Chapter 6: The Pawn Shop
343 words
The bell above the door jingled, announcing my shame to the dusty, cluttered pawn shop. I kept my head down, walking past rows of power tools and guitars to the counter behind the bulletproof glass. I placed my gold wedding band on the velvet tray.
"I just need fifty dollars," I whispered. "It’s… it’s a vintage setting."
The broker, a man with grease under his fingernails, screwed a loupe into his eye. He studied the ring for less than three seconds before tossing it back. It clattered against the glass counter.
"Brass and cubic zirconia. I don't buy costume jewelry, lady."
The air left my lungs. "No, that's a diamond. Richard bought it thirty years ago. He told me it was..."
"He told you a lie," the man grunted, turning back to his TV. "Or he swapped the stone out a long time ago. It’s worthless."
I stared at the cheap metal circle. Thirty years of marriage. Thirty years of servitude. And the symbol of it was a fake. The nausea rose in my throat, hot and acidic. Richard had probably sold the real diamond to fund one of his failed 'ventures'—or to buy Tiffany that tacky bracelet she was flaunting.
I didn't have fifty dollars. I didn't have a cent. But I needed that phone to call Arthur Vance.
My hand went to my neck. I unclasped the thin silver chain, the one holding my mother’s locket. It was the only thing of hers I had left. The metal was warm against my skin.
"Please," I laid the locket on the tray. My voice trembled. "It’s sterling silver. Real silver."
The man weighed it in his hand, indifferent to the history he was holding. "Scrap value is low right now. I’ll give you forty bucks. take it or leave it."
"I'll take it," I said, squeezing my eyes shut as he tossed the locket into a bin of random chains. I walked out with a cheap plastic flip-phone and a heart heavier than lead.
End of Chapter 6
