#1 Love

by T Gephart

  The permission to go to his house and the keys did make me wonder about the postcards I had planted. Other than the day I’d hidden them, I hadn’t seen them resurface. I’d have expected him to find at least one or two, their hiding places hopefully not so obscure that I wouldn’t remember them myself.

  Curiosity getting the better of me, I decided to take a detour to Alex’s house and do some investigating for my own purposes. Maybe he’d found one, thought nothing of it and tossed it in the trash. It still seemed odd he hadn’t at least mentioned it, wondering why there were unwritten postcards floating around his home.

  I parked the car out front and let myself in. The air still smelt of Alex, the heady mix of soap and cologne wafting through the air like he’d left minutes ago instead of hours. God I missed him, ridiculous since he’d barely been gone and would have still been at work. But I knew he was miles away, and there was no reasoning with my stupid heart.

  My hands started opening up cupboards, searching for a postcard. I was positive the Disney one had been stashed behind the sugar canister but when I moved things around there was nothing there. Maybe I’d been mistaken? So much had happened in such a short time and I had been in a hurry.

  Next I moved the laundry where I knew for a fact I’d hidden the card of the Griffith Observatory. I distinctly remembered how the colors of the sky had matched his box of detergent, and assuming it would be the first to be discovered. Its hiding place was confirmed a few days later when I did laundry again, which meant it had to be there. But as I moved the detergent and stain remover on the shelf above the washer and dryer, there was nothing. It was as if it vanished.

  So freaking odd.

  With my resolve to find at least one of those stinking cards, I systematically went room to room opening closets, doors and rummaging through his personal belongings like I was a thief. If I’d thought about it I’d have been embarrassed and remorseful for invading his personal space but I was too involved in my objective to worry about all of that. Where the hell were they? Did I imagine the whole thing? Have some weird out of body experience brought on by stress where I visualized myself doing it but didn’t actually follow through?

  No. Surely I wasn’t losing my mind.

  I finished up in the bedroom, even if it had been the only room that hadn’t hosted a hidden postcard. At the time I hadn’t wanted to go through his things—something I’d clearly made my peace with—and left the room untouched by my silly attempt at suggestion.

  Not sure why I felt the sudden need to lie on his bed, it was still early afternoon and I wasn’t that tired. Besides, I still had to a job to do and unless I wanted to admit the possibility of a psychotic episode, or ask Alex point blank what had happened to them—which would bring up the why—I didn’t have time for a nap. But as I kicked off my heels and crawled onto the comforter, I couldn’t think of anything else than putting my head on his pillow and breathing in his scent.

  I’d officially reached a new low.

  Too bad I didn’t care as I nuzzled against it and took my first deep sniff.

  As my fingers slid underneath—to bring it closer to my face and expedite the crazed stalker behavior I was clearly demonstrating—something pricked my skin.

  Like a snake had bitten me, I pulled my finger out quickly to examine it, my heart beating a million miles a minute. No skin had been punctured, which hopefully meant there were no creepy crawlies under there, but I wasn’t going to put my hand under there again either.

  Carefully, I lifted the pillow by the corners, pushing it away from the mattress towards the headboard. My eyes floated around the room looking for a weapon, if there was something under there I wasn’t going to run from the room screaming without killing it. And it was times like that where I was glad I didn’t carry a gun.

  “Oh, Alex.” I gasped, tossing the pillow aside to reveal a pile of postcards tide up with a red ribbon.

  My fingers fumbled as I pulled at the knot desperate to see if they were all there. And as I laid them out on the bed, picture side up, I could see that not even one was missing. He’d stealthily found them all—clearly being busy in the limited time we weren’t together or I wasn’t watching—and not said a word. Instead, collecting them and putting them somewhere he’d hope I’d find them. For a man who didn’t do sentimental, it was incredibly romantic.

  I lifted the picture of Santa Monica Pier and turned it over, there on the part that was supposed to be blank, was his familiar black scrawl.

  First time we went there alone we ate at that Mexican place at the back. Best chips and salsa.

  I brought the card to my chest, hugging it and remembering the memory. We’d been maybe fourteen and had hitched a ride with Jordon. We made fun of the lovers kissing on the pier and I’d confessed to having feelings for Nick. It felt like so long ago.

  Next there was a picture of the Hollywood sign, I flipped over the card, hoping to see another message.

  Went hiking up the trail when we were fifteen. Our moms freaked out when they found out, both of us were grounded for a week.

  I laughed, remembering how mad both Kate and my mom had been. Of course they might have been more okay with it had it been during the day. But we’d snuck out, deciding that climbing it at night sounded like a better idea. Hey, they always went up there at night in the movies, what was the big deal? We had barely made it a mile before a park ranger found us and called our parents. It was the first real trouble I’d been in, my juvenile brush with lawlessness extremely limited.

  Every card I turned over, he’d written a note. Either mentioning a time we’d been there or reminding me how cool our “backyard” was. I didn’t disagree, every single postcard making me want to revisit every single one of those places with him. God I hoped he hated New York. I laughed to myself, holding the postcards in my hands like precious jewels.

