Page 31 of Dick

EIGHT

Dick

THERE was no way I was going to let him fuck me on the diamond, regardless of how I got my hands on it. “I don’t give a fuck what your little wholesale chart says. It’s not a wholesale piece. Look at it. My sources tell me it’s 10.22 carats, D color, and IF clarity. It’s a gem, no pun intended.”

“And there’s no laser inscription,” I added. “An easy piece to move.”

“Let me make a call to an investor,” he said.

I shrugged. “Make all the calls you want.”

He walked to the back of the store and returned in a few minutes. His face was covered in a guilty smirk. Apparently, his call went well. “I need to take the stone to the back. I should just be a moment.”

“You’re not taking that rock anywhere.”

He was five-foot tall, bald, and walked like a duck. With his jeweler’s glasses over his eyes and his eyeglasses propped on top of his head, he returned a rather confused look.

“I’d like to inspect it with a scope. The refraction of--”

“Bring your scope up here. Or take me back there. Either one.”

He pressed the switch on the wall, activating the electronic door lock and securing the front door. With the stone cradled in his hand like he was carrying a pressure sensitive bomb, he turned toward the rear of the store. “Follow me.”

After a rather lengthy inspection under a microscope, he removed the diamond, placed it to the side, and sighed.

“I’d go $2,500,000.”

I shook my head. “I’d take $3,000,000.”

“It’s…I…” he stammered.

“It’s what? I tell you what it is. It’s fucking huge. It’s flawless. And it’s one of a kind. Wholesale is $2,245,100 at 10 carats. At 10.22, it’s $2,295,000. But, like I said…”

He picked up the diamond, admired it, and placed it on the folded cloth. “$2,750,000.”

“Three.”

“But…”

“But nothing,” I said. “I’ll toss that motherfucker in the Colorado river before I sell it for anything less.”

He quickly reached for the stone and covered it with his hand. “You certainly will not. I’ll go three. It’ll take me several days to get the funds. Investors, you know.”

I fought against the urge to smile at the $2,000,000 profit I would make from the transaction. “Understood.” I tilted my head toward the diamond. “Give me the rock and call me when you’re ready.”

He set the jeweler’s glasses aside. “I’d rather keep it here. In the safe.”

“I bet you would.” I pointed to the stone. “Call me when you’re ready.”

He reluctantly handed me the stone, his eyes glued to it the entire time. He grimaced as I wrapped it in the cloth and shoved it into my pocket.

“Three days at the most. Maybe two,” he said as he reached for the door switch.

I caught a reflection in the mirror behind him that looked like a white Nissan GT-R Nismo driving by. My asshole puckered. I spun around and scanned the parking lot.

Nothing.

Although I was rarely nervous about anything, I told myself that was the case. I must have been nervous. After all, I had three million reasons to be nervous.

“I’ll be waiting for your call.”

“Very well,” he said with a smile.

I turned toward the front door just as the magnetic lock clicked, unlocking it for free passage. I pushed the door open, walked to my car, and reached for the door handle.

A sharp pain shot down my spine, followed by a blinding light, then everything went black.