The gravel-voiced pawnshop owner, reeking of cigarette smoke and cheap cologne, holds the ring pinched between two of his thick fingers, admiring the way the blue sapphire sparkles in the light. \u201cThat\u2019s a real beauty,\u201d he tells the nervous customer standing on the other side of the counter.<\/p>\n
The pawnshop owner gives him the once-over. This kid is scrawny and fidgety. He\u2019s got a scar, which seems quite recent, just above his jawline on the left side of his face and a snake tattoo winding around his scrawny pasty-white arm. He\u2019s wearing a loose pair of faded jeans that are belted tightly around his thin waist to keep them from falling. The kid smells like he hasn\u2019t showered in a while, and his eyes look like he could use a good night\u2019s sleep. It\u2019s difficult to pinpoint his age, maybe he\u2019s in his thirties, but his face is so filled with worry that he could be younger, possibly in his twenties.<\/p>\n
When he tells the kid he needs his driver\u2019s license so he can make a copy of it, the kid flinches. \u201cOh, okay, I um, didn\u2019t know you\u2019d need ID,\u201d he says with a nervous smile. \u201cThe thing is, I lost my license.\u201d He pauses, licks at his lips. \u201cI don\u2019t mean my wallet got stolen. Lost my license from a DUI, but um, I\u2019ve got a state ID, that\u2019ll do, right?\u201d His hand trembles slightly when he hands over his ID. \u201cMy brother\u2019s gonna be pissed, but Mom gave the ring to me, not him, so he can squawk all he wants.\u201d<\/p>\n
The pawnshop owner holds the ID at arm\u2019s length, swiveling his head back and forth, looking at the ID, then looking at the kid.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe ID\u2019s legit. No question about it, that\u2019s you.\u201d He zeroes in on the birthdate. \u201cOh, I see you had a birthday two weeks ago. That makes you 24, right?\u201d<\/p>\n
The kid says \u201cyup\u201d and keeps talking. \u201cSo that\u2019s a real sapphire in the center and those are genuine diamond chips. And the ring is made from real gold.\u201d He turns away, coughing violently into his arm and getting splashes of gooey spittle on his snake tattoo. Slightly grossed out by his own sloppy spit, he furiously wipes his wet arm against his jeans.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis ring belonged to my great-grandmother,\u201d he says in a shaky voice. \u201cShe gave it to Gramma. Then it got passed down to my mother. I got no sisters, so Mom, before she died, gave it to me, she told me someday when I settle down and find the right woman I can give it to her. Mom told me to make sure, absolutely sure, it\u2019s the right woman, because she wanted the ring to stay in the family.\u201d<\/p>\n
The pawnshop owner nods sympathetically, then says what he\u2019s willing to give him for the ring.<\/p>\n
\u201cCould you do a little more, please?\u201d the kid asks, scratching at the side of his face. \u201cIt\u2019s just that I need money quick for, well, um, I just need money. And that\u2019s a real sapphire and it\u2019s been in my family for \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah kid, I understand, but I\u2019ve got to make a profit. Well, I can go a little higher.\u201d<\/p>\n
After some haggling, with the kid doing most of the haggling and the pawnshop owner barely budging from his original quote, they agree on a price.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy friend, the one who told me about this place, he said sometimes, people come back and buy back the stuff they hocked.\u201d<\/p>\n
The pawnshop owner clears his throat. \u201cSure kid, sometimes people do that.\u201d He clears his throat a second time. \u201cWell, let\u2019s get your paperwork started.\u201d<\/p>\n
The bell over the door clangs and both men turn their attention to the robust man breezing in with a vacuum cleaner. \u201cBought my wife a new one, figured I\u2019d see what I can get for this one. Still runs like a champ.\u201d The pawnshop owner smiles and points to three kitchen chairs arranged against the back wall. \u201cHave a seat over there, I\u2019ll be with you shortly.\u201d The man drags the vacuum cleaner across the shop and plops down hard on a chair. The pawnshop owner shouts across the room. \u201cThose chairs are for sale! The note on the wall says how much for one, but if you buy all three, I can give you a better deal!\u201d<\/p>\n
The man looks at the price, scowls, then laughs. \u201cI\u2019m here to sell, not buy. Just give me a holler when you\u2019re ready for me.\u201d He pulls out his phone, immediately absorbing himself in social media and blocking out his three-dimensional surroundings.<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay kid, let\u2019s get the paperwork outta the way.\u201d As they tend to the paperwork, the kid eyes the ring, picks it up and cradles it in the palm of his hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cGramma used to call this her Easter Sunday ring. Every Easter she\u2019d get dressed up for Mass in pretty blue clothes and put on this ring. Blue was her favorite color. She wore the ring other times too, but always on Easter. The first Easter after Gramma died, Mom wore the ring to Mass and then made a habit of wearing it to church every single Sunday. Then Mom got too sick and stopped going to church.\u201d<\/p>\n
The kid sets the ring back down on the counter. He looks down at his sneakers, unwilling to make eye contact. \u201cI just need some quick cash. But I\u2019ll be back, yeah, maybe as soon as next week, to buy back that ring.\u201d He takes a deep breath, scratches at his arm. \u201cIt\u2019s true what my friend said, about people buying back the stuff they hocked, right?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah kid, some people do that,\u201d the pawnshop owner says in a gravel-voiced whisper. He flashes a friendly smile, trying his best to give the kid hope. But they both know, the ring is gone for good.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The kid sets the ring back down on the counter. He looks down at his sneakers, unwilling to make eye contact. \u201cI just need some quick cash. But I\u2019ll be back, yeah, maybe as soon as next week, to buy back that ring.\u201d He takes a deep breath, scratches at his arm.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":182,"featured_media":23895,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3530],"tags":[4601],"class_list":["post-22967","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-flash-fiction","tag-pawn-shops","writer-paul-germano"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22967","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/182"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=22967"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22967\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":23902,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22967\/revisions\/23902"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/23895"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=22967"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=22967"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=22967"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}