The Disappearance of Valentina Moreno

Chapter 2 ~ Don't Google

             The photography studio where I work is located in a gentrified neighborhood full of boutiques and mini restaurants from renovated Victorian buildings. It’s also one of the most beautiful streets in San Francisco with trees lining the sidewalks as I zip down the road on my bike. I’m pedaling faster than usual, and my buns are on fire, but I can’t wait to find Julian and tell him about the strange encounter. 

So as soon as I reach the studio, I chain my bike to the railing and bound up the stone stairs, taking two steps at a time. When I push through the heavy oak door and stumble into the small lobby, alternative rock fills my ears. This means the boss’s daughter is here and sure enough, as I turn the corner, she’s sitting at the receptionist desk with her face buried in her cellphone. 

Nepotism hard at work. 

The day she becomes my boss is the day I quit this place.

“Welcome to Bloodmoon Studio how may I—” she cuts herself short when she glances up. “Oh, it’s just you, Val.”

“Gee, thanks, Winnie.”

“Candy Crush.” She holds up her phone, wiggling it. “I’m on level two-eighty-seven.”

“Fascinating. Is your Dad around?” 

“In the back.” She points to the royal purple velvet curtains with the neon sign above it that says, Greatness in Session. 

“Is he in a good mood?”

“Is he ever?”

“Guess not.” 

I make my way down the black hallway where track lights cast beams across music records, old concert posters, and photos of my boss’ old rock band—back when grunge was cool. My favorite is the one of him crowd surfing with a microphone to his mouth, and you can tell he’s singing the crap out of the song while fans grope him. 

Once I reach the end of the hallway, I step through the back door and into the daylight again where Julian is sitting on a bench drinking coffee from Philz. He’s wearing a white cable-knit sweater over grey trousers with dressy shoes, and I should have known he would put my casual attire to shame.

“Hey. Got a few minutes?” I ask, and he glances around the small garden before pointing to his chest while dramatically mouthing, who me? So I roll my eyes. “Yes, you big goof! What are you doing out here?”

“Working on my tan, duh.” He gestures to the natural deep hue of his skin. 

“Har, har.”

“So, what’s up? You’re not gonna ask me to pop one of your back pimples again, right?”

“Ew, gross, no!” I slap his arm and take a seat on the wooden bench next to him. “I’ve just got something weird to tell you.”

“What’s up?”

“Well, I was about to leave the cafe down the street when some woman stopped me to ask if I’m Valentina Moreno? Apparently, she went missing years ago?”

“Weird, I just watched an update about that on Dateline last night.”

“Yeah, that’s what she said! So you’ve heard about it before?”

“Yup! My mom was obsessed with it for the longest time, but hold up...” Julian pauses and shifts his body to me. “Why would that lady confuse you for her?”

“She said they ran some age progression photo and it looked like me.”

“Get out! There's no way.” Julian tosses his head back, barking out a laugh, but when he catches sight of the expression on my face, he stops. “Val, listen, she’s just a typical Karen. I bet she even complained about the way Ricky made her coffee. Don’t listen to her.”