Page 73 of Blood and Bonbons

“Let’s see what happens. We can negotiate the details later.”

When we tried the pawn shop's door, it didn’t open. Vena shaded the glass, peered inside, and knocked hard on the pane.

“I can see the little weasel in there. Come on, sloth-man,” she muttered, “pick up the pace. We have shit to do.”

No doubt, she was thinking of the text message and getting the ring.

“Are you nervous, Everly?” Cross asked, watching me closely.

I managed a weak smile.

“Not really, but I’m a little worried about him cheating you. Pawn shops aren’t my specialty. Bake sales? Yes. This? No.”

“But they are mine,” Vena said. “Don’t worry, Cross, my friend. I have your back.”

If he found her sudden helpfulness odd, he didn’t show it. He gestured for us to go first when the guy finally unlocked the door.

“Ladies,” the man said. “Mr. Cross. Sorry about that. I was getting the call set up.”

He led the way to the main counter.

“The call?” Vena asked.

“Yes. Mr. Davies is out of state but knew you were in a rush to sell. Even though he hasn’t heard back from his authenticator, he was willing to do a live video call to accommodate you.”

“How nice of him,” Vena said dryly.

I elbowed her.

“Thank you,” Cross said. “Let’s proceed.”

I glanced at him, noticing that his speech seemed a little different. Less stuffy.

“Yeah,” the owner said, turning the laptop on the counter to face us. “Just give me a second here.”

He hit a button, and a few seconds later, the screen filled with the image of a middle-aged man dressed in a casual button-up shirt. I wondered if Vena was doing the same thing I was…assessing the background.

From years of waitressing and my time at Blur, I’d gotten pretty good at profiling customers. The troublemakers. The cheapskates. The big tippers.

This guy was dressed like the average blue-collar working man, and the office behind him wasn’t anything special. But the band on his finger wasn’t beaten up or simple. Same with his glasses and the watch on his wrist. All three of those things gleamed with newness and quality. And that screamed money to me.

“Stan mentioned that you were looking for a little quick cash,” he said with a friendly smile. “Hopefully, I can help you out.”

“I appreciate you taking the time to speak with us,” Cross said smoothly.

“The pictures Stan sent over were interesting. Not interesting enough for my authenticator to get back to me within twelve hours but still interesting.”

Vena snorted softly, and I hoped no one but me heard.

“Can I ask where you found it?” Mr. Davies asked.

“It’s an heirloom,” Cross said.

“One that holds a great deal of value to him,” Vena added. “It’s been a fight just to get him to consider parting with it.”

Mr. Davies nodded like that was no news to him.

“Sentimental pieces are hard to part with. Often, they have more emotional value to the owner than market value, which is why it’s sometimes better to hold onto them. If you have the piece with you, would you allow Stan to show it to me again?”

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