Wool of the Prince-- Chapter 26

Chapter 26

~806 words

The elevator dinging, Jay and Cabot stepped into the ground-floor lobby. The floor was polished white tiles that reflected the bright lights set into the ceiling. Studying this floor was Fleta. She looked like she had come to terms with the monstrous size of the city, and was now bored out of her skull. When she Jay’s reflection in the floor approaching her, Fleta looked up. Jay leaned in close, as if he was going to help her up off the hard wooden bench.

“Why didn’t you run away?” Jay asked in a whisper. He was glad she had stayed, but he had worked hard to convince Cabot that it would be better if Fleta didn’t come with them to the gold appraisal.

“I wouldn’t know where to go, or how to get back home,” she whispered back with a shrug.

They searched for an alley seedy enough to contain someone who would be willing to buy several hundred thousand dollars worth of gold from total strangers. They didn’t find their deal from a shady guy in a trench coat, however. A man sitting on a bench was talking on a Bluetooth headset, gesturing agitatedly with his hands. He was dressed in a rumpled gray suit.

“I’ll find a good investment,” the man said to whoever was on the other side of the phone. “There’s gotta be something we can do to save this ship.” He paused, dropping his head in shame. “Yes, I understand. I will do that.” He ended the call and sighed, slouching back against the bench’s backrest and rubbing his forehead absently.

Cabot had watched this all with the eyes of an eagle. He slid onto the bench, trying to act casual, and said, “I heard that. Tough times.”

“You said it,” the man agreed.

“I’m Cabot,” the still-red-cloaked man said, giving his award-winning smile and sticking out his hand.

“Oh, I’m William.” He shook.

“Nice to meet you, William. Say I’ve got an investment for you.”

Fear crept into William’s eyes. He thinks he’s being scammed, thought Jay. I guess I would be wary of this guy too. Jay stepped forward. “Pa,” he said in a hopefully-foreign accent, “when are we going to get home? I miss Ma, and the weather here is so different.” He coughed for emphasis.

Cabot glared at Jay, telling him that his acting was way over-done, but Fleta stepped forward too. “It’s okay Jay,” she said, trying to copy his accent, “we’ll figure it out somehow.”

By this time Cabot was holding his head in his hands. William must have been more desperate than he had appeared at first, because he clapped a hand on Cabot’s shoulder, saying, “And what would that proposition be?”

“I’ve got some gold here—real gold, mind you—but we can’t sell it because we’ve lost our important… documents of identification,” said Cabot.

“And how much is it worth?”

Cabot looked at Jay who said, “At least fifty thousand dollars. It’s a little over three pounds of pure gold. It’s certified too.”

The man rubbed his chin. “And what would you be asking for such a thing?”

Thoughts flew through Jay’s mind: transportation, food, shelter, other things that might come up. Plane tickets were expensive, and so were hotels. But wait! They’d need identification for both. Jay groaned a little bit. Cabot was looking at him, failing at seeming in charge of the situation. Jay thought some more. How could he get to Hollywood without identification? Boat? No there’s not a direct route. Bus? Jay had always hated busses. Train. He could probably get a train ticket without identification, or at least it would be easier for him to get someone else to buy it for him. Why didn’t I think of it sooner? We appeared right near the train station!

The man’s gaze shifted between Jay and Cabot. He seemed unsure as to answer. Jay finally spoke out: “Enough for three train tickets from here to Hollywood, plus two thousand.”

The man whipped out a smartphone and fiddled with it for a second, checking ticket prices. “Round-trip?” he asked.

Jay looked at Cabot. “Do we have to come back here to go back home?” he asked, trying to be as specific as he could be without using “portal.”

Cabot shook his head.

“No, no round-trip,” Jay answered.

“Then you’re offering me about fifty thousand dollars in return for about three thousand dollars? I can’t believe this.”

“How about this then,” Cabot said, pulling out the heavy bag of gold. “Pick any orb from this bag, and go have it appraised, sell it, whatever. You’ll see that it’s real gold. You come back here with three thousand, and we’ll give you the rest. Deal?” Cabot thrust out his hand again.

The man contemplated a moment before following suit. “Deal.”