Chapter 10 Pawn Stars & Red Flags
Pawn Stars however, I would hate to mix business with pleasure.”
Hal wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “C’mon now, don’t be boring. What’s business without pleasure?”
Kat abruptly pulled back the duffel bags. “You know, on second thought, maybe I’ll call the police myself—and while I’m at it, report a certain pawnshop broker for looking the other way on stolen goods instead of verifying the original owner, as required by state regulations.”
“Now, now, missy, no need to get your knickers in a twist. I’ll stick to my end of the deal. Leave your stuff here. I’ll keep it locked up and until then—”
“We never spoke!” they both said, eyeing each other warily.
Kat nodded and left the pawnshop, walking toward a coffee shop a mile down the road. “Laila, can you hear me?” she beseeched in her brain. “Are you coming?” Kat needed to speak to her again. She needed Laila to know she was trying to make it right.
Entering the Awakening Coffee shop, she ordered a Matcha Yuja and sat at the corner table waiting for it to be made. Drumming her fingers against the table, she reached for her phone and realized she hadn’t looked at it all day. There were no notifications, no likes, no trolls leaving disparaging comments. Her phone was a silent zen of nothingness. It was oddly calming.
Looking at Laila on Instagram, Kat realized she needed to create a fake profile if she was going to reach out to her again. Reluctantly uploading an old photo, she reclaimed her username handle Kat_Kares. Strange that the persona no longer seemed to fit her.
Calling Laila once again, Kat closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and prayed that Laila would pick up the phone.
July 19
Chicago
Laila Malik
Closing her eyes and resting her head against the seat of the town car heading to the airport, Laila tried to ignore the tension that was emanating from Gabriel. Feeling her phone vibrate, she swiped it open with bleary eyes.
“Where are you?” the voice of an outraged teenager met her ears.
“I beg your pardon,” Laila replied, her voice coming out frostier than she intended.
“Sorry, I just—I let you know who took your things, and you’re taking forever to get here,” the same petulant voice continued.
Laila sat straight up as she realized who she was talking to. Gabriel looked at her quizzically. She quickly put the phone on speaker. “Kat, is that you?” Laila asked.
They heard a sigh and then a quick whisper of, “Yeah, it is.”
“Kat, Gabriel and I are on our way to LA right now. We’ll be there in five hours tops. Where are you? We can meet you and straighten this whole thing out—”
“Gabriel? Oh my God! Why are you bringing your stalker neighbor with you?”
Trying to keep the conversation on track, “Gabriel is my neighbor and good friend,” Laila corrected.
“Bruh, dude is like madly in love with you. Why bring your simp with you? That’s such a drag.” Gabriel narrowed his eyes at the phone and curled his lips in distaste.
“Anyway, you’re coming so late!” Kat continued. “Joseph is meeting the Haitian militia tomorrow—”
Laila scrambled to find a notebook and pen from her carry-on tote bag. “Haitian militia, what is going on? Who are you with? What are you a part of?”
“Don’t worry, it’s cool. I’m going to have the police raid the whole thing. But your stuff might be held as a result, so I thought if you got here sooner, you could get your stuff back.”
“I can meet you tomorrow morning,” Laila said hastily, trying to rectify things. “Just let me know when and where.”
She heard Kat pause and sigh. “Are you going to bring Mr. Rico Suave?”
Laila bit her lip to keep from laughing at Gabriel’s murderous expression. “Not if you don’t want me to. I can leave him at the hotel.”
“Um...no. It’s fine. I owe him an apology anyway. I’m glad he’s alive. Is he wonky though? Was there any permanent damage from when we—anyway. Alright, tomorrow. I’ll meet you at the Good Stuff Diner near Redondo Beach.” And with that, Kat abruptly hung up the phone.
Laila struggled to piece it all together. On an old napkin, she had written: “Haitian Militia, Good Stuff Diner, Redondo Beach.” She gasped as realization hit. “Redondo Beach—Gabriel, my wallet! They found out about me from my wallet. I left it there the night I left your art exhibit. That’s how they know me.”
Gabriel nodded tersely. “Yes, that makes sense.”
Laila shrank into her corner of the town car, subdued by his lack of enthusiasm. Her mind drifted back to all the times she had excitedly shared something with Jay, only to be met with indifference.
