CHLOE BAKER'S LOST DATE

Chapter Nine: Searching for Fake Jack

"I can't believe I agreed to do this," Kit says the following Saturday. She's wearing an adorable pink romper with her hair in braids, and she's already received three "hey, babies," from touristy college bros on our way to the brunch place where I met Fake Jack last week.

Try as I might, I haven't come up with a better name for him.

"Do what?" I ask as we take our seats, one table over from where I sat with Jack. "Have brunch with me?"

"As if that's all we're doing." She picks up her menu. "What's good here?"

"Not the croissant. We ended up sharing my Eggs with friends benefits."

Kit makes a face. "Ugh, punny titles."

"I think they're cute."

"You would."

"Yeah, yeah."

Janie walks up with a pencil and ordering pad in her hand. "What can I get you?"

"Janie, hi. Chloe. Remember, I was here last weekend?"

Janie shakes her head and looks bored. The restaurant is as full as last week and I was lucky to get a reservation. The Upper West Side loves its brunch.

"With a guy?" I persist. "He was really late? And his credit card had been compromised?"

Her face clears. "Oh, the dude who almost stood you up?"

"Yes."

"What about him?"

"You ever seen him in here before?"

She cocks her head to the side. "Maybe once or twice. Not a regular."

My heart sinks. "Any chance you know his name?"

"Hmmm. It's something basic, I think."

"Like Jack?" Kit says unhelpfully. I kick her under the table.

"Something like that."

"Okay, um, do you think you could do me a favor?"

"Depends."

"Can I leave you my number? If he comes in again, can you give it to him?" I take out half a cue card I prepared beforehand with my name, number, and a $20 bill.

She eyes the money. "He lose your number or something?"

"It's complicated."

"I don't want to get in trouble."

"You won't, I promise. Just give him this. If he doesn't want to talk to me, he doesn't have to take it or call or anything."

"But you want me to tell you if he's been in, right?"

"Well, only if you're comfortable." I push the twenty and the cue card toward her. "Please?" She hesitates for a moment, then takes it. "Thank you."

She tucks the card and the twenty into the pocket of her apron while Kit shakes her head at me across the table. "You ordering?"

"Definitely."

#

Two hours and two thousand calories later, we're walking across the park toward the Met.

"I can't believe I ate all that," I say, holding my belly. We each got the eggs benedict and ate every last bite, a move I regretted the minute my fork hit the plate for the last time.

"I can't believe we're even doing this after Jack sent you flowers," Kit says.

Unlike me, she seems to be able to eat whatever she wants without consequences.