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New York City
Uriah Bonebrake, Bones to his friends, unfolded from the back of a gray Toyota. Like a praying mantis emerging from its chrysalis, he stretched his six-foot five frame and yawned. The Uber driver honked twice and waved before cutting back into New York traffic and heading uptown. A warm southerly breeze swept up Madison Avenue and flicked Bones’ signature black ponytail over his shoulder.
He tried not to look too much like a tourist, but the iconic Manhattan skyline was like nothing else in the world. He glanced upward. Towers of granite and steel rose from the sidewalk and cut the blue August sky into a maze of lines and rectangles. Many of these buildings were nearly a century old. He could imagine the Mohawk high-iron men catching hot rivets in midair and slamming them into beams and girders, hundreds of feet over his head. Those Native American iron and steel workers had been nicknamed skywalkers for their reputed fearlessness as they worked high above the ground. Good thing I’m just a dumb Cherokee, he mused. I may enjoy rock climbing, but you sure as hell wouldn’t catch me balancing on a girder, way up there unless it’s a matter of life or death.
Turning south, he collided with a man in a striped suit.
“Sorry, bro,” Bones said absently.
The guy started to say something, but choked it back when he noticed the breadth of Bones’ shoulders. Bones ignored him and continued toward 42nd Street. Stepping off the curb, he angled his way through a pack of stopped cars. The light changed, and he had to dash for it. A chorus of horns urged him on. Bones cut through a crowd of pedestrians, almost slamming into two more businessmen. Heads down, eyes fixed on their cell phones, they could have been walking blind.
Next street. There they were, twin stone lions guarding the New York Public Library. Jessica, the librarian would be inside. I wonder if she’s waiting for me. Certainly, she must have gotten my text. But why hadn’t she replied? He decided it really didn’t matter. He’d just go in and surprise her.
The library was a little bigger than he’d thought. No, a lot bigger. When Jessica said she was a librarian, a reference librarian, she’d emphasized, Bones had imagined an oak counter with green lamps. Jessica would have her long blond hair up in a bun and peer over her reading glasses to ask what he needed... he imagined.
Undaunted by lions or edifice, Bones climbed the steps two at a time and entered the cavernous marble atrium. Security check. He took out his wallet and cell phone while a gray uniform with white gloves ran a quick wand over him. At the information kiosk he asked, “Reference desk?”
Pointed fingers, vague directions, the old woman pressed a small folding map into his hand. It’s just a library, I need a map? Bones scanned it. Yeah, well okay, so maybe I do. He headed down the third hall, cut right, up a flight of stairs. Sure enough, the sign read Reference Desk. A man in a dark blue suit sat watching a monitor. “Hello, I’d like to speak with Jessica?” Bones waited but the man didn’t reply. He rapped his knuckles on the counter. “Anybody home?”
The man’s gaze slowly turned upward to peer at Bones. “May I help you?”
“I’m here to see Jessica. I have an appointment.” That last bit was a lie, but what the hell?
The man blinked, gazed owlishly at him. “I beg your pardon, but we have six Jessicas on this floor alone. Which one would you prefer?”
“I don’t know. Her name is Jessica and she said she’s the reference librarian here.”
“One of many, I’m afraid. You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Long blond hair?”
“Oh yes, that narrows it down.”
Bones paused. Blue Suit didn’t smirk or anything, but it wouldn’t have taken much more to launch all two hundred and thirty pounds of Cherokee over the intervening desk—with unfortunate consequences for both parties. Bones considered that such an encounter would reduce his chances of seeing the woman in question and said, “Okay, let’s rephrase things here. You are an information expert. Look at me, and then direct me to the Jessica that I would be most interested in seeing.”
Blue Suit had obviously considered a similar encounter and the likely consequences because he smiled, took Bones’ map and circled a room two doors farther along the hall. “Her name is Jessica Maynard, in case you never got around to asking.”
The woman in question sat at a low desk, thumbing through a pile of periodicals. She looked just like she had back in April, pony tail, nicely proportioned. He stepped through the door. What’s up, Jess?”
Jessica didn’t look up from her work “Yes? How can I help you?”
“Well, it’s me... I’m here.” He held out his arms.