  Well, I guess if I’d been the subject of the experiment I’d have said it was a resounding success. But whether he felt the same way was another story. One thing I did know for sure, was if he took the job in New York, me staying back without him was no longer a certainty. Because for as much as I loved L.A., I loved him more.

  I’D SPOKEN TO ALEX WHILE I was getting ready for dinner. I hadn’t mentioned the postcards, figuring we’d save that for when he got back. Plus, I wanted to hear all about his day, find out what he’d been up to.

  He was still wide awake despite his early morning start, and told me at least three times he wished I’d been there with him. I promised we’d go visit together soon, and told him to go surprise Jackie and Lisa if he had time. Most guys wouldn’t have even considered going to meet two people they didn’t know, but Alex wasn’t like most guys. No doubt he was going to turn up to their firm and mess with them in some way. I wish I could have been there to participate and to see the three people I cared about so much get to meet for the first time.

  But instead I’d go spend the evening with two new friends, who while hadn’t been around long, had become important to me all the same.

  “Was beginning to think you weren’t going to show up.” Stefan rose to his feet and gave me a hug.

  “I told him you would.” Mike smiled proudly. “Should have put some money on it.”

  I shuffled into the booth and very maturely poked my tongue at both of them. “I had to go past Alex’s and I got distracted.”

  “Ahhhhh yes, have you heard from lover boy?” Stefan flagged the waitress down, buying a round of beers.

  Hiding the stupid grin on my face wasn’t even a possibility as I answered. “Yeah, we spoke for a little bit before I left.”

  “Hence why she’s late,” Mike stage whispered.

  Stefan stage whispered back, “And smiling.”

  “You two can knock it off already,” I warned, picking up a menu and pretending to read it. Not sure why I bothered, there wasn’t a chance I was missing out on the BBQ ribs, especially when they brought up such fond memories of Alex licking his fingers.

&n
bsp; Tragic.

  I was tragic and I needed help.

  The waitress arrived with our drinks and we ordered food, and then proceeded to talk about work even though we weren’t at the office. Stefan had told me about working with Leah and asked about my field trip and then Mike had talked about his case.

  “So, when’s your hot date with Astrid? The movie premiere?” I asked batting my eyes playfully. Hey, if he was going to tease me about Alex, then I could tease him about Astrid.

  “Next Monday night.” The emphasis on the day of the week like it was offensive. “Who goes out on a Monday? Anyway, apparently it’s a thing so I’ve already dropped off my tux at the cleaners. Not sure how it’s going to go, she hasn’t really spoken to me since that night at the club.” He shrugged, not seeming to be too disappointed.

  “Well, she’s a busy woman.” It was strange times when I was defending her. “She’s got influencing to do.” I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Indeed. Well for what it’s worth it will be an experience. Give me something to tell my buddies back home.” He winked as he took a swig of his beer.

  We finished our dinner and our beers, deciding not to play too late on a school night. That morning alarm was going to come way too soon, and all of us had been putting in serious hours.

  “I’m assuming you drove Alex’s car?” Stefan paid the bill before any of us could argue.

  I nodded, throwing in some money for the tip despite his protest. “Yep, I parked around the corner on the street.”

  “Let me walk you to your car.” He put his hand on my arm stopping me from leaving. “There wasn’t a question mark at the end of the sentence, Maya. I know you’re good, but think of it as a favor to me. I’m parked about a block away and could use the ride.”

  While I was positive his car was neither parked that far, nor that he needed to be chauffeured to it, I agreed because I didn’t feel like arguing. Walking around the streets in L.A. was no different than any major city—don’t be stupid, stick to well lit areas, and don’t go into shady neighborhoods. But as we said goodbye to Mike and strolled to Alex’s car—the back half obscured by shadow—I was glad to have the company.

  Something was off, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end as we got closer, and I wasn’t sure why I felt the panic.

  “You okay?” Stefan asked, looking at me strangely. I hadn’t realized I’d stopped, the car literally a couple of feet away.

  With no good reason—and a very loud internal voice telling me I was ridiculous—I looked around with suspicion, my feet refusing to move.

  Clearly, I’d watched too many crime shows, or horror stories because other than a streetlight that must have blown a fuse there was nothing that pointed to foul play.

  See, there is nothing there, Maya. It’s just another example of you trying to find problems when they don’t exist. It’s what I had done with Alex and what I was obviously doing with the damn car.

  “Yeah, I’m just acting crazy.” I laughed, trying to shake off the weird feeling in my gut and convince my feet to move.

  Not sure he bought my stellar act of bravado, glancing at me and then the car before reaching out and grabbing my arm. “Maybe I should check it out.”

  I shook my head feeling slightly embarrassed. What the hell was my problem? There was no big conspiracy, no one was “after” me, and if someone wanted to steal the car, they would have done that already.

  “No, it’s fine. We’ll go together.” Instinctively I moved closer to him, my head swiveling to each side as I familiarized myself with the surroundings. I probably looked like a moron, but I preferred being alert and looking ridiculous than to end up as a corpse in the gutter.

  It was with a sigh of relief when I reached the driver’s side door. No one jumped out and mugged us and the boogieman hadn’t appeared either, making me feel a little stupid.

