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“A pawn shop?” Collin asked as I led him down Canal Street toward Golden Scales Pawn. “But we don’t have anything to pawn.”
I lifted my chain from around my neck, dangling my engagement ring for him to see.
“No,” he insisted. “You can’t mean to sell your engagement ring.”
“Why not?” I asked. “We need bus fare. I am not going to marry Jason or anybody, really, unless my parents have arranged some sort of proxy marriage … which I probably shouldn’t mention around them, because it might give them ideas. Legally, Jason broke the engagement, so the ring is mine. Either way, it would hurt me a lot more to miss our deadline tonight than it will to sell this ring. So into the pawn shop I go.”
“Just you?”
“Yes,” I told him as we neared the shop entrance. “I’d like to handle this on my own. It’s a closure thing.”
He smoothed my hair back from my face. “Is this one of those mysteries I will never comprehend because I was born a lowly male?”
“You used the word ‘lowly,’ not me,” I called over my shoulder as I pushed the door open.
Everything that seems sketchy about pawn shops from the outside is doubly true on the inside. You can almost feel the desperation and broken dreams dripping off the merchandise. I was glad that Collin was outside. Lord knows what he would have picked up, vision-wise. I wound my way to the counter through displays of used laptops, weird random “art,” and, most heartbreaking of all, a row of kids’ bikes.
A large bear of a man with a shiny bald head leaned against the counter, poring over a comic book. His tidy black polo had a shiny gold shop logo embroidered over a well-built chest. I didn’t know whether I should be comforted or intimidated by his size, so I settled for clearing my throat politely. The man looked up from his Archie comic and smiled.
“How can I help you, hon?” he asked kindly. His head shimmered in the greenish fluorescent lights. I wondered idly if he waxed it to achieve such a sheen. He gave me a small smile and pulled a soft maroon cloth out of his display case. I guessed he knew that I was going to pawn jewelry, since I didn’t have anything else on me. I wasn’t carrying so much as a purse.
I stayed frozen to my spot, unable to step forward somehow. I knew I couldn’t keep the ring, didn’t want to, really. But selling it seemed so final. It made me a little sad to think of Jason’s family heirloom sitting in a pawn shop in the middle of nowhere. But I had to sell this stupid ring. I could not spend the rest of my life in a town called Hader’s Knob.
“I won’t bite, I promise.”
I fiddled with the chain around my neck. “I’m sorry. I’ve never done this before.”
“That’s OK, this time of night. We call it the ‘Bad Decision’ shift. Let me see what you’ve got.”
I pulled the chain over my head, because snapping one off your neck is not as easy as it looks in movies. And I handed it to the clerk.
“Are you looking to sell or pawn?” he asked, holding the ring up to the light.
“Sell. I don’t really want to see it again.”
He frowned, taking out a jeweler’s loupe. “Let’s take a closer look here.”
I took the chain and stuck it into my dress pocket. Already, I felt a weight lifted from my shoulder. I wondered why I’d held on to the ring for so long, why I’d agreed to take it back in the first place. Maybe I should send Jason the remaining balance after we paid for the bus tickets, I thought. Surely we would have some cash left.
With his jeweler’s loupe still in place, the clerk looked up at me and grimaced. “Hon, I’ve got some bad news for you.”
“Did I damage the setting?” I asked. “I haven’t exactly been vigilant about getting it cleaned or inspected.”
“Since you broke off your engagement?” he asked. I nodded. “And your fiancé told you this was a diamond?”
I nodded. Wait, did he say “told you”?
I closed my eyes and waited for the verbal blow. “What is it?”
He grimaced, placing the ring in my hand. “What you have here is a high-quality cubic zirconia.”
“Would you excuse me for a minute?” I asked through a tight smile. He nodded sympathetically.
I walked out the front door, to where Collin was waiting for me. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but I held up a finger. “You ASSHOLE!” I yelled. “Dirty, rotten, low-down PRICK!”
Collin’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, and he rushed toward me, glaring over my shoulder as if the shop was harboring some sort of junk-selling deviant.
“I’m fine,” I promised him. “Just give me a minute.”
