“Three hundred,” Marnie said, holding up the gold Chanel dress.
“I'll give you forty bucks.” He shifted his cigar to the other side of his mouth and peeled off two twenties, pushing it across the counter toward her.
Marnie frowned in disgust, but this was a pawn shop. She expected to be low balled.
“That's a $10,000 gown, even at ten percent it's at least a $1000, sir.”
Marnie smiled, turning to thank the nice man who had come to her aid. Her smile slacked when she came face to face with Danny. She turned her back to him. How did he find me? Worry creased her brow. She hastily accepted the money from the pawnbroker, whom she was selling her clothes to.
“Hold on there, Marnie.” Danny snatched the money out of her hand and set it back on the counter. “Sir, give us a second? We'll be right back.”
Marnie let Danny steer her into the middle of the store.
“You look like shit.” Marnie started. His olive skin had a grayish tint. He had a big rectangle of gauze on his temple. Marnie reached forward to touch it, but Danny bobbed out of her reach.
“Yeah, I'm starving. I haven't eaten yet.” He smiled wryly.
“I'm sorry I fucked your face up.” He was wrong for surprising her, but he didn't deserve to be hurt. What's wrong with me? She should've taken it out on Paul, but considering how that went the last time, she wasn't sure jail time would make her life easier.
He grinned. “It's alright. I know now never to make you angry. I guess the red hair should have been the clue.”
“How'd you find me?”
“I figured you'd need some money so I've been to about…” He counted on his fingers. “…five pawn shops so far.”
He never would've caught her if it hadn't taken her over an hour to pawn her stuff. The pawnbroker had lowballed her so bad, she was forced to haggle with him over every last scrap of clothing. Maybe she should've let him have $30,000 worth of clothes for five hundred bucks. She would've been gone by now, and five hundred was better than nothing.
“Danny, what do you want?” She whined.
“You didn't say goodbye.”
His voice had become hoarse at the word “goodbye”. She hadn't considered him to be the kind of guy who got choked up for nothing. She was too used to his ‘follow my rules or get the fuck out' attitude. But she'd broken all of his rules, and here he was, still willing to help her. Fool.
“I know I fucked up royally,” he continued. “And I am very sorry.”
“Danny—.” Marnie started. She was the one who needed to apologize. Would he forgive her?
“I'm not trying to make you stay, but I deserved better than the way you left things. If you want to leave, fine. But let's talk about it. I just want to make sure you have a plan in place, you know?”
His eyes pleaded with her for forgiveness.
“I'm sorry,” she said. Tears began to stream down her face.
“I'm starving. Aren't you hungry? Let's go get a bite to eat and talk about this. I'll give you some money. You don't have to do this,” he said, gesturing to the counter that had her clothes strewn across it.
“I could go for a steak.”
“Or a hamburger,” Danny corrected.
She wiped a hand over her face. “You are so cheap.”
Danny grinned.
Marnie ran her hands through her hair, looking back at the counter.
“Okay,” she said, giving Danny a small smile.
The pawnbroker hastily placed the Chanel dress he'd been admiring back on the counter.
“I'm going to have to say no to all of your offers.” She pushed the two hundred dollars he'd already given her to his side of the counter and began stuffing her clothes back into her suitcase.
“Made up with your boyfriend, huh?” he said, nodding at Danny.
“In a way,” Danny said smiling at him.
He linked an arm to Marnie's and walked her out of the building.
“This is pretty swanky for a burger place,” Marnie said, looking around.
Hometown Ricky was a very expensive‐looking restaurant. Wood floors, leather booths, marble tables and printed menus—none of those plastic ones for once. Finally, Marnie's complaints had been heard. Her eyebrows rose when she looked at the menu. Thirty dollar hamburgers? He really was sorry. Danny had this weird penchant for buying expensive clothes, but cheap eats. Personally, Marnie felt it should be the other way around, but with his money she didn't get why he had to choose between the two.
“One summer before I joined ‘Lights Out,' my dad took me on a road trip. Everywhere we went we'd stop at a diner.” He tapped his finger against the marble table.
“By the time we got to the Grand Canyon, I was tired of apple and cherry pies. He told me that there was no guile in a pie or hamburger. The trip was about staying honest.”
“‘Lights Out' was my ticket to fame, no more talent shows or two bit commercials. I guessed he sensed that and he was trying to tell me to remain humble. It was a simple request, and now that he's gone, I want to honor it.”
“Gee, so I'm pretty much a jerk for complaining.”
A sexy smile graced his lips. “No. You didn't know.”
“You don't talk much about your life outside of work.”
His expression darkened. “I have my reasons. So, where are you going to go?”
“Honestly, I don't know,” Marnie said sheepishly. She just wanted to get out of Chicago as quick as possible.
“What are you going to do?”
Marnie shook her head in bewilderment.
“I've been meaning to talk to you about this for a while.” He took a sip of his Sprite. “Whatever you decide to do, I think it should include a twelve‐step plan.”
Marnie frowned at the thought. Habit Relief? She was never doing that shit again.
“I know, I hate them too, but they did help me. Maybe it's less about liking them and more about getting what you need.”
“That's not an option.”
“Well, what is?”
“Can I just come back to the hotel until I figure something out?”
“Yeah!” His expression lightened, as if a chip on his shoulder was disappearing. “Let's take a few days and really flesh out the details. There's no rush. I want you to be solid on what your next steps are. You need to think about something that's going to keep you secure.”