Editing Getting the Band Together (section)

==='''The Pawnshop'''===

The Baltimore Subway Metrolink rattled through the tunnels, its fluorescent lights flickering as Gadget and Cali sat side by side. Cali fidgeted with the strap of her bag, her eyes darting to the passing stations. “You sure this place is worth it?” she asked, her voice tinged with skepticism, her mind just a touch in fear.

Gadget leaned back, her arms crossed, a small smirk playing on her lips. “Trust me. This pawnshop’s got a reputation for musical gear. If we’re lucky, we’ll find something special.”

When they stepped off the train, the neighborhood was a mix of faded brick buildings and graffiti-covered storefronts. The pawnshop was tucked between a laundromat and a convenience store, its window cluttered with guitars, amplifiers, and other instruments. A bell jingled as they pushed the door open, the smell of old wood and dust greeting them.

Cali’s eyes widened as she took in the rows of instruments lining the walls. “This place is like a treasure chest,” she whispered, her fingers brushing against the neck of a vintage Fender Stratocaster.

Gadget headed straight for the bass section, her eyes scanning the lineup. She paused, her gaze locking onto two instruments hanging side by side. One was a dark brown Ibanez GSR206 6-string bass, its sleek design and polished finish catching the light. The other was a Dean Edge 6-string bass in a stunning blue quilted maple, its body shimmering like the ocean.

“Cali, come here,” Gadget called, her voice low but excited. Cali hurried over, her eyes widening as she saw the basses. “These are perfect,” Gadget said, lifting the Ibanez off the wall and handing it to Cali. “Feel that. Solid construction, smooth neck. And the Dean? That’s a beauty.”

Cali strummed the Ibanez, the low B string rumbling through the shop. “It’s amazing,” she admitted, her voice tinged with awe. But then she glanced at the price tags and frowned. “Two hundred for the Ibanez? Three-fifty for the Dean? That’s way too much. We’re buskers, Gadget. We can’t afford this.”

Gadget shook her head, her expression firm. “These are worth every penny. A good instrument isn’t just a tool—it’s an extension of you. And you deserve something that can keep up with your talent. These are beat up looking, but I’ll check the works and the sound before buying them. Looks we can fix.”

She walked to a chair by the amps and plugged each in by turns, strummed, picked, and looked them over closely. Cali watched in anticipation. Then Gadget let her sit and handed her the Ibanez. Gadget whispered, "Nothing wrong with them we can't fix."

Before Cali could protest further, Gadget flagged down the shop owner and handed over the cash. “We’ll take both.”

Cali stared at her, stunned. “You’re insane,” she muttered, but there was a hint of gratitude in her voice as she slung the Ibanez over her shoulder.

As they went to leave, Gadget stopped. She walked to a dusty corner of the store where boxes had a wide variety of items, most unsorted. She dug through them, chuckling with delight. She found four plastic recorders, a dozen toy kazoos, three harmonicas, finger cymbals, and some small rattles. Such potential. Gadget thought of her flute, the fine mithril silver flute sitting in Mandalay, shadows away. Recorders and harmonicas would have to do.

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