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The sun is high in the sky. Marcel’s fingers are a bit red, he feels it slowly cooking his hand. A plastic bag tumbles past his boot, coming to rest between the handrail and the fence.
This is the third installment in a series of stories about movement and possession in the American West. It will make some sense on its own, but I highly recommend reading all the previous parts in order if you haven’t yet. You can check them out through the links below:
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The sun is high in the sky. Marcel’s fingers are a bit red, he feels it slowly cooking his hand. A plastic bag tumbles past his boot, coming to rest between the handrail and the fence. Crosshatched shadow fades into a sprawling black rectangle. He looks at the red curtains in the hotel windows, looking for any people in their midst. The cars growl beneath him. His head is filled with dryer lint, receipt paper and cracked marbles. Marcel takes his sunglasses off as he walks down the stairs, his steps spreading out as they cascade onto cracked sidewalk.
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Italia Shopping Center
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The golden doors have S-shaped ornamental handles with the texture of a goose wing. Marcel enters the building and leans against a curved stone wall. A large leaf from the plant arrangement brushes his back. His duffle bag comes off the left shoulder and he takes out a handkerchief, soaking up the sweat on his forehead. Puts that back and continues down the hall.
A man with a mustache and a striped shirt walks by him, Marcel tries to meet his eyes beneath a straw hat. He turns the corner and sees more of the men through a fancy railing. They are steering gondolas in bright blue water, smiling at the passengers and nodding at each other. One emerges from a narrow passage and nods to his colleague waiting near the wall on the other side.
Geneve Auctions is past Safron Shoes and ChocoDESIRE. Jeanne is the first to see Marcel, rising from behind the glass counter.
“Good afternoon sir, I’m Jeanne. Is there anything we can help you with today?”
Marcel glances at her name tag written in a script font. “I’m looking to get something appraised.”
“Okay great. May I ask what it is?” She takes out a stack of papers.
“A Chinese foo dog made of jade.”
“Oh, that sounds wonderful. Please take a seat over here and my colleague will be over to assist you shortly. If you don’t mind, I have a small form for you to fill out while you wait.”
She points at a row of three wire frame chairs. The seats are decorated with a pattern of small brown squares, blending into the speckled beige carpeting. Marcel sets the duffle bag down on the rightmost seat and sits in the middle. He looks through the side of a display case, examining a set of silver candle holders. The closest two are a pair of swirling dolphins, and he thinks that the one behind them is supposed to be an oyster.
Checking his watch, ten minutes have gone by. Jeanne returns to the glass counter and rotates toward Marcel. “Mr. Sallini is on the phone right now, sorry about that.” Marcel is finishing the form, a slip of yellow paper which asks for his contact information and offers a number of checkable boxes. “All done? Thank you, Mr. Savoie.”
Mario’s silk shirt is too small for his frame. Marcel imagines his forearms and chest turning purple and bursting.
“Hello Mister Savoie, good afternoon, how are you? I’m Mario, our Oriental Arts Consultant.” Mario offers Marcel a handshake.
Marcel stands up and smiles. “Hi Mario, you can call me Charles.”
“Of course sir. Charles, I heard that you have a jade lion for appraisal. Before we discuss further, I would love to see her.”
LAS VEGAS GAZETTE
MAY 25, 1991
Wiessman Proposes Tax Cuts For Seniors
Renegades Win State Championship
Marcel scans the headlines then unwraps the lion. It has been lying on its side in the bag. Mario grabs it from him and Marcel reacts with a momentary scowl.
“Ooohhhh, aren’t you the sweetest thing?”
“Mario, how old do you think it is?”
“Those eyes … exquisite.”
“How much is it worth?” Mario’s expression is blank for a moment, then he starts to grin.
“Did you know the Xuande Emperor kept hundreds of these lions in his palace? They were all in a closely guarded private room, and he would consult them before making any major decision!”
“Huh. Very interesting. I’m assuming this one isn’t that old.”
“That it is not, but let me tell you sir, you might just have a priceless treasure on your hands.” Mario sits down in the chair next to Marcel.
“May I ask where you got her?”
Marcel answers immediately. “I won it at an auction in Colorado a few years ago.”
“Did she come with a certificate of authenticity?”