She shook her head. “I don’t...”
“It’s me, Bones. Key West, remember? You said to come for a visit. I was thinking you could show me a few more of those yoga poses.”
“Key West?” Now Jessica finally looked up. She blanched and her mouth dropped open when her eyes fell on him. “Oh, my God... you came all the way from Key West to see me? I thought that was a joke.”
Heat rose along the back of Bones’ neck. His cheeks warmed. You have got to be freaking kidding me. “Dude. You specifically said ‘Come any time.’”
“I also added LOL. I didn’t think you were serious. Who comes all the way to New York to see someone they hooked up with for one weekend?”
“Someone who really likes your downward facing dog.”
“Quiet!” Jessica hissed, making a downward motion with both hands. “Oh, my God, you can’t be here.” She looked around, frantic. “Just go. My fiancé is coming to pick me up any minute now.”
“Fiancé? You didn’t say anything about a fiancé when we were making the beast with two backs.”
“It was a fling. That’s all. Just having a little fun before I tie myself to one guy forever.”
“You’re such a romantic. I’m touched.” Bones pressed his fingertips to his heart.
“I get it. I’m a terrible person. But please, just go. Oh God, if he finds out, I’m so dead.”
A voice chimed in from just outside the door. “Hi, honey, are you about ready?”
Bones turned to see a generic Wall Street type standing behind him. Pinstriped suit, blue shirt, red tie, polished tassel loafers. Banker, lawyer, something like that. The man appeared puzzled so Bones helped him out.
“Yeah, we’re totally done here. She was just helping me with a research project I’ve been conducting.”
The man looked him up and down, skepticism brimming in his eyes. In fairness, Bones didn’t look like any kind of researcher.
“You’re a scientist?” He didn’t bother to hide his sardonic tone.
“Sociologist. I study relationships, marriage customs...” He paused. “Mating habits.” He turned back to Jessica. “You were a big help. Thanks for everything.” He put extra emphasis on the last word.
He shouldered his way past the confused fiancé and double-timed it out of the library. He had no problem with flings; in fact, he typically preferred those, but a chick should at least have the common courtesy to let him know the score. He’d made all kinds of plans, reservations. He had to call, cancel, and rebook. No use staying around here. Bones reached deep into his right pocket. Wallet, keys, no phone. He patted his left pocket, the back pockets. No phone. Holy crap, this day just keeps getting better.
He’d used the phone to book his Uber ride to midtown. It fell out in the back seat, damn, damn, damn. Striding south on Fifth Avenue. Perhaps it was the look on his face or the growing thundercloud over his head, but people just leaped out of his way. Bones looked up. Had he crossed Madison? Nope, this was 36th Street, what the heck? He swiveled about and looked behind him. Nothing seemed familiar. He had to find a computer, log in, and lock his phone. The library had computers. He started back when a faded sign in a narrow alley caught his attention. “Syber Café,” it read.
“Syber, with an s.” He rolled his eyes as he read aloud. He could duck in there, buy a little computer time, touch base with Uber, and avoid running into Pinstripe again. It kind of looked like a place he’d frequent, anyway. A couple of well-dressed thugs loitered across the street. Broken bottles crunched beneath his shoes. The Syber Café had a stout door painted landlord green. It sported a cartoon of an old-fashioned floppy disk. Bones pushed inside.
Packed, the place was crowded with people eating, drinking, talking. Not a computer in sight. In that moment, Bones realized he hadn’t eaten anything all day. That’s my problem; I’m too hungry to think straight. Food first, he’d grab a quick bite, then see about his phone. He looked around, no open tables, not even an empty chair. It couldn’t be later than eleven in the morning. What the hell are so many people doing here?
He caught sight of a waitress passing a tray of plates and bowls to a half-dozen eager patrons. When she straightened, he stopped her. “Say, do you have a menu?” He looked around and grinned his best Bones grin. “Okay, a takeout menu maybe? I’m starved.”
The young woman eyed him up and down. Mostly up, she hardly cleared five-foot two and couldn’t have weighed a hundred pounds. Short, black hair, round face, fair skin, and big brown eyes. Mixed ancestry, Chinese-American perhaps. She wore little makeup, and her nails were gnawed to the quick. At first glance he’d thought her to be college-age, but at a closer look maybe more like mid-twenties.
