Pawning Grudges

A short story. By Emma Brattin.

Scary knife shadows. August 2024. Photography by Emma Brattin.

Today was the first and last time I loved my job. I walked into work like always at exactly 9:00 AM, a half-drank Mountain Dew in my left hand, a polished Breitling on my right wrist. I left work at 11:19 AM, running faster than I knew how, one shoe left behind. It was not a normal day.

I’ve worked at Stuffins & John Trading Company for three lonely years. While the name of the company may sound lavish, it was just a typical, screw-you-out-of-your-money pawn shop. I didn’t take pride in that fact but the bossman loved it. He got off on the cheat. I usually oversaw selling to people, he took care of buying from people.

Once a grandma type lady came in, selling her pearls—she wanted to help pay for her granddaughter’s wedding. Her pearls were these beautiful, South Sea grey pearls—super rare. She had absolutely no idea what a gold mine she’d been saving her whole life.

I left the room when I heard the bossman offer her $4,000.

Just a normal day.

But today … today wasn’t normal. It’d been an annoyingly slow day. You know the kind where everything is clean and polished and organized more than you can stand and still it’s only been two hours since the shift started? On top of it, my shoes were driving me crazy. I’d just bought theses boat-shoe-loafer-things that were so uncomfortable I’d taken them off behind the counter.

The bell on the front doorhandle jingled then the door slammed closed.

I glanced up.

She stood there staring back at me, a confused look on her face.

She was a tall, dark-haired, lightly tanned, gorgeous, late 20’s female. Her full red lips lingered below the dark lenses of Ray Ban aviators.

She doesn’t belong here, I thought, trying to maintain my neutral expression as she studied me. Suddenly her expression flipped to relief. She walked over to me, stopping on the other side of the engagement rings. The glass case between us didn’t seem to keep me from noticing her slender, strong body.

She smiled coyly at me; her white teeth slightly exposed between her red lips. She placed her elbows delicately on the glass and leaned into them, her collar too high to show cleavage but her body shape arguing with that concept. I couldn’t help but glance down but looked quickly back up to her face. She smiled again, this time her teeth reflected perfection back at me. She reached up with her right hand and her emerald eyes sparkled as she slid her sunglasses partially down her nose.

“Can I help you?” I choked out. Girls didn’t usually make me feel this way. I was normally cool, calm … awesome.

“Ahh, honey, you know why I’m here.” She said, her voice dripping with honey. Her expression flirtatious. She pulled the sunglasses off and placed them on her hair.

“What’s it to you?” I replied then grimaced, but she laughed. A beautiful sound that I instantly wanted to hear again.

“You must not be Brown,” she said. She looked momentarily relieved then became stoic. “He is here, right? Where can I find him?”

“Bossman is in his office. Is he expecting you? I can let him know you’re here.” I offered.

“Nah, sugar. You stay here. Besides, you might be needing your shoes soon.” She winked at me.

“Shit, yeah, they’re … shit. Sorry.” I stammered, reaching to the floor for my shoes. She laughed again. God she’s beautiful. I pulled one shoe on and looked over the counter. She was looking down at her left hand with a pen in her right. She glanced up at me with a furled brow. She sighed loudly, then reached her hand out to me.

“Open this after I’m in Brown’s office,” she instructed, handing me a folded piece of paper.

“Okay …” I replied, reaching out and opening my palm. She placed the paper in my hand and squeezed my fingers. Her touch sent a pulse through my fingers, up my arm … it electrocuted my heart.

“Please?” She said.

I’d lost all ability to breath. I nodded and our eyes met. The air felt like it weighed a million pounds, pressing into my chest. I let out a gasp. She let go of my hand and turned away, walking swiftly to Brown’s office door. She glanced back briefly with her hand on the doorknob, then confidently walked inside.

Was that a teardrop I saw on her cheek? Was that fear or dread? Why did I have an overwhelming urge to protect her? What the hell just happened?

I glanced down at the paper she’d handed me.

RUN

So I did.

One shoe on, I cleared the glass jewelry counter in a single leap, two lunges more I’m at the door, the bell jingling as I yanked the door open.

I’m three steps out the door when everything behind me enfolded into one cluster of sound, fire, and debris.