“Tell you what,” he said at last. “I’ll give you twenty for it.”
Harry rocked back on his stool like the man had taken a swing at him.
“Twenty?” he echoed. “Excuse me, but that’s a pretty steep cut. I knew I wasn’t gonna get a one-for-ten deal, bein’ new here and all, but that’s barely one for a hundred!”
“Suit yourself.” The bartender shrugged, setting the watch down. “Take it back if you think you can get a better offer. Let me show you something, though.”
He ducked out of sight under the bar, then emerged again and plopped a cardboard box next to Harry’s beer.
“Take a look,” he said.
The box was two-thirds full of wristwatches and jewelry.
The bartender smirked. “This is Lorelei, my friend. Gamblers will hawk or pawn anything to raise money for a ticket off-station-or, more often, another pass at the tables. When the box gets full, I run it over to one of the pawnshops, and I’ll be lucky to get back what I paid for most of it. I just do this as a public service for our customers.”
Harry didn’t bother to express his disbelief at this, but he found it hard to believe the Starlight had a Boy Scout working its bar. More likely, the man shipped his booty off-station and split the take with whoever did his selling at the other end.
Instead, he picked up his beer, took a sip, then smiled.
“All of a sudden, twenty sounds real good,” he said.
The man picked up the watch again and tossed it into the box, replacing it under the counter before turning to the cash register and ringing up a “no sale” as he extracted a twenty.