Okay, well, that’s a little insulting.
“Seriously?” I ask, glaring at him. “Don’t rip me off here.”
“Hundred and fifty, tops.”
“Maybe I’ll go somewhere else,” I tell him.
I extend my hand out for the ring, but he doesn’t give it back to me. He’s still looking down at it with interest.
“It’s been inscribed.”
I cringe, hoping he isn’t going to read the inscription out loud.
“You belong to me,” he intones right on cue.
I do my best to keep a straight face, although my insides are squirming from shame. “I’ll let it go for two hundred,” I mutter.
“Bad split, huh?”
“You could say that. Bad everything, really.”
“You got a name?”
I frown. “Doesn’t everyone?”
He looks at me balefully, waiting for my answer. I’m starting to get a little nervous. A little more nervous, I should say.
So, stupidly, I give him an honest answer.
“Saoirse,” I say, but I catch myself at the very last second and substitute my married name with my maiden name. “Saoirse Connelly.”
“Hm.”
“I’m actually in kind of a hurry, so if you could…”
“Fine, fine,” he concedes. “Two hundred then.” He pulls out some cash from the counter below and counts out two hundred in a handful filthy bills. “There you go.”
“Thanks.”
Then I get the hell out of there as fast as I can. I hail a cab, and I only allow myself to relax when I’m finally en route to the airport.
The driver is a morose man who doesn’t look very friendly. But when he speaks, I realize his tone carries all the cheer that’s lacking in his face.
“Airport, huh?” he asks merrily. “Where are you off to?”
Where am I off to?
It’s funny considering how long I’ve been planning this escape.
Practically speaking, it’s been years. My whole life, even.
But I suppose I can only really count the last twelve months. That’s when I started actively planning. When I started squirrelling away money, laying the foundation for my eventual disappearance.
And through it all, had I really given much thought to where I would go?
Not quite. Not consciously.
But deep down, I had.