Read The Footstool: A Christian Short Story Collection Page 4

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  “Can I help you?” the greasy-haired man behind the counter of the pawn shop asked. The sunlight shining through the barred windows refracted off the twinkling ring my hand opened to reveal, causing him to mutter and squint. When the man’s countenance changed, my hopes grew high.

  To my dismay, he studied the ring and offered, “I could give you two hundred dollars for it. If you find something in here under three hundred, I’ll go ahead and give it to you.”

  Since two hundred dollars wouldn’t even cover the rent, I caressed an acoustic guitar and relinquished thoughts of practicality. Before I knew it, the guitar lay on the counter. We made an even trade for the ring.

  Sitting on the sky blue sofa, I practiced the cover songs I had learned to play. When I heard a knock at the door, I knew it was Scottie coming to complain his patrons could hear it upstairs, so I yelled, “I’ll keep it down, Scottie.”

  “That’s not what I want, Lucas. I want you to come upstairs and play. Bring a tip jar,” Scottie called through the wood door. “Maybe you’ll make the rent this month.” I heard him chuckle as he walked off.