I was in luck; she didn’t even open her eyes when I roused her and told her I was off. “If you crash and die, I’ll kill you,” she mumbled through a yawn as I ran out the door.
Sarah turned out to be the one who was suspicious. She gave me some serious side-eyes for most of the journey. “Not that this isn’t great,” she told me, holding her fingers in front of the heating vents. “Especially since Diane is probably going to have me for breakfast this morning, but why today?”
I shrugged. “Rob’s out of town and it’s cold.” When she didn’t reply, I glanced across at her. She could not have looked more sceptical. I sighed; I guessed I could give her some information. “Well, this might be your last opportunity to enjoy my Lexus. I’m probably going to sell it today.”
I saw her relax in my peripheral vision. “Oh,” she said. “Well, that sucks. Your Lexus is way nicer than Rob’s old ute. So, which minor tropical island will you be purchasing with the proceeds?”
Instead of laughing, I grimaced. “Just paying off a lot of debt against it, actually.”
That was way too interesting for Sarah to leave it. “Oh, yeah? How much is ‘a lot’?”
My grimace deepened. “$48,000.”
She sucked air sharply through grit teeth. “Jesus!” she said, waving her hand at me. “Yeah, okay. Sell your car. I’ll take the train tomorrow.”
I dropped her outside Frost, wished her good luck for her meeting with Diane, and then went and parked under the hotel. It was quite full. I had to park all the way down the back as a result, and as I got out of my car and walked through rows and rows of other cars to get out, I found my eyes scanning them all, looking for his bottle green Lexus.
I didn’t know what I was going to do if I found it. I had a momentary vision of leaving a little note for Henry under the windscreen wiper—I’d been hanging around Bree too long, obviously—but I knew I couldn’t do that to him. I didn’t end up needing to make a decision, though, because his car wasn’t there. Good, I thought. It was better I didn’t find it. I was about to sell the engagement ring he’d lovingly bought me, I didn’t need any more reasons to feel shit about that.
There was a cluster of second-hand jewellers in the middle of the city, and I walked uphill through the bustle of morning peak hour to go sit in a café and wait for them to open. After I’d had a coffee—the breakfasts there were $19 and I couldn’t justify spending that much money on one meal anymore—I noticed there was a newsagent nearby that opened early, and to pass the time I wandered through it, flicking through magazines and photography journals, before I found myself in the gift card section.
I should buy something for Bree to congratulate her, I thought, lifting a celebratory card out to consider it. Immediately, I could see what a great idea that was: it was a nice thing to do anyway, and also, it gave me further motive to not be home for ages. I chose a card with a shooting star on the front of it, and the text ‘Believe’ inside. I could probably get my acrylics out and embellish it a little at home.
Feeling satisfied with my purchase, I went and waited outside the front of the jewellers that looked the most promising for the final ten minutes before it opened.
A greying, librarian-like woman eventually stopped in front of the door, leafing through her keyring. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said as she let us both in and pulled the roller shutters up. I had to wait for her to go around and turn the lights on in all the cabinets and uncover their contents before she came to stand behind the counter for me. “What can I do for you this morning?”
I took out the engagement ring from the ring box and put it in front of her. “I’m looking to sell this,” I told her.
Her eyes widened when she saw it, and then she looked me up and down. “You’ll need to provide ID and contact details,” she said, as if she thought that might be a problem for me. In answer, I took out my driver’s licence and put it on the counter. She glanced at it before picking up the ring. “Your mother’s?” she asked, holding a loupe up to her eye so she could get a closer look at the diamond.
I swallowed. “No. Mine,” I told her simply.
She looked at me for a moment, and then chuckled and went back to the ring. “Well, at least I know you’re not trying to sell me stolen goods,” she said. “Those sort of people always have some elaborate story about how they came into possession of such expensive jewellery…”
I shook my head. “I got it the usual way. I just can’t use it anymore.”
