Sweet (Part I)

To watch Ron charm a southern old lady behind a jewelry counter was something to behold.

We all three, me a Texas homespun slender brunette, Donald, a fat handsome Arab, and Ron, a long, lean sweet talker waltzed into a Dallas mall, one of those huge, refrigerated, endless, underground worlds, and go to work. Ron wore a suit, his tie skewed off to the side. He swept his blonde hair back with both hands and settled his eyes on which victim. It would not matter. All the old ladies loved him. We stared down into a sea of glittering wonder: diamonds, rubies, emeralds, sapphires--all behind a long glass case. “Oh let me see that one,” Ron said, pointing to a giant rock set on a shiny band. The lady with her slow southern way, took her key from a small Styrofoam cup and opened up the glass cage. Brought out the ring like a big smiling surprise. “Sweet!” Ron said with a slight whistle between his teeth. He motioned for Donald and me to come over. My boyfriend's fat stomach practically rested on the glass counter. “Well? Which one should I get her?” He said.