  “Too much caffeine.” I laughed, holding my hand against my pounding chest as I unlocked and opened the doors. “And I need to stop reading police reports late at night.”

  Stefan laughed, waiting until I had the door closed before walking around to the passenger side. He rounded the front of the car and then stopped, lifting the wiper blade and pulled out a piece of folded paper.

  Shit.

  I thought all that stuff about notes on cars were urban legends or fodder for the internet chain, but I was wrong.

  “Get in the car,” I hissed, reaching across and popping open the door.

  With the note safely tucked into his hand, he slipped into the car in a rush. Not sure if he was as spooked as I was or it was me that that was freaking him out.

  While I hit the central locks and started the engine, he craned his head around looking for clues.

  Great, he could do that, meanwhile, I didn’t care if that piece of paper was a flyer looking for a lost pet or advertising for a new car wash, we were getting out of there.

  “What the hell is it?” My voice as tense as my grip on the steering wheel.

  He carefully opened what looked to be standard A4 copying paper. “It’s a note that says.” His eyes scanned down the page before reading it out loud. “If you want to know more, meet me at Esmeralda’s Coffee Shop. And there’s an address.”

  “More? Do you think it’s about the case? The investigation? Do you think someone wants to talk?” I didn’t dare take my eyes off the road, knowing it was taking all my concentration to not crash because my heart was beating so fast. Excitement overtook fear as I slowed down to the speed limit, the risk of trashing Alex’s car lowering by the second.

  Stefan laughed. “Relax there, Sherlock Holmes. We have no idea who this is from or what it even pertains to. It could be a bunch of kids pranking you, or it could be some asshole trying to lure you into the sex trade. Or this letter might not even be for you, this is Alex’s car, right?”

  He made some valid points and the letter didn’t give us a lot to go on. But if there was a chance that someone did want to talk, I wasn’t going to ignore it.

  “So are you coming with me? Or am I dropping you off at your car?” I asked with no intention of letting it go. Maybe it was just a joke, or worse. But it could be a lead, and a vital piece to the case, and I wasn’t going to risk throwing it away because I was unsure.

  “Maya, you can’t be serious,” he tried to argue. “You know nothing about this, maybe we should call the police—”

  “And tell them what?” I scoffed. “No threats have been made against me, no damage to property. And last time I checked there was no law against leaving a note on someone’s windshield. So answer the question, are you coming?”

  “Well, considering we passed my car about five minutes ago, I’d say I’m coming with you.” He rolled his eyes, pressing his lips into a thin line to adequately convey his displeasure.

  I grinned back. “Think of it as an adventure.”

  He read out the address and then put it into his phone, which read out directions. Turned out Esmeralda’s Coffee Shop was a place in Burbank, right near the airport.

  The parking lot was well lit and you could see the booths from the road. It was freshly painted, made to look vintage but too shiny to be authentic. The waitress visible from our vantage point dressed in 1950’s diner appeal, complete with winged black rimmed glasses and curled up-dos. It wasn’t the Beverly Wilshire, but it wasn’t a shady dive restaurant with a line of Harleys out the front and a meat saw in the back either. And if someone was trying to lure me there under false pretenses, the bright overhung lights were going to be terrible for their plan.

  “So now what?” Stefan asked as we sat in the car. “We just walk in there and hope the author of the note makes themselves known?”

  I shook my head. “No, I’ll go in there and you wait in the car.”

  “Maya—” The protest ready in his mouth.

  I waved my hand, cutting him off. “If the both of us go in, we might scare them off. And if it is a source who wants to provide information, they wil
l know me, not you. What if they think you are a cop and they get spooked?”

  “This has bad idea written all over it.” He swore as his fists balled in his lap. “Fine, but anything looks suspect you get the hell out of there. I don’t need your boyfriend and his posse of Larsson brothers to deal with if anything goes wrong.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’ll pick a booth by the window so you can see me and I promise you I won’t take any risks. I’ll even have my phone in my lap with a pre-typed message. You get it, call the cops.” The last thing I wanted to do was waste a good law degree by doing something incredibly stupid.

  Knowing he didn’t have a choice, he nodded as my hand went to the door handle. I slipped out of the car, looking around as I went to the front of Esmeralda’s and walked inside.

  It was quaint and neat, with stools at the counter as well as some tables on the side in addition to the booths I could see from the parking lot. There were people inside but it wasn’t overly busy, and no one looked suspicious from my brief scan as I strode past them to a vacant booth. Sure could have utilized Kate’s momvision, but I was going to have to make do with my own gut.

  Careful not to look out into the parking lot, I sat at the table making sure I would be visible from the window beside me. I wasn’t sure what else to do, so I picked up a menu and pretended to read it while I laid my phone casually in my lap.

  The letter gave nothing away as to the identity of the writer or how to signal them, which meant I had to sit and wait and hope I didn’t end up drugged with a posting on the dark web.

  “Coffee, hun?” A waitress who couldn’t have been more than twenty waved her coffee pot, speaking with the most atrocious New York accent I’d ever heard. “Or are you ready to order?”

  “Um, just coffee thanks,” I replied, watching her turn over my cup and pour in the steaming black liquid.