CHLOE BAKER'S LOST DATE

Chapter Eleven: A Plan Comes to BookBox

"I can't believe they disrespected Kate like that," Jameela says mid-morning on Monday at work. The rain has continued for the last couple of days and they're worried about flooding in lower Manhattan. I came into work in Billy boots and a large umbrella and resisted the urge to splash in the puddles like I used to do when I was little.

I look up from my computer screen where I'm busy making a WANTED poster with the picture of Fake Jack on it. I created a whole marketing plan on Sunday and presented it to Addison this morning. She'd shrugged and said it was worth giving it a shot and there was just enough time to get it into that month's boxes, which were going on at EOB on Wednesday, if I was willing to hand stuff them myself.

"Like what?" I say, even though I have little interest in this topic. I've learned better than to express that, though. Jameela can get really huffy if you don't love her 'ships.

Jameela shows me the post by turning her screen. I squint to read it. I still think Anthony should be with Edwina. I check the date. "This's from March, 2022."

"So?"

"Two years ago."

"And?" Jameela says. She's wearing a top made out of orange Sari fabric which looks great on her but is a bit fancy for the office on a rainy Monday.

"Why get upset about it now?"

"Because we just found it."

I don't ask who "we" is. It's her and her Twitter cronies who are getting increasingly desperate for content in the lull between seasons and have resorted to Googling old Twitter posts to find something to complain about.

"What do you think of this?" I ask, holding up a printout of the poster. I've edited out my face and blown up Fake Jack's. The headline says Man Wanted. A Free Annual Subscription for Any Information That Leads to His Identity.

Jameela looks it over. "Did you clear that with Karen?"

"She's out this week."

"Not the best shot of the guy."

She's right. Fake Jack is both clearer and blurrier with the blow-up, but I feel like if you know him, you'll recognize him. And it's not like I have any choice in the matter. It's the only photo I have. "Would you recognize this person if you knew them?"

"Probably. Who is it, anyway?"

I will my face not to blush. "A friend."

"Who agreed to be in this promo? You got him to sign a waiver?"

My stomach flips. I didn't tell Addison and Jameela that I was using the poster to find an actual person. I just pitched it as a fun marketing idea that would help boost interest in the BookBox. Clearly, I didn't think this through.

"Um, yeah, I will for sure. Jack won't mind." Or whatever his name is.

Jameela plays with her side braid. "Is this the guy who missed your date?"

"Something like that." My heart is racing now. This is like a rerun of my dinner with the real Jack. Everything I say is a minefield. "Hey, Addison, how many do I need to print up?"

She speaks without lifting her head. Her fingers have been flying over the keyboard for the last half an hour in a way that happens about once a day when I suspect she gets inspired to write whatever she's working on, on Wattpad. I've tried to pass behind her screen a few times to see if I can see what it is, but she always minimizes it if anyone gets near her. "Five thousand."

How am I even going to get to half of those boxes? "Got it."

She stops typing and looks at me. Her large, gold, hoop earrings are swinging from the typing vibrations. "What other assets are you making?"