“We’re dine-in only.” She cocked her head. “I haven’t seen you in here before.”
“Yeah, that’s why I need a menu. I’m like a shark, never forget a good meal, but I have to taste it first.”
The waitress didn’t change expression, as if all of her patrons were like sharks. “Over here then.”
A bar stood along one wall. The waitress found him a stool and seated Bones at the last open space, next to the restrooms. She handed him a sheet and a stubby pencil. “Fill this out, both sides.”
He crouched on the stool like a little kid in the principal’s office. The restroom door banged open and a couple of women came out. It didn’t smell nasty, a good sign, he thought. Bones turned his attention to the page. Two columns, multiple choice. He flipped it over. Yup, both sides. Crazy, nothing about food. Which color do you prefer: Red, Green, Pink, or Blue? “What the hell?” He glanced around. The young woman was nowhere in sight. What’s a guy got to do to get fed around here? Bones glanced back at the sheet. He would have preferred the color orange, but that wasn’t an option, so he circled Red.
Another question: In my yard there are two trees, three roses and an azalea. How many plants do I have: None, One, Six, Three, or Not Enough Information?
He looked up to see the waitress standing several paces away, arms folded, as if she’d known he had a question.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing. I was just looking around to make sure I hadn’t wandered into a college entrance exam prep class.”
She smirked, turned and vanished again.
Okay, so there wasn’t any mistake. Apparently he had to jump through some hoops before he could place his order. But why? Intrigued, he decided to give it a go.
Hmm... okay, Six. Wait, wait, only three different plants. He started to circle the number three but stopped again. Wouldn’t there be like, grass or weeds or something in the yard too?
Bones got into it. Next question, and then the next, each one with a little twist, some easy, some impossible. He filled out both sides. The waitress appeared as if she knew when he would finish. She glanced at the sheet, then at the back and said, “Oh, really?” The young woman squinted, gave him a dark look and turned to walk away.
“Yo. Do I get a menu now?”
Without glancing back, she replied, “Your meal will be out shortly.”
“That makes sense.” He chuckled and looked around.
People on all sides continued to eat and talk. Turning around, he could see into the kitchen. Small, noisy, it produced a constant supply of steaming platters and bowls heaped with exotic dishes. Bones amused himself watching the young woman dance in and out of the swinging doors juggling impossible stacks of crockery, cups and silverware.
The sight of all that food just made him hungrier. Fifteen minutes, nothing. Then twenty. Nothing. Not even a cup of coffee. His stomach rumbled. “Screw this. I’ll buy something off a food truck.”
“Here we are.” His server arrived, a steaming mug of black coffee and a plate piled high. He didn’t immediately recognize the dish but it smelled incredible.
He took a bite and closed his eyes, savoring the unusual flavor. He couldn’t put a name to it, but the meat put him in mind of barbequed ribs on the Fourth of July. He chewed slowly, savored it, then washed it down with a swallow of coffee. Another bite. Not ribs... that was all wrong. How had he thought that? It wasn’t just the meat. There was a sauce or gravy. It sort of tasted like the chicken pot pie that his grandmother used to make from scratch? No, that wasn’t it either, but it was close. Still another. Squirrel gravy cooked over a campfire. No... it had sort of an Asian vibe to it.
Bones fell into the food, knife and fork. Each bite both a new adventure and an old comfortable friend. Lost in the food, he mopped up the last bits with a swab of bread that tasted fresh from the oven. Full, but not sated, he took another swallow of coffee. Strong and black, but not bitter, just the way he liked it.
He gazed around once more at the clientele; the crowd had started to thin. Two more waitresses had appeared. Dressed like K-pop stars, short skirts, bleached blond hair, they milled around handing out menus. Menus? There must be a different crowd at lunch. Bones took a long sip of his coffee and examined the cylindrical porcelain mug. It bore the blue outline of a seal, sitting on a stool, balancing a trident on its nose. No, this is just crazy. Bones spun around and peered into the kitchen. The cook, a middle-aged Asian man, grinned and winked at him. Bones grabbed his coffee mug and started for the kitchen when the waitress, his waitress, took him by the elbow. “You need something more?”