“Well, I’m sorry things didn’t work out,” she told me. “I’m sure when you’re a little older, you’ll meet Miss Right.” She paused for a few seconds, frowning at the ring, and then gave me a perplexed look. “This is a Frost diamond.” I think she wanted confirmation, so I nodded. “Do you have the valuation certificate?” I shook my head, and she sighed. “Alright,” she said, and then went back to examining it. “You can return Frost diamonds for a full refund, you know. For up to a year after purchase, it’s one of the fabulous things about that company.”
I sighed. That was exactly what Henry had said he didn’t want to do. “That’s not going to happen.”
“Yes, I’m sure it would be embarrassing having to do that,” she said, weighing the ring and making a note. “But when you hear my offer, you might reconsider.”
I frowned at her.
“I’ll give you $7,300 for it,” she said, putting the ring down on a velvet pad in front of her.
My jaw dropped. What! “But it cost $27,000!”
This was obviously a conversation she’d had many times. “Diamonds are like cars, Mr Lee. As soon as they leave the dealer, they drop a whole lot of value. Now, if you’re able to produce the valuation certificate with a Frost logo on it, I can probably go as far as nine, but no more. I need to resell it myself, you understand.”
I was still reeling. I mean, of course I knew how much diamonds were marked up, I used to sell them for a living… But it hadn’t even occurred to me for a second that they wouldn’t retain their value. Value retention was one of the hooks we used to sell them to people! Surely they wouldn’t drop that far?
She noted my expression. “Did you want to perhaps consider returning it after all?”
I grabbed the ring off the pad and my ID off the counter. Or I might try a fairer dealer, I thought. “Thank you, I think I will,” I said, and then hightailed out of there.
My jaw set tightly, I walked briskly across the road towards a couple of other dealers, weaving through traffic and trying not to get run over. As if I would accept $7,300 for a $27,000 ring, I thought as I avoided being mowed down by a cyclist in a hurry. Who in their right mind would do that? Honestly, the only people who were likely to undersell themselves so much were actually people trying to offload stolen goods!
I tried the next store, and the offer was $5,100, and then next store which said $8,000, and I kept going through them, one after the other, trying to get anything even close to the original value. I ran out of second-hand jewellers in the middle of the city and started to follow Google Maps out towards the fringes of it, eventually finding myself surrounded by sex stores, dodgy little restaurants with flashing neon lights and even dodgier ‘cash’ stores. ‘Money Lent Here!’ one of them announced. ‘Cheques cashed on the spot!’ promised another. Even the people walking around me had changed; it had gone from sharp business people to international students clutching Woollies bags on their way home, and the odd illegal busker. There was even an old guy staggering into traffic, hiding a bottle in a brown paper bag as he sang. Reflexively, I felt for the wallet in my pocket to make sure it was still there.
I was walking briskly past a ‘Fast Cash for Diamonds!!!’ sign, worrying about what happened when I reached the edge of the CBD, when it occurred to me that I might as well try one of these places. I stopped and looked at the shopfront; it had big, bold text all over it that said things like ‘WE BUY DIAMONDS FAST!’ and ‘SUPER DIAMOND BARGAIN CENTRE’. Based on that, I didn’t like my chances, but I thoug
ht I might as well try anyway. I walked inside.
It was a shallow store with wall-to-ceiling display cases all chock-full of gold and diamonds and all sorts of jewellery, but zero care had been put into how they were showcased; it was like they were all just being haphazardly stored behind the bars and glass. There were cameras everywhere inside, too, and I looked up nervously at one of them. It pivoted towards me as I moved.
The guy behind the counter stood up. He was probably my age—the age I really was, not the age I looked—and he was Asian, too. “Welcome to Super Diamond Bargain Centre,” he said unenthusiastically, hurriedly taking off his cap. I think someone might have told him he wasn’t supposed to wear it when he was serving customers.
“Hey,” I said neutrally, approaching him. “Guess what I’m here to do.”
He stared at me for a fraction of a second, and then laughed. “Ask directions?” he suggested, relaxing. “Seriously, that’s all people have been doing all morning. Oh, and there was an old guy who came in here and asked if he could use our toilet.” He gestured behind him. There was literally just a wall.
