Mike and I walked into the Castro Street Gym. Mike swiped his guest membership card, but I scrambled to find mine in the backpack. No dice. “Could you look up my membership? I lost the card.”
The purple-haired tattooed twink with the nose ring gave me a blank stare. “Uh, okay.”
“Mike, you go on ahead. I’ll catch up.”
“I need the combination lock, honey.”
I fished in the netted compartment and came up empty. “Woops. It’s gone, don’t know where it is. Oh, wait a second. I left it in the car in my suitcase. Anyway, you go on ahead and I’ll run back to the car and get it.”
“Hey, you,” the twink said, “found your membership. Go on in.”
“I’ll be back in ten minutes – gotta run to the car.”
The twink called after me, “don’t forget to swipe your membership card when you come in!”
I couldn’t help but laugh – that twink couldn’t remember a thing. So I turned three blocks and found the rental Prius. The back hatch was empty. Where was our luggage? Gone!
I opened the hatch … unlocked. I opened the side door … unlocked. I hadn’t locked the car when we walked away from it. Just five minutes ago. Now all our luggage was gone. My laptop, with the novel on it … gone. Mike’s work papers, with the company’s payroll on it … gone.
Woops!
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