The some fallen leaves rustled across the sidewalk in the chill wind that picked up as Sidney walked down the rows of shops still open this late, looking for the sign that said ‘Pawnography’. A pawn shop with a name to tease dirty minds, it had caught hers immediately for a closer inspection. She had a particular need only a pawn shop could fill and with a name like that? What the hell.
The only drawback to this was the slim chance that this pawn shop might be the one in a hundred that contained the one person she was hoping to avoid. It shouldn’t be… the name was different, but it was a pawn shop. Fingers and toes crossed.
Jiggling her hand in the pocket of her ragged, oversized hoodie, Sid rolled the fancy brooch she carried in her fingers as she headed for the glass front door, her converse scuffing the sidewalk with a rough and rasping sound. A bell rang cheerfully as the door opened, like any shop ever it seemed, with a familiar sound. It was the same for any number of other small business like this, that hadn’t adopted an electronic bell. Inside, a plethora of things decorated the walls, from old guns to electric guitars, and the ring of display classes showed everything from cigar cases to antique toys. Too familiar, almost, but the feeling was easy to brush off. All pawn shops looked the same, right?
Thankfully, there was a tall, stacked blonde chick at the counter and not a thin goth man. It gave Sid hope and she slapped a wide, inviting smile onto her face as she reached to tug the front zipper on her hoody a little bit lower. Sauntering to the counter, she offered up a playful greeting and settled in to haggle with the hottie behind the counter for the stolen brooch she’d brought to pawn, confident now she could charm her way to the money she needed to get her fix. Getting the girl’s number was probably too much to hope for… when they found out it was stolen, if they did, there was no way this girl was going to want to have anything to do with her.
Melissa smiled. She hated the mandated smiling rule.
When she was hired two months ago, the shop owner was very specific about what he expected from her. Makeup was allowed, he didn’t care much if she used her phone so long as she was covert about it, and she could be the slowest cashier in the store so long as she was accurate about it. However, he emphasized that if she ran up an unexplainable deficit in her til reconciliation or she failed to smile at every customer that stopped by, then she’d be right back to looking at applying for the cook position at Taco King.
The shop owner also had the gall to write her up for ‘failing to greet a customer properly’ - namely, failing to flash her pearly whites at a secret shopper that was brought in to test the staff. Melissa still felt particularly sore about this, but knew well enough to keep it to herself.
She only needed this job long enough to pay her parents back on the used Corolla they bought her as a combined graduation / birthday present. Unfortunately, that present did not come with free car insurance.
So now Melissa smiled at everyone, even the people that weren’t looking at her. “Hi,” she offered noncommittally. Painted lilac nails tangled into her blonde curls idly, like she lost a thought in her full head of hair. “Um, are you looking to pawn something…?” Baby blues darted toward the clutched brooch of the rainbow haired girl. Her hip cocked, shifting her position to the side. The girl looked like she could be a sister to Melissa’s friend Symphoni, but she didn’t know the girl well enough to ask. Besides, this stranger looked pretty rough to be living with a family like Sym’s. She dressed cute, though, and seemed friendly enough.
Ah, that plastered on smile… someone was looking to get a commission out of this, huh?
Sid settled herself to lean against the counter, tilting to give a good view of her chest or what there was to see. She pulled her hand from her pocket and the brooch in it caught the light, flashing gold, ruby and pearl as she set it down on the counter. It clicked softly and she pushed it towards the sales girl, tucking an arm under her to lean on. One foot lifted, toe idly tapping the floor, as she worked up a story.
“Hello, Miss! Yes, I would really like to sell this brooch.” She said as she waved her fingers at it. Her expression sobered with practiced ease and she widened her eyes, knowing how sad it made her look. She had always been able to pull off pathetic pretty well with her small frame.
“It was my grandmother’s, but she passed away last year. I’ve been desperately trying to hold onto it, you know? But rent is due and my landlord is going to evict me if I don’t come up with some cash fast…” Sid debated if a jut of a lower lip would do her any favors and decided against it. Didn’t want to lay it on too thick to start out. “So, here I am. Sucks, but you know. Have to keep a roof over my head.”
Thin fingers laced together and Sid settled them on the counter. Small, even teeth worried at her lower lip, tugging and releasing as though she didn’t know exactly what she was doing. Her eyes she kept purposefully wide, now with a little, subtle tilt to her head that had her looking up through her layer of false lashes. It wasn’t hard to look up at someone through your lashes when you were perpetually one of the shortest in the room. She’d learned to take advantage of it.
”Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” Melissa offered in condolences. Hands rested over her cleavage as if to say the story pained her. The girl looked like she hadn’t seen a good day in years, which compelled the blonde to do something about it. But lacking any idea about the brooch or what it might be worth, how was she supposed to help? “Hold on a minute.”
Melissa left the counter and strayed a few paces away where she paused by a cracked office door. She knocked tentatively, then pushed the door open wide enough to poke her head inside. “Isaiah? There’s a girl here who wants to sell a brooch. She doesn’t look too good either. Can you help her out?”
”They all look that way,” Isaiah muttered under his breath. Without a word, he stood and shut his laptop. After following Melissa out of the office, his heart froze and dropped through his stomach upon sighting Sidney. There was little use in mulling over their last altercation at the club bathroom - he was here as a businessman foremost, and any personal baggage carried did not apply here. The pinstripe jacket he wore looked nothing like his usual attire save for the skull buttons that held it closed. Dark wash jeans took the place of black leathers. No makeup touched that face, which perhaps felt strangest of all for the off-hours rivethead.
He eyed his ex in the better lighting afforded by the pawn shop. Wells formed in her cheeks where drug use and lack of eating wore her thin. Her eyes bore that haunted look of someone being chased by the specter of addiction. Glassy eyes informed him that she was entering the first stages of withdrawal - if she was a heavy user, he suspected it’d been over a day since her last hit. And while he crossed to the counter, he wondered what her drug of choice was. It couldn’t be skag, she never interested herself in it. But what of scrips, or coke, or ice?
“Good evening, Sidney,” he started as his eyes immediately came to the brooch. During their discussion, he focused on it intently and never raised his gaze to meet hers. “Let’s see what we have here…” As he seized the brooch, his hands shook somewhat with a cold clamminess, but practiced and continued movement obscured much of it from the inattentive onlooker.
Melissa pressed both hands to the counter and locked her elbows, inadvertently pushing her cleavage together while she leaned in for a better look. “She said it’s her grandmas, but her grandma died and her landlord is gonna evict her if she doesn’t get some cash…” She trailed off, blinked, then furrowed brow. “Wait, you know her?”
Isaiah flashed his cashier a smile that, while polite, bespoke a phrase similar to you’re not paid enough to ask me questions. “Why don’t you clean off the gun displays? Glass cleaner and paper towels are in the janitorial closet.” He left no room for discussion.
Sid offered a woeful smile at the girl that covered her unease at needing a superior to look at the brooch. The more people involved, the harder this would be and anyone higher up would both know the true value of the piece and be more suspicious of its origins.
Painted nails tapped a driving rhythm against the counter as she let her eyes wander. There were some cool looking microphones over by the corner, but it was hard to make out brands this far away. Didn't matter anyway, if she was being realistic. She probably shouldn't be buying things here, on top of having jack s**t for money... But temptation warred with need for a few scant moments before the ache won out.
This money was sadly already spoken for.
Almond eyes swept back as a greeting sounded and Sid's nerves froze into a lump and dropped to the bottom of her stomach. Automatically, she plastered a smile back on her face, attempting ingratiating.
"Ice! I didn't know this was your store. Didn't you used to call it Sterling?" The short woman offered as he grabbed up her brooch, refusing to meet her eyes. Still mad at her, obviously, but no surprise there. The blonde girl got a wistful smile in parting as she was ordered out and Sid prepared herself for.... However this was going to turn out. There were a thousand ways Ice could decide to turn this, any number of which screwed her over royally.
When the girl was gone, she braced her ribs against the counter and leaned, one slim hand tucked under her chin in affected relaxation.
"I just want to sell. It's real, in good condition. We both know these things can retail for over a thousand... I want seven hundred." Maybe an appeal to the business man in him would be the best track to take... He'd get a good deal out of this, she'd get the money she needed and they could part ways. Next time, she'd try somewhere other than 'Pawnography' when she had something to sell. Somewhere that didn't have Isaiah behind the counter, silently judging her in his neat pinstripe coat.
