Jenna, who’d been fixing broken watch batteries an hour earlier, wiped her hands on her jeans. She didn’t ask questions. She never did. That was the rule.
“The purple one,” she said. “With the sticker of a tiny octopus under the case.”
The database churned. Then the truth bled onto the screen.
She pulled up a third-party “Serial Number iPhone Lookup” tool on her laptop—the kind that cost $50 a month and had a disclaimer the size of a novel. Leo tapped his foot. The shop’s ancient clock ticked.
“Let me look at it first,” she said.
Leo’s face flickered—irritation, then resignation. “Eighty bucks down the drain.”