I liked him immediately. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m here to find out how much you’ll give me for this,” I put the ring on the pad in front of him.
“A man of business, I like it,” he told me, and picked it up. He used a loupe for a couple of seconds too, and then unhooked something that looked like a thick tablet stylus from his belt and held it against the diamond. It beeped, and gave him a reading. He held it so he could see it, his eyebrows going up. Not believing it, he tried again. Obviously he got the same reading because he started to hold the ring differently, and put the loupe to his eye again. “Where does a guy your age get something like this?” he wondered aloud.
I put my licence on the table, and he glanced at it. “Hah, you’re Korean as w—what.” He double-took, lifting the licence from the table and holding it so he could consider me against it. “Okay, the diamond is definitely real, but this is definitely fake. You are not 26,” he told me, and then considered the photo, looking impressed. “Where did you get this done? It’s really good.”
I knew where this was going to end up. “At the RMS like everyone else,” I said flatly. To save explaining why I looked so young, I emptied a few more cards onto the table in front of him. Some of them still had my old title on them.
He picked them up, reading them as he said, “How did you get them to believe you’re—whoa you’re a girl.” He looked up at me blankly. “And I’m an idiot. Okay, that explains how you got the ring. Nice one, Seung. You get one customer in here all morning and look how you’re doing. Okay…” he said, moving right along and pretending he hadn't just shoved his foot in his mouth. “Well, um, what did you want for this?”
Now we were talking. “Well, it was $27,000 retail…”
He stared at me. “Okay, well, I was thinking more in the $4000 range.” At my expression, he made a face. “Okay, maybe six or seven, but I can’t go higher than that.”
I exhaled. I wasn’t going to have more luck in here, after all. “That’s what everyone else says…” I told him.
“Yeah, but I’m nicer than all of them, so sell it to me,” he told me with a grin. When I didn't smile, he sobered, putting the ring on the pad in front of me. “Dude,” he said, and then looked mildly alarmed, “or, girl, or whatever. Fuck. Listen, I’ll be straight with you, okay? This diamond is really good, but it’s second hand. Some guy looking to buy his girl a brand new diamond can get one close enough to this one over there,” he pointed at the window to a diamond wholesaler on the corner.
I twisted to look and then scoffed. I recognised the brand—if you could even call it that—it was a bargain basement place with low-quality stock. “This one is much better quality than those.”
He nodded. “Yeah. You and I know that, but he doesn’t,” he said, pointing at a couple cooing over diamonds in their window, “and she doesn’t,” he pointed at a woman admiring rings across the road. “Regular people don’t know the difference between a $4000 ring and a $40,000 one. So the $40,000 ones are impossible to sell, at least at second-hand places like this. People come here for a bargain.”
“But I need at least $12,000,” I told him. “Can you tell me anywhere that would buy it for that price?”
He shook his head. “Sorry,” he said. “I mean, you could try eBay? People will try to scam you on there with a ring this good, though.”
I sighed at him. “Is there anything else you can think of?” I asked him. “Any other way I could get even close to what this thing is worth?”
“Well, if it’s insured, you could ‘lose’ it,” he suggested ever so casually, like he wasn’t recommending I commit insurance fraud. “Then you make even more by selling it to me on the sly later. Everybody wins.”
Who did he think I was, Andrej? If that was the only option, it looked like I wasn’t going to get the $12,000 I needed. I took the ring off the pad and put it back into its box. “Okay, well,” I told him. “Thanks for your honesty.”
“Sorry,” he repeated, looking a bit unhappy about having to say no to me.
I nodded stiffly, slowly walking outside again. I stood there in front of the shop for a second, surveying the street. If this guy was offering me $7,000, I very much doubted any of the other places around here were going to offer me any more than that. I took out my phone and checked Google Maps; there weren’t any other second-hand jewellers even close to here, I’d have to get my car and drive out into the suburbs. Bree was going to wonder where I was.
