Sixty-seven

“YOU ruined everything, Clare. This is a total disaster.”

“No, it isn’t. The crowd is enjoying the show. And did you notice, after the poets came off the stage, people were eager to speak with them, wanting to share their own bad experiences—”

“Bad experiences?! Are you an idiot? My app delivers happy endings! That’s the narrative. That’s the message!”

“I know that’s what you’re trying to sell, but there’s a bigger picture here to consider. Just listen a minute—”

“I’m leaving.”

I blocked her path on the sidewalk. “Please, one minute?”

She folded her arms and gave me a look that felt like it plunged six inches into my chest. I sucked in air and plowed forward.

“Believe it or not, we all want the same things. Even Esther—”

Sydney scoffed, but I kept talking.

“Tonight we officially launched our second floor as the ‘Shot Down Lounge’ for my customers and yours. When their swipe-to-meet dates don’t work out downstairs, they can move upstairs, into a community of people who are looking to find connections—and another chance at those ‘happy endings’ you claim to want so badly for your app’s users. Esther and I already talked it over. We’ll have live music, karaoke, and fun icebreakers for customers, like the open mic poetry slams—”

“More poetry? Like those awful ones tonight, you mean?”

“They weren’t awful. I thought they were truthful and human—and remarkably brave. Don’t you see? Esther’s idea to dedicate the lounge is a kind of ubuntu, a gesture for the community. It’s the best of both worlds, digital and physical, maybe even a chance for the worst app addicts to regain some self-worth, instead of desperately seeking it through swiping. Wait, don’t go!”

But she was already gone, her Tinkerbells trailing after her.

When I spied AJ’s brunette pixie in the exiting group, I impulsively hooked the girl’s arm. “Hold on, AJ. I want to ask you something. It’s important.”

With worried eyes, she nodded, and I lowered my voice. “When Sydney saw those sketches in our pantry, she had an extreme reaction. How does she know that Richard Crest character?”

AJ’s body tensed. “He’s someone from her past,” she whispered. “That’s all I know.”

I tried asking about Haley, but she broke away. Then she was gone, too. I considered chasing after her—as embarrassing as that would have been—but my way was suddenly blocked by a skinny, freckle-faced youth wearing a backward baseball cap and enough faux gold chains to open a hip-hop jewelry emporium.

“Yo, lady! I’m here for a hookup. A hottie named Kara wants to bump fuzzies with me. If you’d just point her out, I can induce the magic.”

“Kara?” I looked him over. This freckle-faced teen was definitely not Crest. “Sorry, Kara is, uh . . . underage, and her father’s in there lecturing her. I wouldn’t tempt fate. The man’s got a temper, and I think he’s packing.”

“Damn!” The kid couldn’t flee fast enough. “Peace out, lady!”