Chapter 45
ELIZABETH NUNEZ—LIZZIE to her friends—looked up at the older man behind the counter. She purposely tried to use her “puppy eyes,” hoping she might tap into some paternal feelings inside the pawnbroker.
The shop was crammed with beat-up electronic tablets, bins full of old DVDs, and a case with cheap jewelry.
Like a lot in the South of Market area—SoMa—the pawnshop sat next to a low-rent hotel that helped ease the stress on homeless families.
That was reflected in the number of video games and kids’ toys on the shelves.
The idea of having to pawn your child’s games made Lizzie sad.
She said, “But these are real pearl earrings set in gold.” She swept her long black hair out of her face. She wanted the man to see her clearly. It often worked with other men. This guy might have too much gray in his hair to care.
“I already told you, these are synthetic pearls set in gold. I can give you thirty bucks. That’s the most I’ll go. All I’m gonna do is melt down the setting.” He scratched the stubble on his chin and looked at her for an answer.
Lizzie’s mind raced. If she wanted to return to the room she used to rent, she needed another $320. She hated parting with a gift her father had given her, but she didn’t like the idea of living on the street either. She’d had a rough eight months in San Francisco.
She had about ten dollars left over from the money she got from the commercial she’d filmed a few months ago, and a little bit left from the time when she’d needed to eat and finally gave in to the diner cook who wanted oral sex.
She tried not to think about that, but the free food and the money had helped her make it a few more days in the big city.
The man behind the counter said, “Look, sweetheart, I’m about to close. Do you want to sell the earrings or not?”
She took the deal.
Outside the store, Lizzie turned to see a tall man on the sidewalk not far from her. He was cute but looked to be around forty, and she noticed a hospital-green asthma inhaler in his right hand. He smiled and said, “Hi.”
She said, “My little brother uses an inhaler just like that. He has asthma.”
“Yeah, mine’s more for a sense of well-being. I hardly ever have to use it. But it makes me feel better to have it in my hand.” He stuck the inhaler into his pocket. “You look like you could use a good meal. Would you like to join me for dinner at one of the places a few blocks down?”
She couldn’t say it out loud. All she could do was nod her head.