Well, what the fuck was I going to do? I couldn’t just drive around all day and get quote after quote, because all the places I’d been had given me basically the same price anyway. This ring that had cost Henry $27,000 was worth about $8,000, if that, or whatever these places would sell it for after they'd bought it from me. There was something so hurtful about that. The fact Henry had put so much of his salary into something valuable, something beautiful for me, for it to ultimately be worth so little felt… well, it felt like a metaphor. It probably served me right for trying to sell it anyway. Maybe this was a sign from the universe that I should hang onto it. At least to me it would always be worth more than $8,000.
I had no idea how I was going to pay Bree’s school fees, though. Maybe I wasn’t going to be able to. God, I didn’t want to break that news to her. I didn’t want to be the one to crack that smile of hers.
While I was clutching the ring box in my jacket pocket and trying to figure out what the fuck I was going to do to get the rest of those fees, someone stepped out beside me.
“Smoke?” ‘Seung’—I think he said—offered me, holding a packet of cigarettes towards me. I shook my head, and he put one into his mouth and lit it, thoughtfully blowing the smoke away from me when he exhaled. “Must be pretty special to you,” he said about how I was handling the ring box in my pocket.
“Yeah,” I said with gravity.
He turned to look at me for a moment. He didn’t say what he was thinking, though. He just had another puff of his cigarette. “Sorry I can’t buy it off you.”
I shook my head. “No, it’s okay. Part of me doesn’t want to sell it anyway,” I confessed. “I don’t know. I really need the money, but I don’t want to sell it. Go figure.”
Whatever I’d said made him stop mid-inhale, with the smoke seeping out of his open mouth. He gathered himself, and blew it out. This time, he was smiling. “Well, I’ve got news for you, friend,” he said. “That’s called ‘pawning’. And that, I might be able to help you with,” he tossed his half-smoked cigarette onto the sidewalk without giving it another glance and led me back inside the store. “Come on.”
I followed him, feeling a bit uneasy.
“How good are you to pay back a really terrible loan?” he asked over his shoulder as he took keys from his belt and undid one of the top display cases. He reached up on his tiptoes towards a satin ring bed, but only his fingertips touched it.
I leant over his head and passed it down to him. “I’m good for it,” I said, because I’d never not paid a bill in my life. I’d figure something out.
He gave me a bit of a weird look about how much taller I was, but he didn’t comment on it. “Yeah, but are you good for it-good for it?” he asked instead, taking the satin bed over to the counter and pulling a few rings out of it. “Because Dad uses really fucking scary debt collectors if you’re not.”
That sounded familiar. A rock formed in my stomach. “No, I’m good for it.”
He stopped what he was doing for a second to look me in the eyes. “Because I’m about to give you a really shitty loan. You okay with that? Like, how much do you need the money?”
I closed my jaw. I’d come this far. “I need it,” I told him resolutely. “Give me the loan.”
“Okay,” he said with a grin, getting back to what he was doing. “Good answer. Can you put this back?” He handed me the satin ring bed. I blinked, and then put it back in the top case. He locked it after me. There were a series of gold rings on the counter in front of him, and he held his hand out in a ‘gimme’ motion. Without thinking, I passed the ring box to him, and he took it, opened it—his brow dipped as he caught sight of the inscription—and then handed it back to me, putting Henry’s ring into a little plastic bag and writing a number on it. He wrote the number on a carbon-sheeted invoice pad next to him, and then put the rest of the rings into another bag and did the same.
“What are those for?” I asked, since their numbers were going on my ticket.
“Those are the other rings you’re pawning so I can give you $12,000,” he said with a dead straight face.
A tightness began to form in my chest. This was… yeah. This was dodgy. I pushed that feeling aside, though. Did I need the money or not? “What are the terms?”
He shrugged. “We don’t really do terms. Just pay the money. Can I see your ID again, please?” I handed it to him, and he took a photo of it with his mobile, and of both sides of my credit card and my visa debit, too, and then he ran them through a hand-held machine. “You want it over six months or a year?” he asked.
Flesh & Blood Page 33