Even if he looked really good doing it. Damn it. He looked clean... The straight lines of the coat emphasized his thin frame and made him look long, elegant and professional. The skull buttons were a nice touch... Like you were negotiating with the Reaper. Once, she might have teased him about being the big businessman with his paperwork and invoices and fax numbers and tried to get him to do it on top of his desk. Now, it just reminded her of the holes in her own clothes and the bags under her eyes, the empty wallet in her pocket. He was doing well for himself without her, and she was just a little jealous.
Isaiah tried to offer her a polite smile, but it came out wanting and wan. Every attempt to provide the good customer service he prided himself on led to more frustration with himself. “Yes, it was Sterling Pawn back in New York, but that was because the owner Joseph Sterling wanted out of the business and passed it on to me. Made more sense to keep the name and therefore the consumer base. Here, I don’t have that same need.” It felt significantly easier to discuss his business than to confront what lay between them as ex-lovers. Numbers, figures, appraisals all held wonder and fascination, where they themselves produced rot.
Isaiah pulled his jeweler’s eye from a small blue plastic box kept behind the counter. After laying the brooch atop the display case, he leaned over it until his long tendrils of bangs spilled out over the glass. He remained silent for a time until what he discerned earned a frown. When he finally retired the jeweler’s eye and engaged his customer again, he forced himself to look her in the eyes and keep voice low.
“It’s not my business to ask where you got this. But… I worry that you might’ve gotten yourself into something more high stakes than we ever did. If you’re wanting seven hundred, then you don’t know the price of this brooch.” He held it up for her, each diamond glinting brightly beneath the fluorescents. “It’s 1930s art deco, made of platinum and real diamonds. And not the cheap s**t you can get at any Kay’s Jewelers either. This kind of brooch retails at over ten grand. Whoever you poached it from is going to notice it’s missing. And considering the price… You might lose the game over it.” He used the phrase they often shared when discussing life or death situations, because relating potential murder to a largely irritating and loathsome ‘game’ somehow mitigated the fear.
“First, I want you to know that if I take this, there’s going to be a paper trail. Fake names have always been in the business, but buying the brooch in the first place puts me in hot water if this came from a mob boss’s lonely housewife. Secondly, if I accept this, I can offer eight grand in trade. If it were anyone else, I’d offer five and tell them to store it in their asses while they walked out the door.” He leaned on his counter then, with forearms flush against the glass and bony fingers knotted together in a lattice.
He wondered if she remembered to eat.
Sid watched with thinly veiled impatience as Isaiah retrieved his glass and bent over the brooch, studying it in minute detail. As she pushed back to lean only hands on the counter, her fingers kept up their restless drumming, beating out the bass rhythm from one of her songs. The longer he mused over it the harder they tapped the glass, until her fingertips ached with it and she was forced to clench them into fists to stop the nervous motions.
She tensed when he finally straightened up, watching the frown on his face that pulled an answering one onto her own. He was going to refuse her, she just knew it… he was going to tell her it was fake, or he didn’t want to buy from her and it was going to ******** everything up because she’d have to go somewhere else… and then he started going on about the brooch being significantly more expensive than she had thought.
Sid’s mouth worked as she jerked her gaze to the piece, shifting her weight from one hip to the other.
“Say what now?” She breathed, her magenta eyes wide. Platinum AND diamonds? Jesus Christ… It took a little bit, to really absorb what Ice was telling her. Eight GRAND?
“No one is going to notice its missing, Ice.” She murmured under her breath, her fingers curling to scrape the glass with chipped-polish nails. “LIke, for seriously… ******** rich boy, gangster wannabe lived in a gated community in his parent’s pool house. His parents never knew I was there and its not like he’s ever going to go digging to the bottom of his mom’s jewelry box. That thing probably hasn’t been touched in years, they’re not going to even know its gone. Not like she didn’t have half a dozen others like it…”
The short woman narrowed her gaze as she stared at the brooch for a moment longer before swinging that look to him. She watched as he leaned on the counter, long, thin fingers weaving together.
“What’s the catch, Ice?” She said finally, pushing away from the counter to lose her arms in her over-long sleeves and cross them under her chest. “Why eight and not five? Why if?”
Isaiah only shrugged at her response. He found no conscionable way to test the honesty of her answer, so he had only to trust that the brooch meant nothing to its owner and take the chance on it or refuse her based on caution. Inwardly he reminded himself that few great stories were minted on the meek. “I can’t prove where you got it. Without a police report and evidence of its ownership, no one else can prove where you got it either.”
