He approached the counter a polite smile, pointing at the bracelet displayed in the case. I’d like to see that one, please. His voice was steady, calm, the way his mother had always taught him to speak when dealing with people like this.
Margaret, however, didn’t move. She simply folded her arms, tilting her head slightly. Are you sure? she asked, her voice dripping with condescension.
That one’s quite expensive. Jolin’s stomach tightened, but he forced himself to keep his expression neutral. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet, showing the neatly folded cash he had worked so hard to earn.
I’m sure, he said firmly. I have the money right here. Margaret’s eyes flicked to the cash, her lips curling slightly as if the sight of it offended her.
But instead of relaxing, she seemed to tense up even more. Her fingers twitched near the phone resting on the counter. She didn’t move to grab the bracelet.
Instead she let out a low, almost amused scoff. And where exactly did you get all that money? Her voice was casual, but the accusation beneath it was sharp as a blade. Jolin stiffened.
Excuse me? he asked, though he already knew where this was going. Margaret arched an eyebrow. It’s just a lot of cash for someone your age, she said, her gaze never leaving his face.
Did you, I don’t know, borrow it from someone? Maybe find it lying around. Jolin’s jaw clenched. He inhaled slowly, willing himself to stay calm.
He had done nothing wrong. I work at Parker’s Coffeehouse, he said, enunciating each word carefully. I saved up for this.
Margaret made a soft noise of disbelief, shaking her head slightly. Mum, she hummed, tapping her nails against the counter. And you expect me to believe that? Jolin swallowed the anger rising in his throat.
Yes, he said flatly. Margaret let out a dry chuckle, like she had heard a particularly ridiculous joke. Well, I suppose I should be flattered you thought you could fool me, she said, finally moving toward the display case.
But I’ve been working here a long time, kid. I know when something doesn’t add up. Jolin’s hands curled into fists at his sides.
He forced himself to unclench them. This was supposed to be simple. He hadn’t come here to be humiliated.
Can I just see the bracelet please? he asked, his patience thinning. Margaret sighed as if he were inconveniencing her, but she finally pulled out the velvet tray and placed it on the counter. Be careful with it, she warned, her tone sharp.
It’s worth more than what you probably make in a year. Jolin gritted his teeth but didn’t say anything. He reached out, gently picking up the bracelet, feeling the cool silver against his fingertips.
It was perfect. Exactly what he had imagined. But just as he turned it slightly, admiring the way the charms dangled, the smooth metal slipped between his fingers.
The bracelet tumbled to the glass counter with a soft clink, then bounced off, hitting the tiled floor below. The moment it happened, Jolin’s breath caught in his throat. Before he could even move to pick it up, Margaret let out a sharp, piercing shriek.
Oh, my God! I knew it, she shouted, her voice slicing through the store like a siren. Every head in the room turned toward them. Jolin’s eyes widened.
Wait. Margaret jabbed a finger at him, her face twisted in outrage. I knew you were up to something.
You were trying to pocket it, weren’t you? Thought you’d get away with it. Jolin’s stomach dropped. What? No, I— Margaret lunged for the store phone, her fingers dialing frantically.
Get the police here now, now. She barked into the receiver. We’ve got a thief, young black male, hoodie.
Tried to steal from us. Jolin stood frozen, the weight of her words slamming into him like a freight train. The room had gone silent, but the air was thick with something heavy judgment, suspicion, fear.
He could feel the eyes of every customer drilling into him, the way their postures shifted, the way a woman clutched her purse a little tighter. His mind screamed at him to say something, to defend himself, but he knew. He knew.
No one in that room would believe him. Not over her. Then, in the distance, the wail of approaching sirens pierced the air.
The sirens grew louder, an eerie wail slicing through the once quiet afternoon. Jolin felt his pulse hammer against his ribs as the weight of the moment crashed down on him. He had known this could happen.
He had seen it before on the news, in whispered conversations, in the fear that crept into his mother’s voice whenever she reminded him to be careful when he left the house. But knowing it could happen and living it were two entirely different things. His breath was tight in his chest, his fingers twitching by his sides.
Every instinct screamed at him to move, to run, to fight back against the blatant lie spilling from Margaret’s lips. But he did none of those things. He stood still, forcing himself to breathe, because anything else, any sudden movement, any misplaced word could make this worse.
Margaret’s voice was sharp and commanding as she spoke into the phone, her free hand still clutching the counter as though she were the victim in all of this. Yes, right now. I need officers at Belmont Jewelers immediately.
He’s still here. He’s trying to deny it. But I caught him red-handed.
Her eyes flicked to Jolin, her lips curling into a smirk of pure satisfaction, like she had been waiting for this moment, like she had been expecting it. And hurry, she added, lowering her voice just enough to sound urgent. He’s getting aggressive.
Jolin’s stomach lurched. His fists clenched at his sides. Aggressive.