Ghostly Writes Anthology 2016
Page 34
A well-dressed, distinguished older gentleman had been loitering near the jewelry counter for nearly an hour, much to the annoyance of assistant manager Toriano Wright. When the man first arrived, Toriano welcomed him eagerly, excited at the prospect of making a big sale and a generous commission. Toriano could tell this man was well-off; he was wearing a designer suit and had arrived in a Mercedes-Benz.
“Can I help you find something?” Toriano said, putting on his most winning smile.
“I just want to look for a while, Mr. Wright, if you don’t mind,” the man said. Toriano wondered how the man knew his name as he had not yet introduced himself.
“Not at all, sir. Let me know if you need assistance.” Another fifteen minutes passed, and as lunch time approached, the man had neither asked for assistance nor shown interest in any particular item. He just lingered near the counter and stared, as if trying to figure something out. That counter contained what Mr. Reubens, the store owner, referred to as ‘The Star,’ an eighteen-carat white gold ring with an emerald-cut, two-and-a-half carat ruby that was surrounded by diamonds totaling one carat. It had been in stock for as long as Toriano had been with Reubens’ Jewelers, and Mr. Reubens had promised anyone who could sell it a bonus of two-thousand dollars plus the usual twenty percent commission. But for the twelve years Toriano had been working at the store, many customers had taken an initial interest but no one wanted to buy it, not even on credit. Toriano had been hoping the customer would take an interest in ‘The Star,’ but after nearly an hour and a half, those prospects were glum. “By the way,” Toriano said to the man, “with whom do we have the pleasure of doing business today?”
“I am Mark Nelson.” As Mr. Nelson extended a hand, Toriano scanned his memory for the source of the uneasy feeling the mention of the name gave him. “I understand you are ready for lunch. When you come back, I would like to talk business. Will that be acceptable?”
“Mr. Nelson, I wouldn’t want to hold you up. I can assist you now,” Toriano said even though his stomach was growling.
“No, please. I may be a while. Go ahead and eat lunch. I will come back in thirty minutes.” Mr. Nelson left the store in the blink of an eye. How did he leave so fast?
Toriano went to the back of the store where Connie, the bench jeweler, was studiously repairing a gold chain.
“Hi, Tito,” she said cheerfully.
“I’m going to Salvador’s for tacos. Want anything?” he asked.
Connie was his ex-fiancée. He had left her to marry his current wife, Linzi, to whom he felt more attracted and compatible. Connie had been distraught over their break-up, and Toriano knew she still carried a torch for him. He still considered her a close friend and they still had to work together in any event. Being kind and considerate to her without leading her on was a daily balancing act.
“Sure. Two beef tacos would be great. Thanks.” Connie reached for her wallet, but Toriano stopped her with a hand gesture.
“I’ll take care of it,” he said. “I’m closing the store for thirty minutes.”