, and clearly a custom job. It hardly looked driven, but if he’d been forced to guess, he’d have said that it would have driven like a dream — a very fast, very posh sort of dream, possibly even the kind involving flashy explosions and flashier women.

Still, though, there was no reason to appear as excited as he felt. The woman stood protectively beside the car, fidgeting nervously with her black arm band. “What do you think?”

Carlyle shrugged carefully. “It… looks good.”

The woman smiled tearfully. “Bill used to wash and wax it every weekend. It was how he started his Saturday.” She pulled a handkerchief out of her purse and dabbed at her eyes. “He loved this car so much… I just…”

“Hey, hey,” Carlyle said soothingly, and put an arm around the woman’s shoulders. “It’s all right. This car will be well cared for.”

The woman nodded, sniffling. “I’m just not sure… it was so dear to him, but ever since…” She blew her nose. “I just… haven’t been able to scrape up enough to pay the bills.”

“It happens to everyone,” Carlyle assured her sagely. “Money gets tight, and we have to sacrifice some things we’d rather not. But don’t worry; after this, you will be back on your feet. I’ll cut a special deal for you.”

“Really?”

“Of course!” Carlyle wandered around the other side of the car. Now was the time to play it cool. “Of course, we’ve been on hard times, too, but I think I can afford to give you a solid, fair price on this vehicle.”

“How much?” the woman asked.

Carlyle rubbed at his chin. “Say… well, it looks new, but it’s not the right market… and if your husband never took it out, the engine is probably… I’d say…” He squinted and counted a bit on his fingers for effect. “Two thousand.”

“Two thousand?” Carlyle jumped; he was used to the widow’s weepy tones, and this was no less than a rough, indignant shriek – and it certainly didn’t sound like a woman. “Are you blind?”

When he regained his composure, the woman was staring at him with her mouth open. “How — how dare you!” she screamed. “My Bill put all his time and care into this car! It’s a very nice car! Excuse me!” With that, she opened the passenger door and got in. She put her head in her hands and leaned on the dashboard. At first Carlyle thought she was merely suffering a stroke of grief, but then he saw that her mouth was moving.

He stood there for a moment, wavering. He could really use a car like this, but how much crazy was he going to have to wade through to get it? With a firm look at the gleaming finish to remind himself of his purpose, he opened the driver door and eased inside. He cleared his throat. “There, there. I assure you that ten thousand is a perfectly reasonable price.”

“No it’s not,” the woman sobbed. “B-bill meant to sell it for… no less than twelve thousand, he told me — he made me promise —”

“That was very kind of him,” Carlyle told her. “He was probably looking out for you. But I promise that no one will give you that price for a car like this.” The engine rumbled strangely underneath him, almost as though it were trying to start. He furrowed his brow at it, while beside him, the woman stomped on the floorboard. “See? It isn’t exactly reliable. I’m sure your husband wouldn’t have wanted you to have money troubles. I am willing to give you what I can.”

The woman raised her tear-streaked face. “No,” she insisted. “I could never — not after all that my dear Bill did! It has to be twelve thousand!”

“But—”

“Listen, Mr. Carlyle,” she said, shaking her finger in his face. “I know that this is a good car. It looks very lovely and it runs well! You could make a load of money off this, I know it.”

Carlyle looked down thoughtfully at the high-quality interior.

“So the least you could do is offer me a decent sum in return,” the woman concluded firmly.

He knew how to read customers. He knew when they were about to break, and more importantly, he knew when he was beaten. “All right,” he allowed, spreading his hands. “All right. Ten thousand?”

The woman glared at him.

He pulled at his collar. “Eleven thousand?”

The woman huffed, dabbing her eyes again. “Get out of the driver’s seat. I’m leaving.”

“Okay, okay!” Carlyle waved her back down into her seat. “Okay… twelve thousand. But not a penny more. Deal?” He offered his hand.

“Cash,” the woman added as she took his hand. He winced, but shook solemnly. After that, the woman was surprisingly sane and stable. He managed to usher her inside without trouble. She signed off on all the paperwork and they were done inside ten minutes.

It was the most memorable deal of the day. This was mostly because whenever he felt even slightly down, he could look up at the beautiful new car sitting outside the window behind him. He took a good long look at it before going home that evening.

It was a little after nine when he got a call from the office. “Jerry, slow down,” he ordered. “What do you — what car? The new car is gone? How could you have…” He stared at the phone in disgust. “Jerry, stop being stupid for a minute. Just tell me what you saw. No — Jerry, the car can’t have just driven itself off the lot!”

…..

The woman heaved a sigh and looked at her watch for the fifth time in twenty minutes. She had traded out her formal mourning clothes for the casual jeans-and-sneakers look. However, that did not help the fact that this was not a very reputable part of town, and her ride was late.

Finally, a car pulled around the near corner, and the woman jumped up impatiently. She scrambled in as soon as the car reached her and hissed, “Go! Go!” After all, a shining red Aston Martin was sure to attract the wrong sort of attention here.

“I’m going; I’m going,” the car replied, but he did not sound concerned in the least.

The woman scowled. “Go faster. Around here someone’s likely to come at you with a crowbar.”

“Not if they want to live,” the car growled, but he did speed up. The woman folded her arms and sat back stiffly against the seat. They rode in silence for a few minutes. “Tex,” the car began eventually. The woman slouched lower into the seat, eyes narrowing, but did not reply. “Tex,” the car repeated, a note of exasperation working its way in. “Are you mad at me?”

Tex raised her eyebrows and pressed her lips together. “Why would I be angry? Is it maybe because you decided to talk to the salesman?”

“Two thousand dollars!” the car protested. “He offered two thousand dollars! And you weren’t much better! Did you just sell me for twelve thousand?”

“Twelve thousand cash,” Tex emphasized, “and that’s not even the point. It makes it really hard to sell people a car when they suspect it’s not a car.”

“They wouldn’t,” the car drawled. “Humans are too dense.”

“Not that dense.”

“Probably that dense,” the car insisted.

“Knockout,” Tex warned. “This only works if we both cooperate, right?”

“I suppose,” Knockout said noncommittally.

“Then stop being stupid and cooperate. I like this plan. It’s a great plan — brilliant, even.”

“You only say that because you came up with it.”

“So?” Tex leaned forward and tapped lightly on the dash. “I’m good with that. I have twelve thousand dollars just sitting in my pocket. Half of it is getting spent on you, anyway. You should be on board with this, too. Are you?”

“Certainly,” Knockout replied silkily.

Tex grinned and sat back again, resting her hands behind her head. She watched the streetlights pass overhead for a while, blinking heavily.

“Where to, cowboy?” Knockout asked after some time.

Tex stifled a yawn. “North. Charisburg. There’s a really high-end place out there. I think I can pull it off. You can be an unwanted inheritance.” She made a face. “No talking this time.”

“Only if you don’t stomp on me this time,” Knockout shot back, a bit petulantly. “What if they do damage?”

Tex snorted; she knew what he meant by damage. “If they mess with your finish, you can do whatever you want to them. Squish ‘em for all I care.”

“It’s a pleasure working with you,” Knockout purred. He revved his engines, and they sped off, ready to take on the poor, unsuspecting planet.