Zeke
Sunday | 8:45pm
The pawn shopreeked of mildew, rotting wood, and desperation the second I stepped inside. I’d been all over the city, prowling every pawn shop I could find. This was my third and it sure as hell wouldn’t be my last.
By now, sweat drenched my shirt beneath the blazer. It clung to my back like wet paper, seeping into the collar and underarms. My nerves were fucked, barely held by duct tape and a shaky prayer.
I wiped my brow with the back of my hand and scanned the cluttered shop to see splintered glass cases and fading signs. Every item seemed like a story ending in loss. The velvet pouchin my hand felt leaden. Maybe that was guilt, or just the burden of what I was about to lose.
The old man behind the counter leaned in, adjusting his glasses. He was balding, with greasy hair slicked back, and a belly hanging over his belt, as if he had given up on caring two decades ago. The name tag on his worn shirt saidGus.
“What you got for me?” he asked, voice rough and scratchy.
I forced a smile, or at least something that resembled one. “Something special,” I said, my voice cracking slightly.
I reached into the pouch and drew out the necklace. It glittered with diamonds. I remembered the day I gave it to Evelyn on our anniversary. The church was full, the choir humming behind us. I stood tall, smiling like the perfect husband.
The congregation didn’t know I was giving it to her because she’d walked in on me with a soprano two nights before. That necklace wasn’t love. It was leverage. A band-aid over a bullet wound. It sparkled beautifully, and it bought me silence.
I held it out, letting Gus take it. He whistled low, lifted it as if he were handling the Holy Grail. “Nice piece,” he muttered. “Where’s the box?”
“Don’t have it,” I said quickly. “But it’s real, solid gold. Diamonds are clean. Damn nearflawless.”
He didn’t respond. He pulled out a jeweler’s magnifier and squinted at every corner. I tapped my fingers on the counter, trying not to show panic. I needed this to hit. Ineededthe money. I’d already pawned a Rolex, cufflinks, and the Lincoln’sstereo. Hell, I’d even tried selling the church’s communion chalice before I stopped myself. This necklace was my last chance.
Then Gus started chuckling, and that turned into full-blown laughter. I straightened up, stomach turning. “What’s funny?”
He dropped the necklace onto the counter with aclinkthat made my chest tighten. “You tryna hustle me?” he asked, laughing now like I was some kind of damn joke.
I blinked. “What?”
He shook his head and took off the magnifier. “This shits a fucking fake.”
My stomach dropped. “No. That’s impossible!”
“Not impossible. Just cheap.” He shoved it back toward me. “Damn good replica, but it ain’t real, old man. Maybe worth twenty bucks if you find the right sentimental fool.”
I picked it up, scanning it for any sign of truth. I saw the off-color and dullness. My fingers trembled. Evelyn, that polished devil in pearls, must’ve switched it and left me the fake. She probably hid the real one in a vault, waiting for me to fail.
“Son of a…” I started, but that’s as far as I got. A hand clamped down on my shoulder, and before I could even turn, a fist landed in my gut so hard it knocked the air out of me. My knees buckled, and I dropped like dead weight. “Wait a…” I tried to say, but the words didn’t come out.
Another punch hit my jaw, and everything went white. I hit the floor, crashing into a stool. I saw stars, blood pooling in my mouth.
“You tryna move fake shit inmyshop?” a voice snarled. It was deep and mean. I looked up to see a big, tattooed man with clenched fists.
“I didn’t know…” I croaked, voice shaking.
He kicked me again, square in the ribs, and I felt something shift inside me. The man stepped back with a tired sigh, rubbing his temples. “Get his dumb ass outta here.”
Two large men appeared. They dragged me by the collar, my feet scraping across the tile like trash. The front door flew open. Suddenly, I was airborne, tossed like yesterday’s garbage onto the rain-slicked sidewalk.
I hit hard. My elbow scraped open on the pavement as my breath caught in my throat. The city spun above me, painted in flickering streetlights and the hum of a busted neon sign next door. The last thing I heard before the door slammed shut was Gus’s voice, cold and dismissive.
“Don’t bring your broke ass back in here.” He tossed the necklace at me.
I lay there, hacking. Blood pooled as cars roared by and people drifted past, treating me as scenery. I stared at the useless necklace in my hand. Nyce wanted his money, and if I didn’t figure something out fast… he was going to take my daughter’s life. And I’d have no one to blame but myself.