“Yeah, I just want to know how you did that. My favorite color? Come on. No one could learn that much about me from some silly magazine quiz.”
“I’m going off shift in a few minutes. You can talk to my cook.” She led Bones to the kitchen. A stout man in a pristine white apron sat on a stool smoking a cigarette. He smiled and stared at them through brown, hooded eyes, like he’d been waiting for them. He grinned and said, “You not like the food? Want to complain?”
“It was the best meal I’ve ever had in my life. I want to know why.”
The man waggled a finger. “Why is easy. Because I can. Because I want to. Is the how that you are eager to know.”
As they spoke, an older man stepped into the kitchen, snatched the cigarette from the cook’s mouth, and began unwrapping hamburger patties. “That’s Joe, don’t mind him. He fixes lunch. I fix specials.”
“Do you have a name, or do you want to go with Mr. Special?”
The man laughed. “They call me Uncle Will.”
“Dude, you are a miracle worker. I’m serious. How do you do it?”
He sighed, and his grin slipped ever so slightly. “It is my niece, here. She has magic computer program. It designs recipes.”
“It’s a neural-network, not magic. I’m a coder, not a magician.”
“Wait. You use computers and brain science to plan menus? That’s not a neural network. That’s a noodle network. Get it?” He tapped his temple. “Brain? Noodle?”
She rolled her eyes.
Uncle Will leaned toward Bones and muttered, “I think Sally is hacker, too. But don’t say I told you.”
She grabbed her uncle by the ear and gave it a playful twist. “I am not a hacker. How many times have I said?”
The cook straightened and rubbed his ear. “Ow. I meant it as a compliment.”
Bones hoped the young woman couldn’t reach his own ear. From the looks of it, she had a tight grip.
She looked up at him and said, “I’m a programmer, a coder. I’ve created a neural-network simulation that takes everyone’s answers and matches them to food. Easy, not magic. Not hacking.”
Bones held up the coffee mug. “And this? Your neural thingy deduced that I was a Navy SEAL?”
“I could tell you were ex-military. You have that vibe about you. SEAL was just a lucky guess.”
The glint in her eye said otherwise but Bones let it slide. “Okay, fair enough. A whiz-bang computer simulation that cooks better than my mom. So what do I owe you?”
“Pay what you feel it worth.” Uncle Will winked. “Within reason,” he added, laughing.
Bones almost sagged with relief. He’d been ready to hand over all his cash. Instead, he pulled out three twenties. “That fair?”
Uncle Will accepted the bills, pressed them between his palms, and made a slight bow, which Bones acknowledged with a dip of his chin.
“So, what do you do with your time now that you are no longer SEAL?”
“You might say that I find lost things.” Bones stopped dead. “Oh, wait, crap. My phone. I left my phone somewhere. I need to go online and lock it. Damn, I was hungry and I forgot.”
Sally handed him her own battered phone, an old flip model. “Why don’t you just call it? Maybe someone will simply return your phone to you.”
Yeah, it could happen. Pigs fly if you throw them off a cliff. He punched in his own number. Nothing. Bones waited, finally a ring, a pause, then his shirt pocket started buzzing.
Sally dead-panned, “He’s good, Uncle Will. Found it first try.”
He’d fumbled it in the library as he fished out his ID, finally slipping it into his top pocket. Somewhat red in the face, Bones flipped the phone shut and handed it back to her. “Thanks.”
“Wait,” Uncle Will said. “I ask a favor. You take Sally and go.”
“What, take her? Why?”
“We have problems with these men, men with suits. You know, Wall Street guys, dangerous men. Don’t negotiate, just take what they can, steal what they can’t.”
“Wait, isn’t that what the police are for?”
Sally glared at Bones through a gap in her bangs. “Who do you think the police work for?”
Bones wanted no part of this situation, but he couldn’t leave a young woman in danger.
“Please. You go now. Keep her safe. But go.”
One of the K-pop twins poked her head into the kitchen. “Those creeps are back. They’re asking for Sally and they brought the cops.”