“Can’t say I have,” he mutters, his eyes shifting as he takes another long drag of his cigar.
Sebastian lets out a quiet chuckle. “That’s weird. Because every other shop we visited said you’re the only guy in town with the balls to even look at something that pricey.”
Milo shifts on his feet, setting his half-smoked cigar in a nearby ashtray.
“Look,” he sighs, lacing his fingers together. “Let’s say, hypothetically, someone did walk in here with a watch like that. That would be a very hot item. The kind of thing you don’t just flip overnight.”
“Exactly.” I shoot back. “Which means you still have it.”
He stiffens instantly. “I don’t —”
I raise my hand, cutting him off. “Don’t lie to me, Milo. It’s insulting.”
He stares at me for a moment, narrowing his eyes. I don’t move. I don’t blink.
Milo sighs, letting his shoulders sag. “Fine.” He reaches into his coat and sets the watch carefully on the counter. “Here it is.”
I pick up my watch, turning it over in my hand and holding it up to the light. Just how I remember it. “I’ll give you twenty grand for it.”
“That’s it?” Milo bellows, throwing his hands up in disbelief. “That’s not even enough to cover my cut!”
Sebastian raises his eyebrows and steps toward the counter. “It’s cute that you thought you’d get one. Better luck next time.”
Milo taps his fingers against the counter, his mouth pressed into a tight line. “Why even pay? Just take it.”
I lean forward slightly, lowering my voice to a near whisper. “Because you’re going to call her. Now. Unless you want her thinking you pocketed more than your share.”
The color instantly drains from his face.
Sebastian lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he moves again, joining me at the counter’s edge. “What’s wrong? Suddenly have morals?”
Milo shifts again, like he’s weighing his options. Protect the thief or risk facing whatever consequences we decide to hand out if he doesn’t do what we say.
“Look,” he sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “She’s gonna be pissed. If you bump it up to thirty grand, it might go over a little better.”
Seb barks out a laugh. “She’s lucky she’s getting twenty. Have her here in the next fifteen minutes or it goes down to ten.”
Milo exhales sharply. “Okay. I’ll call her. Just don’t turn this place into a crime scene.”
He grabs the shop’s phone and turns his back on us to dial.
I slip between two shelves stacked with dusty stereo equipment, keeping a clear line of sight to the front door. Sebastian drifts toward the other side of the store, plopping a ridiculous cowboy hat onto his head as he makes his way to a crate of old vinyl records.
The shop is silent, aside from the hum of the cheap fluorescent lights overhead and Milo’s uneven breathing. He keeps glancing toward the back storage room like he’s considering hiding in there until this is over.
Sebastian breaks the silence first. “Relax,” he says coolly, still flipping through records. “We’re not here for you.”
“That’s what worries me,” Milo grumbles.
Time drags on. A minute. Three. Five. Ten.
When the bell over the door finally jingles, Milo startles, the ashtray rattling against the counter.
She bursts through the door like she owns the place. Confident, quick, absolutely no hesitation. Her pitch-black waves hang loose around her shoulders, with sunglasses pushed up on her head.
She glances around, her eyes snagging on Seb, who keeps his back to her. She doesn’t seem to notice me behind the shelves.
When she spots Milo at the counter, her expression sharpens.
