BAMBI

XXIV

A/N: Hola! I want to remind everyone to check out the Holiday Story Exchange by BluebellaMortimer . The due date for story ideas is coming up on December 1st. I know a few people already have their stories in, but the more the merrier. Also, I encourage people who wouldn't consider themselves "writers" to participate, it's going to be a lot of fun. Check out the Holiday Story Exchange book for all the rules, guidelines, and deadlines. 💜

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XXIV
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I stepped out of the warmth of Paisley Park into the rapidly chilling afternoon air that whirled around the parking lot, creating small dust devils that terrorized the parked cars. I should've taken that as a sign to turn around and abandon my trip to St Paul, but decided to just get my search over with.

Climbing into my car, I looked up at the stark white building one last time before pulling away. By the time I'd return, the sun would be set and the bright purple pyramid would be illuminating the sky surrounding Prince's sanctuary.

Traffic on the way to St Paul was horrible, the usual thirty minute drive took almost an hour. Although I wasn't really expecting to find my jewelry, the quest would give me the final closure I needed to end that chapter of my life with Janet.

As I sat in the car in stop and go traffic, I reflected on my time with her. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that our whole relationship consisted of me enabling her. When I gave her money, she bought drugs. When I gave her a place to stay and food to eat, she failed to find a job or do anything productive with her life. It was doomed long before Prince came into the picture.

Once I reached my exit, I drove up and down Rice Street until I found an area with a concentration of pawn shops. There were six that I had to weed through to see if they even had my stuff and if they did, I had to attempt to get it back.

The blustery windstorm in Chanhassen had been mirrored in St Paul. Fallen leaves barreled down the street where I parked while I stood outside of my car fighting to keep my hair in some sort of order.

The first pawn shop I entered was manned by an old biker dressed in leather from head to toe. His head was bald and shiny and a long white beard hung from his face. I couldn't help but let out a small chuckle when I noticed that his name tag read "Cueball."

I spoke with Cueball for a couple of minutes but it was obvious that his establishment hadn't been the lucky receivers of my stolen property. So I moved on to the next one, which was only two doors down, in the same strip of stores.

As luck would have it, when I started talking to the owner, a clean shaven younger man with a thick French-Canadian accent, he seemed very familiar with the items I described. He also remembered Janet vividly, saying she smelt of Captain Morgan and lost hope. 

The owner, Olivier, was very reasonable. He said without a police report, he couldn't do too much but he would sell the jewelry back to me for what he paid for it. I knew I should've filed a police report, but given the history between Janet and I, I just didn't have the heart.

So, as much as I didn't want to pay for my own jewelry, I didn't really have a choice. Olivier brought out a ziplock bag that held my belongings and I gave him $400.00. My hand shook while I handed him the money, the anger I felt when I opened the half empty jewelry box resurfaced right there in that pawn shop.