Arthur nodded. "If you buy three of the same set. Includes balancing."
Arthur looked at the stack of brand-new radials in the corner. He looked at the ledger on Al's desk. Al was a stickler for the bottom line, but Al wasn't here.
Arthur stood in the bay, wiping grease from his palms onto a rag that had seen better decades. He wasn’t a salesman; he was a mechanic who preferred the honest silence of an engine to the chatter of a customer. But Al was out with the flu, and the shop was quiet. Too quiet. tyre deals buy 3 get 1 free
He worked fast, the pneumatic wrench echoing in the empty garage. Zip-zip-zip. Four fresh tires, deep treads, smelling of rich, new rubber. He didn't tell her he’d be covering the difference out of his own Christmas bonus.
The neon sign over "Big Al’s Rubber & Rim" flickered with a rhythmic buzz, casting a sickly green glow over the gravel lot. It was the last day of the month, and the banner draped across the fence screamed in jagged red letters: Arthur nodded
"Manufacturer's error," Arthur lied smoothly, sliding the jack under the frame. "They sent us too many. Taking up space."
"Is the sign real?" she asked, her voice thin. "The free one?" He looked at the ledger on Al's desk
A rusted sedan pulled in, its front left tire hissing like a cornered snake. A young woman stepped out, looking at the sign, then at her wheel, then at Arthur.