Page 75 of Joey

The jewelry store isn’t really a store. More of a private showroom for rich, connected people. We pull up to a plain brick building with no sign in downtown just off Maple Avenue.

“What’s this?” Brooke asks.

“The rich man’s version of a jewelry store,” I say. “Come on. They’re expecting us.”

We get out and walk up to the door. There’s a small security panel built into the brick, and when I press the button, a soft, feminine voice immediately says, “Come in, Mr. Boston,” and the door lock buzzes.

Brook says nothing when I open the door and wave her forward. If she’s impressed by the exclusive nature of our little ring-shopping adventure, she doesn’t show it.

Mr. Frank greets us as we approach the end of a long hallway. “Joey Boston,” he says. “How many years has it been?”

“Long time,” I say.

“The last time you were here you came with your father.”

“Yeah,” I say, looking at Brooke. “High school graduation.” Then I hold up my wrist and say, “Still got it.”

“That watch,” he says, squinting his eyes. “One of the finest in the world. Your father really loved you. Johnny didn’t get a watch. Jesse didn’t get a watch. Just you.”

“Huh,” I say. “I guess I never realized that.”

“Come in. Come in. What brings you to my humble shop today?”

We enter the main showroom and humble is not even in the top million words any sane person would use to describe this place.

There are literally hundreds of millions of dollars in jewels and timepieces in this room.

“Wow,” Brooke says, raising her eyebrows. “This is some collection.”

“We’re shopping for a ring,” I say, then notice the whirring of cameras up in each of the room’s corners. They’re zooming in on us, I think.

“A ring!” Mr. Frank says, clasping his hands together. “What kind of ring?”

“You know,” I say, taking Brooke’s hand and bringing her knuckles to my lips so I can kiss them. “This kind.”

She looks at me and blushes. So that’s what it takes to make her pink?

And… wow. I really like her pink. So I kiss her hand again.

“What do you like, my dear? Don’t be shy. This one can afford anything in this room. In fact he could buy everything in this room if your heart desired it.”

Brooke looks at me in surprise.

“He’s joking,” I say.

But Mr. Frank whispers, “I’m really not, darling. Get anything you want.”

“Well,” Brooke says, looking around. “I’m kind of a simple girl. I was thinking one carat—”

Mr. Frank is already tsk-ing his tongue. “One? No, no, no. You need three.”

“Three… three… three is much too big,” Brooke says.

“I agree,” I say. “At least three.”

“See, he says at least three. Which means we start at three point five.”

“No,” Brooke says, turning to face me. “I’m not wearing a ring that big. It’s too much. Someone will rob me. One carat is fine.”