Maybe it was her. Maybe she bored men. Maybe she wasn’t meant to be with a man at all.
As Laila stared out the window, Gabriel shifted beside her. She felt him clear his throat, a quiet but deliberate sound, like he had rehearsed what he was about to say.
“I just wanted to clarify—I am not in love with you.”
The words landed heavy between them.
All at once, she felt foolish. Foolish for the flutter in her chest every time he looked at her. Foolish for thinking, even for a second, that this—whatever this was—could be anything more. She pressed her nails into her palm, willing herself to stay composed.
“All I want is to make sure you don’t get hurt on this trip,” Gabriel continued, his voice careful but firm. “After that, we can both go our separate ways.”
Laila swallowed hard, her throat tight. Her vision blurred, but she refused to blink, refused to let even a single tear fall.
Of course, he wasn’t in love with her.
She inhaled slowly, nodded, then forced her voice to sound even. “Yes, of course. That makes perfect sense.”
She could feel him looking at her, waiting, but she kept her gaze locked on the passing streets, watching the city blur past like something she could never quite hold onto.
July 20
Los Angeles
Kat Kar
The morning was a blur, and her outfit did not make sense. Kat blew out a breath in exasperation—she had an hour to get herself together. Scrolling through Laila’s Instagram feed, Kat stared at the mirror with a scowl. She wanted to look chic and effortless. But the tennis skirt with a cardigan felt too preppy, while the leggings and sweatshirt felt too casual.
Turning up the music in her headphones, she studied her wardrobe as Bhad Bhabie blasted in her ears:
Yeah, I’ll hit a bitch
‘Cause I got nothin’ to lose
Bought it all cash, I got somethin’ to prove
And I’m just fuckin’ with ‘em, I got nothin’ to do
Runnin’ through these checks
Like the ones on my shoes
That’s right. Kat Kar was a bad bitch. Coming to LA with only $500 in her pocket. She had made friends, found a place to live. Was it perfect? No. Had she built it herself? Damn right, she had. Foraging through her closet, she pulled out a mini grey pin-striped dress with white lapels, pairing that with an imitation pearl necklace and sneakers, she felt ready to take on the world. Lip-syncing the words, she grooved to the music and began to iron, only to be interrupted by a tap on her shoulder.
Startled, she almost dropped the iron before taking out her earbud. “Kat,” Christian shouted, “Where’s your money from yesterday? We didn’t hear you come in last night.”
Kat nodded, prepared with an answer, immediately summoning a few tears. “I didn’t know how to tell you guys. But you were right. I was walking to another pawn shop when these two guys came out of nowhere and stole the duffel bags.”
“What?” Christian said, shocked. “Sit down, tell me everything.”
“I would, but I have to go,” Kat swallowed. “I have a job interview.”
Christian eyed the FashionNova dress. “Okay, what did the guys look like? Were they Black? Hispanic? Maybe we can anonymously report them.”
Kat’s eyes went wide, realizing Christian wasn’t about to let this go. Stalling for time, she stammered, “Oh wow, Christian. Really? You’re just going to assume their race like that? A little unconscious bias, much?”
Christian blinked, caught off guard. “What are you talking about?”
Kat smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Okay, first, check your privilege. And second, they were white... um, white men, specifically. And they wore a lot of khaki.”
“What? That makes no sense. Why would they rob you in the middle of the day in Inglewood?” Christian sat down at the edge of Kat’s settee, now more alarmed.
Kat shrugged breezily. “I guess that’s how the rich stay rich. But yeah, you two have fun meeting Smoke today. I’m off to this job interview, and then I’ll run some errands.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about the job interview?” Christian ran her fingers through her hair distractedly. Hair that could use a thorough washing and deep conditioning, Kat noticed.
“Well, there’s a lot of things we don’t tell each other anymore,” Kat responded with a tight smile.
Christian looked at her and grimaced. “Look, I know things have been less than ideal, what with Joseph moving in—”
“Without my consent or consideration,” Kat pointed out.
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. Things have been hectic. But once we get today sorted, maybe we can all look for a place together. Something bigger. We’re going to be rich, very soon!” Christian clapped her hands excitedly.