Isaiah sighed through nose and bowed his head momentarily. He watched his own dim reflection staring back at him in the glass, and diverted his gaze to the dramatic curls at the end of his sideburns - how they rejoined with their reflection to form jutting spikes. He wondered if there was some message to it. When he looked up and lent her his attention, he looked tired. “A lot goes into that decision. First, I want to say that I’m not offering you cash - which means in part that I will offer you more than the standard five grand due to a limited scope of liquidity. It’s trade, so you are welcome to anything in this store with a total limit of eight thousand. That doesn’t expire.
“Secondly, I’m offering you more than the standard because we were engaged and I’m letting that influence my decision. I know how we lived. I can’t imagine it’s any different for you now. Worse, I imagine, given the terrorist climate of Destiny City.
“And lastly, I want this offer to be a valuable one, because I know you won’t get that kind of offer from anyone else in the pawn business. It’s actually a little ludicrous to offer that much…” He straightened and rubbed his eyes with index and thumb. Inwardly he was glad he never wore makeup to work, else he’d have a mess on his hands. “So if you did walk into another pawn shop to sell, and you asked for more than eight or even more than five, you’d get laughed out of the store. I’m taking a serious gamble that might end in a loss. And I’m doing this because I know where the money’s going if I cut you a deal in cash.” The intended purchase was written in the way her eyes glazed with a haunt and how her hands constantly twitched, how she looked a little paranoid in surveying the shop.
"Ice!" Sid burst out in protest as he offered her, effectively, store credit for a multi thousand dollar piece of jewelry. The ******** was she supposed to do with that? Take a couple of watches and see if she could hock those? She didn't need things, not now...
"I didn't come here to trade! I need cash, in hand." She hissed, her voice projected under the hearing of the blonde by the gun case. Thin fingers gripped the edge of the case, slowly turning white as he continued, citing their old relationship and exactly why he wasn't going to give her cash or even a ******** check.
Color leeched from her face in a mixture of anger and growing desperation. She could take the brooch somewhere else, but those guys were as likely to turn her away as Ice should be doing right now, or undercut her harshly on the value. She was going to end up with nothing and already she felt like s**t.
"God damn it, Ice, you don't have any right to do that!" Sid snapped as she forced her fingers to release their death grip, slapping a palm down on the glass hard enough to sting. She poked the glass with a forefinger, emphasizing her words. "I don't need a ******** trade. You don't have anything here I need, you can't make me spend ******** eight thousand dollars in the store..."
This was ridiculous... He was being such a p***k! Just because he thought he knew how she was supposed to live her life, like her Aunt had, and thought he could force her to do what he wanted her to do, regardless of how she felt about it, like her Uncle... Sid seethed across the counter from her Ex and was suddenly glad she had left him in New York.
"Don't act like you're doing me this big charity, Isaiah." The short woman bit out. "This is exactly like last time... You think your opinions are the only ones that matter and like you can just force me to do what you want me to do... Like what I need doesn't matter!"
Anger bubbled over abruptly into frustration and soon magenta eyes went bright with tears she held back, her hands clenched into fists that made the boney knuckles stand out harsh under thin skin.
"How many times did I spot you, Ice, huh? How many?" Her voice trembled a little, getting thicker in her throat, and she lowered it to a near whisper as she leaned over the counter. "How many times did I ******** Tony so the leg cramps would stop, because Tony doesn't like guys?"
Sidney said it with all the intent to wound and shame him, because right then, it didn't matter that she had offered to do it. That she'd even enjoyed it because; hey, Tony was hot and she'd have done him for fun anyway? What mattered was that Ice was being an a*****e and she needed that money.
Ice did not speak during her tirade. He remained at the counter, eyes falling to the brooch while she compounded her own frustrations with the assumption that he was trying to control her. She assumed she intended this trade as a punishment, that he somehow wanted her to suffer for her drug addiction. And if he did, he would surely trade her the money, paltry though he would make the deal. Isaiah knew full well how to take advantage of the addicted. He knew to nuke every trade of pure cash into 20% or less of the object’s value and they would accept, knowing that time was of the essence and money in any form could chase the next hit. He knew, because someone did it to him before.
So his intent to present her with a viable amount of trade - of even purchasing anything she might want beyond drugs - fell flat. She drew her assumptions and he felt that speaking exacerbated the problem. He watched her hand strike the counter, he watched her finger leave smeared, clammy smudges from cold sweats. And he knew exactly how she felt in that moment, because someone did it to him before.
