The Lost Read Online Free PDF Page A

outfit. Her hair looks as if a mouse had nested in it, though I admit I’m not one to talk without my blow-dryer and gels. Near the front of the pack, the pink woman is rubbing her hands together and muttering to herself.
    The others are all fixated on Tiffany, or more accurately, at the pile of suitcases that is stacked in front of her like a pile of snow left by a plow.
    “Excuse me?” I say. “Sorry to interrupt, but would you all mind moving just a few parking spots to the left? Thanks.”
    A man in a wrinkled suit looks at me. He scratches the stubble on his chin. He then proceeds to scratch his armpit. He doesn’t speak and he doesn’t move.
    “That’s my car,” I say. “I need to get it out.”
    He doesn’t respond.
    I look for a way through the crowd to Tiffany. Everyone is packed tight together, shoulder to shoulder. “Excuse me,” I say as I squeeze between them, “excuse me.” I have to watch for broken bottles on the ground and leap over several suitcases. One woman glares at me and clutches her suitcase to her chest. I am nearly at the front of the pack. Only the woman in the pink tracksuit blocks my way. “Excuse me, I need to talk to Tiffany.”
    The woman shifts herself to further block my path. “You bidding?”
    “I need to leave,” I say. “And that’s my—”
    “Then you shush up,” the woman says. “Bidders only. Samsonite carry-on coming up. Looks to be from...can’t see the tag. That makes all the difference, you know. Plus whether the owner was coming or going.” She cranes her neck to see the new suitcase that Tiffany has plucked from the pile.
    Seizing her moment of distraction, I slide past her. Tiffany hefts the suitcase over her head and twists so that everyone can see it. She then lowers it onto the trunk of my car beside her with a thump. I wince on behalf of my poor car.
    “I’d like to check out.” I hold up the key to the motel room, and I notice that she is wearing high-heeled shoes. If she’s dented my car, I am sending her a bill...once I am as far away as possible.
    “Kind of in the middle of something here,” Tiffany says to me. She raises her voice to the crowd. “Offering a good deal on this one. Samsonite from San Diego. Marks on the wheels, so this is a frequent traveler. Male name on the luggage tag with California address.”
    A man raises his hand.
    “Noted.” Tiffany nods. “Counteroffers?”
    Another hand goes up.
    “You don’t have anything left, Jerome. A different offer. Anyone have any granola bars? No? Chocolate? Candy of any sort? Come on, someone must have won some snack—”
    “Life Savers,” I say. “I have a roll in the car. It’s yours if you move this show a few parking spots to the left and let me pull out.”
    “Deal,” Tiffany says. “And I will throw in this carry-on, this being your first Lost barter and all. Folks, hold on to your bids. Got a preempt transaction here.”
    “Thanks but no thanks,” I say. “I don’t want someone else’s luggage.”
    “It’s not someone else’s.” Tiffany hops off my trunk. “It’s yours. And you’d better take it. You don’t have much to trade.” She slaps the trunk as if that will cause it to open.
    “Fine.” I pop open the trunk with my key.
    She tosses the carry-on inside and then slams the trunk lid down with enough force that it causes the car to rock. Pivoting to face me, she holds out her hand. “Life Savers?”
    Trying to ignore the eyes of the crowd, I go to the front of the car and dig the roll out of the glove compartment. It’s full, minus one Life Saver. I hand the roll to Tiffany.
    “Sweet,” Tiffany says. “Pun totally intended. Okay, everyone, move left!”
    The crowd mutters to each other in words that could have been English or Spanish but somehow sound more primal, like the grunts of cavemen before they take down their prey. I feel like prey. I plaster a smile on my face to show I appreciate the effort and that I’m nice and harmless and