Free Nothing Is Negotiable by Mark Bentsen Page A

back to Luke and stepped closer, “Come on, man. What ya looking for?”
    Luke jumped down, away from the bum, and stumbled backwards a few steps. When he gained his balance he looked toward the other bums and noticed they were running in his direction. One was a stout guy with a beard that covered most his face and could have easily hidden a bird’s nest. He was about thirty yards away, and closing fast. Under one arm he carried a bedroll. The other was a squatty little woman so more than four feet tall, running as fast as her short legs would carry her.
    Luke stepped over and looked to where he had dropped the windbreaker and noticed it was gone. He saw it in the bum’s other hand.
    “Give me that,” he said, jerking it out of the grasp of the bum, who cowered as if Luke was going to hit him.
    Luke saw the others closing in.
    “You don’t look like the type to be hanging around in alleys,” the bum with the crutch said. He apprised Luke’s silver watch, clean shorts and Columbia shirt. “Especially before six in the morning.”
    As the bearded one approached he slowed to a trot then walked around behind Luke, as if to surround him.
    Slowly Luke took a few steps backwards, trying to position himself where he could see them both. They watched him the same way a dog watches someone eat a barbecued rib.
    The little woman finally got there, huffing and out of breath. She made her way between her partners and stopped directly in front of Luke.
    The bearded one glanced at her, and then to Luke. “Come on, Bud. What were you looking for? People like you don’t just look in dumpsters unless you’re looking for something really good.”
    Luke didn’t answer because the woman stepped closer. He could tell she had an attitude. In a nasally voice, she turned to her bearded friend and said, “Shut up, Griz, I’ll handle this.” Her head spun around toward Luke and she pointed a finger at him. “Listen, cocksucker, this is my fucking alley and I don’t remember you asking me if you can come looking in these here dumpsters.”
    “Wait a second, Queenie,” the bearded one interrupted. “I bet he’ll cut us in on it. Won’t you, Bud?”
    Shooting an annoyed look at her bearded friend, Queenie scolded him. “Griz, when I want your opinion, I’ll tell ya. Now shut the fuck up.” She looked back at Luke and stepped a little closer. “So what’s the deal, prettyboy? Why are you in my alley at six in the morning?”
    This unlikely trio didn’t appear to be dangerous, but Luke had never been confronted by homeless people, and he was obviously on their turf.
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was supposed to ask anyone. I was looking for this,” he said, hold out the windbreaker for Queenie to see. “It belongs to my wife.”
    He started walking briskly for the street and they followed. The faster he walked, the faster they walked. When he was directly behind the vacant building, Luke spotted a piece of bright green paper on the ground. He stopped and reached down to pick it up.
    The bums stopped too.
    The paper was folded in half and Luke unfolded it and read: lettuce, tomatoes, bread, mayo. It was Bonnie’s half of the grocery list that he had put in the outside pocket of her purse.
    The threat of the bums instantly evaporated as he tried to make sense of this. Why would this note from Bonnie’s purse be in this alley?
    His eyes scanned the ground. A few feet away he saw a pair of smashed sunglasses. He picked them up. Little silver hearts adorned each arm and were still intact and shiny. The lenses were shattered and the arms were splintered. He turned them over and saw the name Brighton inscribed on the inside of one arm. Lots of Bonnie’s jewelry was made by Brighton. She loved everything they made.
    Suddenly he felt the presence of the bums. They gathered around him, trying to see what he had in his hand. When he looked at them, they stared back, a curious look on their faces.
    Finally, the bearded one smiled