Page 16 of The Marriage Auction 2: Part 1

The airport was hopping as usual. Travelers coming off planes, holding the hands of screaming children, dragging carry-ons over their shoulders and rolling down by their feet as they attempted to avoid the extra baggage fees by bringing all their crap onto the planes.

Thanksgiving was always a crush of activity, which made it perfect for pickpocketing. And I never stole more than what I truly believed a person could live without. Usually if I stole a wallet, I’d pilfer whatever cash they had and attempt one or two charges on their credit card before cutting it up. Most people wouldn’t even notice a small charge on their credit statements. And I didn’t charge material things or wants. When I stole from someone, it was because I needed something to survive. A warm coat to get me through the winter. New pair of shoes to protect my feet. Perhaps a hot meal that day. A bed to sleep in.

I wasn’t without a conscience. It’s just that after what I’d lived through and currently had to do to survive the streets, my priorities were different than the everyday person’s. If they could afford to travel, they could afford a ten-dollar meal, or a thirty-dollar used winter coat from the thrift store. At least it’s what I told myself day in and day out so that I didn’t go down a dark path and numb my pain and suffering with drugs or alcohol.

I knew I could sell my body for cash. I’d been approached by more pimps than I cared to admit in my nineteen years, but after the abuse I’d lived through, the mere thought made my mouth fill with a sour taste and the need to vomit.

Slowly, I breathed through the sludge invading my thoughts and focused on the travelers. One beautiful womanstuck out like a beacon of light in an unrelenting sea of nothingness.

She was petite, definitely of Asian descent and had perfectly lined dark eyes that drew attention to her elegant features. The woman had long black hair that she’d slicked back into a severe ponytail, the length running down her spine like a silky ribbon. She wore a winter-white suit that had me wondering how she kept it from getting dirty. Her lips were painted a bright cherry red that demanded attention.

I took in my mark, wishing I could be like her. Live a life where I paraded through an airport looking like a million dollars, not a care in the world. What would that be like? To be so beautiful and poised that people were drawn to you like moths to a flame? I sure as hell was as I followed her through the airport determining what I could pilfer that might go unnoticed long enough for me to get the hell out of Dodge.

Then she entered the bathroom. Bingo. Bathrooms were a hotspot for a girl like me. A lot of people left their belongings right out in the open, across from where they used the toilet. People were so stupid sometimes. I couldn’t imagine trusting perfect strangers with my things while I sat behind a flimsy door.

Wisely, my mark took her rolling luggage into the space with her. But that didn’t mean everyone had. I spied a plain black suitcase in the corner of the room across from one of the stalls. As patrons washed their hands, I waited and watched until the ones who had been at the sinks left. Then I curled my hand around the suitcase and walked right out of the bathroom with it. I sure hoped it had electronic devices and jewelry instead of just clothing and regular toiletries. I could have used some deodorant though. I’d run out of the free one I’d gotten from the gospel mission downtown.

On quick feet, I pushed through the patrons until I made my way outside. I’d need to score something expensive if I was to hock enough stuff to pay for room and board the next couple days. The last thing I wanted was to stay at the shelter again. Not that it was horrible, but it was only one step above the streets, and if I didn’t get there in time, all of the beds would be taken. I needed a hot shower and a place I could wash the few outfits I hauled around. I hadn’t had a full night’s rest in at least a week and it was showing in the way I was grifting. Usually when I visited the airport, I’d have a pocket full of cash. Except the two wallets I’d stolen had only contained a few bucks. Not enough to score me a day or more in a one-star hotel.

As I scanned the ground transportation pick-up line, I laid eyes on the woman in white. She stood with her phone in her hand, a cool pair of expensive sunglasses perched on her pert nose. That’s when I noticed the diamond-encrusted watch on her wrist. It was loose enough I’d be able to flick that latch and have it off her and in my pocket in less than a few seconds.

My heart hammered against my ribcage and the guilt and shame rose through my chest as I approached.

I didn’t want to steal from her.

But I had to.

A diamond watch equaled a bed and a hot shower probably for a whole week. Maybe two depending on whether or not it was a name brand. Which it had to be. The woman oozed money from her pristine suit and makeup all the way to her red-bottomed shoes, which I’d caught a glimpse of while she rolled her ankle and readjusted her footing where she stood waiting for a car. Probably a limo.

Just as I suspected, a white limo slowed in front of the woman. My timing would need to be perfect. Picking up speed, I rolled the stolen piece of luggage her way. When I got close, I bumped into her back with my shoulder. She spun to the side,and I was there, as planned, to grab hold of her wrist. With my finger, I flicked the latch and let gravity do its job, as she fell backward. Since I’d done this move a hundred times before, I braced her shoulders with my free arm and pocketed the watch at the same time with my other.

“Oh, shoot!” I yelped to make it look real as I hauled her back to her feet where she teetered on those high heels.

Her glasses slipped off her face, but she caught them with a catlike reflex in midair. “Merci,” she spoke in a cultured French accent I hadn’t expected. “I mean, thank you, dear,” she reverted to English.

“Uh, sure, no problem. Take care.” I turned around to make my escape, but was thwarted when a cool hand encircled my wrist.

“I’m sorry, but I do believe you have something that belongs to me.” Her voice was direct and brooked no argument.

Fear prickled against the back of my neck and my hands went clammy. “Um, no, I think you must be mistaken.” I looked around aimlessly for effect.

The woman’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Dear one, I know when I’ve been stolen from. Had you not scratched my wrist when you unlatched the watch, you may have fooled me. Alas, I am not an easy target.”

My entire body went ice cold, goosebumps skittering along my skin. Today was the day I’d get taken to jail. And based on the value of the watch I’d stolen, I’d be looking at a felony.

I was going to end up in prison. I’d never survive.

Panicked, I yanked the watch out of my pocket and shoved it in front of her face. “Please, ma’am. Take it back. I’m sorry. I just needed a place to stay tonight and a watch like this goes for a lot. Please don’t call the cops,” I pleaded, tears filling my eyes and falling down my cheeks.

She took the watch, returned it to her wrist, and tilted her head. She assessed me—from the uneven, shaggy lengths of my dirty hair to my beat-up sneakers with a hole where my big toe was pushing through. They were too small, but they were all I had.

“Get in the car.” She gestured to the limo.

I looked around and thought about running for it. Leaving the suitcase and bolting as fast as my skinny legs could take me.

“If you run, I’ll just have my driver chase you. He’s an expert at retrieving things.”

A huge, muscular white guy with a barrel chest and a sour expression stood right behind me. He looked very capable of being able to do any manner of physical things, especially catching a hungry pickpocket with very little muscle mass to speak of.

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