Get Lost Read Online Free Page B

hell just happened?” My voice squeaks. “Who were those people chasing us? Shooting at us? Were they even people? Because I’m pretty sure people don’t disappear into thick smoke! No. I know people don’t disappear like that!”
    “Calm down.” He rolls up his sleeves, revealing a tattoo almost identical to the one Peter has, except inside of his is a music note.
    “Calm down? Calm down. How do you expect me to calm down? I’ve been shot at two days in a row now! And I don’t know why. And yoyou just act like this is normal.”
    “It is normal.”
    “For who?”
    “Me!” He emphasizes his answer by accelerating. With a heavy sigh he says, “What does D.R.E. A.M. stand for?”
    “Are you joking?”
    “Why would I be joking?”
    “We were just shot at, and you want to know what D.R.E. A.M. stands for?”
    “Yes.”
    Annoyed, I run my fingers through my hair and answer, “Darling Reveals Everything Art Museum. My father has a strong philosophy that if a picture is worth a thousand words, then a painting is worth a thousand clues.” After a beat, I ask, “Are you going to answer my questions?”
    Pulling into a parking space outside For the Love of Art, he turns the engine off and nods. “Eventually. As for now, I just need you to tell me more about that painting because I can guarantee you, the more I know about it, the quicker I can do something about what’s chasing us.”
    “Us? You mean you, right?” I croak, attempting to grab my bag to bring it with me. But, I drop it when Justin shakes his head. Putting up the top, he unlocks the doors. “What do you mean, they’re chasing us? Why are they chasing me? I don’t know them! I barely know you!”
    “Stop yelling,” he demands to overcome my shouting. “Now, let’s focus on why we’re here, please.”
    I join Justin’s side as we enter the building where I’m immediately recognized by the woman behind the desk. “Good afternoon, Peyton! I wasn’t expecting to see you until later.”
    “Good afternoon, Bertha.” My arms rest on the chest high marble countertop. With a smile at the aging black woman, whose curly hair is decorated with an off yellow flower to match her blouse, I ask, “How are you doing?”
    “Fantastic. You know me and Mr. Smith had a date last night.” She giggles and wiggles in her seat.
    Genuinely excited someone found love, I giggle too. “Yay!”
    “Well, you look like you’re having one yourself, so I’m going to stop interrupting. Enjoy your afternoon.” She lets us through.
    Justin, with a soft smile, stares at me in near awe, which makes me smile as well and ask, “What?”
    “That back there with Bertha. You really care about her.” The words fall out of his mouth as we take a right turn away from the main displays, which are on the marble floors along the gray-painted hall of sculptures. “Yeah. She’s like a grandmother to me.” I rub absently at my arm. “She’s good people. Anyway, the painting you were asking me about is this way.”
    “Do you have actual grandparents?”
    “My grandparents here in the States died before I was born. The others live in London, and until I’m eighteen, I’m not allowed to see them. They send me nice cards every year, kind of cryptic and strange, but it’s a nice gesture.”
    “Why not until you’re eighteen?” he asks as I park myself in front of the very painting we’re looking for.
    “I don’t know. They’re really weird. Here it is.” I point to the uniquely small painting. “Sous Clef. The one and only.”
    Justin places his hand on the wood railing that separates him from one of the most sought after paintings I know. Leaning in, he asks, “What can you tell me about it?”
    Copying his gesture, I ask, “What do you want to know?”
    “What’s in it?”
    “Well,” I stare at the painting, finding his question slightly idiotic as he can see what’s in it, “there’s obviously the rustic, upside-down golden key, which if you notice