Kat smiled sardonically. “Who’s ‘we,’ Christian? You’ve handed everything over to him.” Before Christian could issue another fake apology, Kat rushed on. “But you were right all along. I do need a job. Social media isn’t good for me. So if you’ll excuse me, I need to get ready and you need to go handle some gangsters. We both have a busy day ahead of us.”
Christian nodded, slowly walking out of Kat’s nook. Before leaving, she turned around. “I do love you, you know.”
Kat focused on her ironing and nodded her head, clenching her jaw to prevent her voice from wobbling. She managed to croak out, “I know you think that’s love.”
July 20
Los Angeles
Laila Malik
“My wife’s name is Maria Sofia. I say is because she stays with me no matter where I go. She is the love of my life. I carry her in my heart always.” Her mind inadvertently stitched together his words from yesterday . “I just wanted to clarify that I’m not in love with you.” Laila replayed the words over and over again, searching for some overlooked nuance that would make them sting less. But they remained sharp, embedded within her like tiny glass shards.
She had returned to The Portofino Hotel. This time she wasn’t lying to Jay. She also wasn’t bubbling over with excitement to see Gabriel. The waves continued to crash against the shore, the sunlight glinted off the water, making the air shimmer. A slight shadow marred her view, and she realized she was no longer alone.
She smelled the hint of his aftershave as he sat down next to her, his arms stretched across the back of the bench, the tips of his fingers a few inches away from her shoulder. He wasn’t in love with her, and yet here he was sitting so close that she could feel his warmth.
“ Buenos días, preciosa ,” the words rumbled out from his chest. She continued to stare out at the sea, determined not to let him see his effect on her.
“Good morning,” she responded coolly. Laila curled her fingers around the bottom of the bench and looked down, unsure of what to say.
They sat like this for a few moments, both hesitant about what the other wanted or needed. In the utter stillness that followed, a butterfly landed between them. The vibrant orange wings with the delicate black veins fluttered slightly before coming to a rest. Laila held her breath, afraid to move.
“Well, that guy is a long way from home,” Gabriel murmured.
“How do you mean?” Laila whispered, slightly in awe.
“If you ever want to find me, follow the trail of butterfly wings,” Gabriel quoted softly.
When she looked at him quizzically, he clarified further, “They hail from my hometown of Morelia, Michoacán. They’ll migrate back in the fall. They’re a wonder...” he trailed off as the monarch butterfly took flight once again towards the ocean’s horizon. He glanced at her again, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “They’re like me, always longing to go home.”
Feeling her relax slightly, Gabriel continued to speak. “Is there a reason we are not going to the police right now to turn this girl in? She has essentially admitted to everything, I can easily identify her. We’ve accomplished what we set out to do.”
“I know, but there’s more to the story here, don’t you think? I mean, she was rambling about the Haitian militia; she clearly reached out to us because she needs help. If we’re in a position to help her—”
“She’s not a victim,” Gabriel said, his voice low and firm. “Her friend knocked me out with a twenty-pound vase. That’s not someone looking for help—it’s someone who’s desperate enough to cross the line, with no remorse.”
Laila winced at the memory of him being unconscious and bloody. She cleared her throat. “Kat is a young South Asian girl. I’m not saying we’re the same—because we most definitely are not—but I know what it’s like to be young and have very few resources. Sometimes we make the worst choices because there’s no one there to talk through those big decisions.”
Gabriel eyed her incredulously. “So now you’re signing up to be her big sister?”
Laila turned away from him. “I’m going to the diner to meet with her. Again, you can accompany me or not. If I do decide to turn her over to the police, I’m sure you can identify her through a zoom call or something.”
Gabriel cracked his knuckles in frustration. “I said I would keep you safe. And I won’t go back on my word.”
“Fine, then we should get going, no?” Laila stood, brushing sand off her dress. Her resolve was steady now, even if the rest of her wasn’t.
Gabriel followed her lead, his presence a quiet reassurance despite everything. When he held out his arm, she hesitated before looping her hand through the crook of his elbow.
“Shall we, my lady?” As he looked down at her, his smile not quite reaching his eyes, she had the strangest sensation that he was saying goodbye.