“Yes, but I forgot it at home.”
“Do you know which association issued the certificate? The AACI or BCAC, for example?”
“I’m not sure, sorry.” Marcel hears the sound of Mario’s breath.
“No problem Charles. In that case I’d like to keep her for a few weeks to conduct authenticity tests and consult some other experts. If you would like, you can pay a small flat fee to expedite this process. We will also try to determine the provenance, which is a detailed log of the ownership history.”
“I’m actually taking a business trip to Paris next week, and I’d prefer to be in town just in case you need anything from me. It would be better for me if we wait on the appraisal.”
“We can contact you over the phone, I promise you it’ll be done in two weeks at the most.”
“I’m in no rush, we can do it another time.”
“Okay sir, I understand. Please take this card and call me anytime, I look forward to hearing from you.”
Marcel’s bones crackle between the blood pressure of Mario’s bronze fingers. He smells charred pizza dough in the hallway. Glancing back at Geneve Auctions, he makes his way to the goosewinged doors.
The ragged pavement of a non-tourist street reverberates in the bus’s walls. The duffle bag is cradled in both hands, and Marcel runs his tongue along the points of his canine teeth. Nine stops to go.
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YUN FAT PAWN SHOP
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The beads in the doorway brush against a thin layer of hair gel. Marcel sees two pathways littered with boxes. He picks up a porcelain flower pot shaped like a baseball bat. He rotates it to look at the rest of the painted scene, then returns it to the shelf. A man is hunched over a desk in the back left corner, his head emerging from a pile of brittle brown paper. There are beads of sweat on his forearm. The sound of crinkling tape makes Marcel turn around. He sees an elderly woman opening a box, she turns her head and blinks at him. There is a wooden turtle carved into the handle of her cane.
“Ah, foo dog.”
He wraps his hand around the dog’s back, rubbing his palm on it.
“Jade. Cold even when outside is hot.”
His eyes curl behind wireframe glasses.
“I can pay 200 dollars.”
Marcel’s eyebrows stretch. “I took it somewhere else and they said it’s worth at least 500.”
“230.” Marcel feels the woman standing in the corner behind him.
“No thanks, I’ll find a better deal than that.”
The Las Vegas Gazette is re-wrapped on the dog.
“Okay, I’ll do 260.”
Marcel pauses his wrapping. “350.”
“275.”
The dog goes into the duffle.
“Sorry, I can’t do that. Have a nice day.” The rotating desk fan lands on Marcel.
“Come back and I will remember, buy for 275.”
“Okay, I’ll keep that in mind.”
Marcel walks past the boxes, peering into a half-opened one. A demon mask stares back at him with cracked yellow teeth. He rolls his sleeves down. She pokes her cane into the sharp grey carpet, moving closer. “It is a very beautiful stone. Be sure to keep it safe.”
The crosswalk is at the end of the block, so he sits on a concrete block in the parking lot. He feels a gentle pulse on the bottom of his feet and he takes off the ring on his left middle finger. It’s polished silver with a rectangular onyx strip running through the center. He puts it between his first and second knuckle and twists it with his thumb. Someone runs through a yellow stoplight, inciting a chain of honks. Marcel wipes the back of his pants and jogs to the crosswalk, the dog bouncing at his side.
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SILVER STAR JEWELRY
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Marcel folds Mario’s card into 4 quarters and tosses it in the garbage. A man in a Hawaiian shirt steps out, holding the door for Marcel. “Thanks.” The polished walls nestle dark wooden cabinets, which hold diamond necklaces behind a thick layer of glass. The massive human next to the door scans Marcel with his small crablike eyes. Katya is talking with a man in a striped shirt, and a woman with curly white hair is looking at the section of silver bracelets. Marcel glances at some necklaces, finding himself in the thin golden area. He looks up and Katya is there.
“Marcel, my darling! How are you?”
Katya gives him a long hug, her nails grazing the back of his shirt.
“I’m well enough Katya, what about you?”
“Very good, very good. Been a slow afternoon. So, what do you have for me today? Rings, necklaces?
“Actually, I don’t have anything to sell. You do custom commissions, right?”
Katya chuckles and nods. “Yes, we do. What’s inspiring you?”
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Part 4 is coming soon, stay tuned...