This isn’t a charity service, he wanted to say. I’m not giving you anything for free. I’m not compelling you to take the deal. I’m not saying you have to trade at this store, and not the others. You would know all of these things, Sidney, if you weren’t jonesing. You do know all these things, but you’ll fight for it anyway.
Hazel eyes shut over her last comment and he drew a careful breath that he measured out slowly. Fingers splayed out over the counter but they lacked the presence and strike that Sidney managed. His cashier was looking now, undoubtedly. Wondering what was going on. Wondering whether she should step in and help. Wondering if her boss was truly trying to rip someone off.
Wondering how Sidney knew his name.
When he opened his eyes, the glassiness was telltale. His voice remained low, quiet. He did not speak directly to her, or try to look at her - instead he sought the phone that sat next to the register. It was an old cordless phone, one he bought eons ago that had been sitting in the bowels of his shop for quite some time. It even showed its age with a yellowed white, and the buttons hadn’t lit terribly well. He pressed the call button for the dial tone, then entered in a set of digits and held it to ear.
You’ll know when i’m forcing you, Sid, and when I’m giving you a chance.
A garbled voice answered on the other line. “Hello, Officer Dunham. I’d like to report stolen merchandise and its recipient.” Finally he spared a glance toward Sidney, bearing an urgency to it.
He was silent the whole time and that should have clued her in. Given her some warning that she had crossed a line with him, pushed him too far. Then he picked up the phone and her words trailed to a stop as he began to dial.
Officer Dunham… Sid’s eyes widened as her stomach twisted into a knot, dropping like a rock. She jerked forward, half jumping onto the counter to grasp for his sleeve and jerk it, pulling the phone away from his ear.
“Ice!” She hissed, hurt plain on her face. Forced up onto her toes and draped across the counter, her words tripped out at a fast clip and thin with pleading. “What are you doing? C’mon… don’t do that… Ice, I’m sorry, please?”
Tears gathered thicker as anger gave way to fear and she swallowed roughly, breathing through her nose. “Please… I didn’t mean that. C’mon… Its me, Ice. Don’t bring cops into it…”
For a scary moment, she honestly wasn’t sure if he was really going to report her or not… Once, she would have seen it as an empty threat. Now? Now, there was no telling and it was like she didn’t know the man across the counter any more. He was a different person, suddenly, this man who used to be her Ice.
Isaiah looked to her, watched her for a long moment, waited for another bitter glance to issue from fuchsia eyes. None came, and while his cold logic urged him to finish the call, to send her on her way, he faltered. While Officer Dunham continued to question the ensuing silence and whether Isaiah was still on the line, a finger pressed the ‘off’ button on the handset. No dialtone issued afterward - only silence fell over the line. Afterward he retired the phone to its stand with an abrupt sigh.
Melissa was certainly looking now, and certainly interested in why this stranger was suddenly leaning over the counter and managing such bold actions with the shop owner. She didn’t know Zähne well, and didn’t particularly care to. Something seemed off about the man, she wasn’t certain of his last name, and sometimes she caught him looking at her in a manner she couldn’t discern. However, he signed her paychecks and she was pretty certain that she could get away with deals of her own if she won her way into his heart. So, sensing further unrest, Melissa strode over to see what was a miss. “Anything I can help with?” She volunteered calmly, a hint of concern apparent.
Isaiah closed his eyes a beat, collected himself, and donned a smile that looked about as full of charm and interest as a serial killer’s. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m in the middle of a negotiation. If you’re bored, you can recount the jewelry.” Somehow he still managed patience in his voice.
“I already counted them four times and no one’s been in the store since the last time.” Hands folded just beneath her bust and she leaned against the counter with one elbow resting on the edge. She must’ve flipped her hair again recently, for the bulk of it cascaded down the front of one shoulder.
Isaiah found little appreciation for that look. He found just as much endearment in her attitude. “Then count the teeth in your mouth. And if you’re still bored afterward, call Mr. Sarcowicz and have a chat with him over selling me his eye.” He watched her afterward, expectant of another retort, but Melissa caught the hint smoothly and went on her way. Her body language suggested great irritation, and he half-expected her in his office later with an outburst.
