Rarities Unlimited 04 - The Color of Death

the kind drag queens wear. The skirt almost made up for it, though. It was so short he could see the bottom of her butt cheeks. Or his, more likely.
    Ni modo. Seguro liked lovers both ways, as long as he got to be the pitcher.
    The door closed, shutting out the impatient horns, the stink of badly tuned engines, and the cascading accents of Spanish from six nations. Through the heat and dust-glazed windows, tired palm trees swayed over the worn cinder-block buildings lining the crowded street.
    A heavy floral perfume washed over Seguro as the woman leanedagainst the counter. Her makeup was as bold as her dress. Her eyes were the blue of a rare clear day in muggy Florida.
    “Buen dia, señorita,” Seguro said informally, giving her the thorough leer that his culture and her dress required. “¿Como le puedo ayudar?”
    “English, if you can, por favor, ” she said, pronouncing the two Spanish words as though they were English. She had a husky, almost hoarse voice. “My español sucks.”
    “ Sí, how can I help you?”
    “Someone told me you give the best price around for loose stones.”
    He hesitated.
    “You know,” she said earnestly, “loose stones—gems that aren’t set? Do you understand?”
    “ Sí, yes, I understand. Who told you that?”
    “Someone in L.A. Los Angeles. My boyfriend’s from there. His buddy said you had a cousin that had a cousin that…” She shrugged, making everything sway from top to bottom. “My boyfriend’s not a Santos but he did time with one, if you get what I mean.”
    Seguro grinned and nodded quickly, accepting her explanation. Most of the contacts a man needed to succeed in life were already in his extended family. The rest he could make in the joint. “ Sí . I know. I meet some people that way.”
    “Damn useful,” she agreed. With both hands she lifted her big canvas tote and smacked it onto the counter. “I got some shit you’ll like.”
    He made an all-purpose sound and idly wondered if she was really a he. No sign of a beard shadow, but it was hard to be sure underneath all that makeup. In any case, many of los maricones had their beards permanently removed.
    She pawed through the tote and pulled out an antacid bottle. Before Seguro took the plastic antacid container, he spread a worn piece of dark cloth on the countertop. Then he uncapped the bottle and poured the contents out on the cloth. Instead of the rush ofsmall stones he had expected, a big, thumb-sized rectangle of deep blue bounced out onto the counter. He grabbed the gem and centered it on the dark cloth. His breath came in.
    And stayed.
    “I want fifty thousand,” she said.
    His head snapped up. The blue eyes looking across the counter at him were lighter than the big stone but just as hard.
    “We see” was all Seguro said.
    “The sapphire is worth a lot more than fifty grand.”
    “To someone, yes. To me? I no think so.” He shrugged fluidly. “I see.”
    She tapped long, stoplight-red acrylic fingernails on the counter. “Fine. You see. But hurry it up. I got a plane to catch. Big vacation in Aruba with my boyfriend.”
    “Ah, I hear it is pretty there.”
    “I’ll send you a card.”
    Seguro pulled out a jeweler’s loupe and began looking at the large blue stone. Except for the occasional impatient tap of fake fingernails on the counter, it was quiet in the shop.
    “Well?” she said when he finally looked up.
    “I need a friend to look at it.”
    She put her hands on her narrow hips in what could have been impatience or challenge. “Like I said, I’m in a hurry.”
    “I regret, but…” He shrugged again.
    “What can you give me now ?”
    “Two thousand.”
    “Thirty.”
    “Two thousand, one hundred.”
    “This is bullshit. The stone’s worth two hundred thousand, easy.”
    “Then take it and sell it for that sum.”
    “Fifteen thousand.”
    “Two thousand, one hundred and fifty,” he said patiently. “I am sorry, Señor —er, Señorita —but I am no expert. I already say double what I should because you are a fine person that knows thecousin of my cousin from the joint. I can do no more. I am very sorry.”
    “Well, fuck! I want it in cash. Right now.”
    “But of course. Wait here for me, yes?”
    “Just hurry up. You aren’t the only pawnshop in Little Miami.”
    Seguro went to the small room in the back of the pawnshop, locked the door behind him, and went to the safe. Hurriedly he counted hundreds into a pile, then added a fifty-dollar bill. When