Finally he turned his attention back to Sid. “You know that ‘store credit’ isn’t limited by the scope of its implications. If you needed food, or your electricity bill paid, or general maintenance around the house, I would consider that covered by the projected offer. Anything you want, as long as it’s not money or anything that can be snorted, smoked, freebased, popped, or injected. That’s not negotiable.”
He put the phone away and relief rushed through her, making her feel weak. Oh thank god… She really hadn’t been sure, there for a moment, that he wasn’t going to do it. It was… unthinkable, but at the same time, he had changed so much from the person she used to know.
She released his sleeve and slid off the counter, jerking to the side to turn her back on the nosey blonde employee. Fingers tangled in her cuffs as she scrubbed at her face with them, erasing the leaking mascara from under her eyes. She burned with embarrassment, knowing the woman had seen her like that. Damn Ice, for making her do it. It wasn’t fair.
Behind her, she heard the little argument, a girl with too much time on her hands getting petulant because she thought she was being left out of something. Anger bubbled up again and she firmly wished the vapid creature at the bottom of a very deep well right now. ******** her and her fake tits and perfect blonde hair. Some people needed to learn when to keep their ******** noses out of other people’s business. At least Ice found her as horrid as she did and told her off. It was something, and it gave them a measure of privacy again.
Sid hid a sniffle in the sleeve of her hoody, scrubbing across her mouth and nose.
“I don’t need any of that, Ice.” She said over her shoulder. “The guy I’m staying with covers all that. I just… I need a little bit, just to hold me over.”
“Everything hurts, Ice… you know? I just need to take the edge off, that’s all. I’m not like you, I can’t just stop, all at once. That’s why it didn’t work last time. I swear, I’m working my way down, I really am, but it hurts too much… Everything is all hard edged and sharp, I can’t hardly function. I just need to ease it, a little bit, make it a little less hard. I swear that’s all I’m asking for… I don’t even care about the ******** brooch and how much its worth.” Her voice rasped as she spoke into her sleeve, leaning back until one prominent hip pressed against the side of the display case. There was a measure of pleading to it now, a last try at appealing to him. “I’d take the bulk of it in credit, if that’s what you really want, but I just need a little bit. Just enough for one, that’s it.”
”You already have my offer.” Nimble fingers collected the jeweler’s eye and deposited it back into its plastic case. He snapped it shut deliberately. “I told you that I would not pay in any case. And since you already have someone providing for that…” If someone’s truly providing for her and she’s not saying so to spark jealousy, then this is fully intentional self-destruction. What is the point, Sid? What do you get out of driving yourself into the ground?
“We have nothing more to discuss. You can take the offer as it stands, or you can show yourself to the door.” His words maintained a cool, even tone despite the charge in the air. He drew another measured breath when he returned the jeweler’s set to its rightful place, and seemed somewhat removed from their conflict when his attention centered on Sid. “And let me tell you, Sidney - I will not be crushed to see that brooch walk.” He expected that, since art deco already made its return and left once more, he wouldn’t be seeing profit on such an item for years. And while its lack of real estate allowed for such a long-term investment, Isaiah would not pay the price of a potentially bad batch of drugs in order to get it.
And Sidney, he expected, would not become a constant thorn in his side. She knew where he worked now, so there was no fear of her stumbling back in a second time unless she absolutely could not find a sponsor for her addiction.
Part of him considered that she might finally kick her habits, and if she went searching him out again, what then?
The snap of the case pulled a flinch from the short woman and she frowned, her fingers curling tight into the fabric of her worn sleeves. She knew a dead end when she heard one and there would be no getting anything out of him now. Stubborn ******** heartless…” She grumbled as she turned to snatch up the brooch, the sparkling bit disappearing into the folds of her hoody. Sid refused to meet his eyes, her face cold and pained. “Thanks for nothing.”
Thin fingers pulled her hood up to hide bright rainbow in dusty black and she made quick strides for the door. The bell over it rang as cheerfully as it had for every other customer, but it was not a happy one that was leaving this time.
It’d be a cold day in hell before she asked Isaiah Zähne for anything again. She was going to get next to nothing for this god damn brooch, but ******** it. Better to take her chances with another buyer, because at least then, she’d be getting the cash she needed. The slender figure let the door bang shut behind her, the rubber soles of her shoes scuffing the dirty sidewalk as she left her ex and all his issues behind her.
Whimsical Blue
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