Page 16 of Love at First Sighting

El

“So, what is G-Babez?” Carter asks as we begin our drive to the archive.

“It’s a gaming gear company,” I explain. “When you told me what Leonard was like, I totally knew he’d want to get in with them. I didn’t even have to give him my samples of their energy drink powder. I brought them just in case.”

“So, you just…called up their brand people?”

I nod. “Yeah, I’m very charming, and as it turns out, the gamer circles don’t know about my…well, they don’t know I’m being exiled from beige bitch world.”

“Maybe that’s your new brand!” he says cheerfully.

I know he’s trying to be encouraging, but the more time passes, the more I know I won’t be able to go back to my old life.

Or my old brand. There’s part of me wondering if I even want to.

The longer I spend with Carter, investigating our mystery, the more I think going back to a life where I take pictures of smoothies and sustainable linen shorts seems so dull and adventureless.

The problem is, I don’t know what the hell else I’m supposed to do.

I don’t know what a girl like me, with my skills, is supposed to do in life.

I doubt anyone’s going to take me seriously as anything more than a hot girl with great tits.

Which is not a bad thing, but will it make me happy forever? Does it even make me happy now?

“Or maybe stealth-chic will be,” he continues, glancing across the front seat at me.

His eyes glimmer under the moon and his smile is bright and conniving enough that I’m actually committing espionage with him.

He’s got his hat tilted forward, one knee pressed against the dashboard, and one hand clinging to the safety handlebar above the window.

I know I’m a good driver, but Carter still grips it tighter whenever I make a sharp turn or merge too quickly. We opted to take my car because it makes far less noise and will make a better getaway option if we need it.

I put on one of my self-help podcasts as the city lights of LA vanish behind us and we drive into the darkened mountains. Carter asks if manifesting really works. I tell him it’s mostly a matter of believing and positive visualization. So, he positively visualizes us not getting arrested.

We pull up to a shoulder on the road, close to the pathway we can take up the mountain. As we park and unload from the car, Carter sighs and sets his hat back in the right position on his head.

“El, there’s time to back out of this if you want. Trust me, I’ll be fine on my own.”

I can’t tell if he wants me out of the picture or not. I’m not sure if Carter sees me as an impediment in some way, like I’m just some pretty girl with nothing else to offer. I have to prove him wrong. I need him to know I’m far more than filters and sponsored content.

“No way. I’m coming with you. This involves me, too.”

“I know,” he says with a groan. “But I don’t want you to get hurt. This is shady PIS business and you don’t deserve to be dragged into it. You can always wait here.”

I shake my head. “No. You’re not doing this alone.”

Our eyes meet, and I realize it’s not dismissal in his expression. It’s care. He’d care if something happened to me, but I have to do this. Even if the only person who truly has answers is me, I’ll know that what I went through was real. Bonus points if I can convince everyone else.

“I went to Fyre Festival,” I say. “I can handle anything.”

Carter’s lips part in a defeated sigh and his eyes slip shut. “Okay. Okay, let’s do this.”

It takes us less time than before to hike up the mountain and we’re both familiar with the terrain now.

“There’s got to be a better way to get up here. Could you imagine if you worked at this place? Parking down there and climbing up here?” I ask.

Carter huffs out a laugh and places his hands on my waist to steady me. “Careful. I’m sure they have a parking garage somewhere out here. We just weren’t given a pass.”

“Rude.”

As we approach the embankment, Carter slides one earpiece in place and gives me the other. He crouches beside a rock and looks at the open clearing in front of us. The steel door is within reach, but I watch the skies, knowing our hovering friend might be lurking in wait for us.

“All right, Leonard,” Carter whispers. “We’re in sight of the entrance.”

“Great,” Leonard says. “Is the coast clear?”

I put my finger up to my lips and listen closely to every sound around me.

There are waves lapping in the background, the distant rush of traffic, Carter’s anxious breathing.

Somewhere deep in the mix is a mechanical whirring sound I recognize in my bones.

I reach out, grab Carter’s jacket sleeve, and direct him toward a floating anomaly in the sky.

He nods in recognition and we both sink lower.

I’ve worn better shoes today—a pair of practical vegan sneakers I got through a sponsorship.

I don’t mind getting these pants dirty, either, so when the craft circles near us, I drop to the ground, lying completely flat, with Carter beside me.

He pulls his hat down as far as he can, covering as much of his face as possible.

“I hope these things don’t have heat sensors.”

“Why? Are you hot?”

Carter lifts up the brim of his trilby, revealing a devilish smirk. “I don’t know. You tell me.” Before I groan, he says, “But yeah, seriously, I am. I wear a suit and this is LA.”

“You’ve got a hell of a cologne, then.”

“Aw, you think I smell good,” Carter mumbles to the ground.

The whirring comes closer and I look to Carter, who seems less afraid this time than he did before. Instead of fear or shock, he’s determined. His family was torn apart many years ago, and this is how he finds answers. This is how he moves on.

I reach for his hand as the craft circles above us. Carter only glances at me for a second before weaving our fingers together. I hope we look like odd-shaped rocks, or dead bodies. The drone veers toward the hillside next to us and dips behind the bushes. This is our chance.

“Get up!” I snap.

I pull him to his feet, then we’re vaulting over rocks and bushes as we make our break for the door.

That craft will come back around and we need to be out of sight before then.

Carter finds my hand and clasps my fingers in his as we run.

I lead him down the embankment and around a series of jagged rocks until we arrive at the steel door positioned into the mountain.

It’s supposed to look like a big, discreet rock, but it doesn’t.

This is a drugstore-brand concealer level of effort.

“We’re at the door,” Carter says into the earpiece. Gears shift behind the door. “We’ve gotta get in before that drone comes back.”

“Gotcha,” Leonard says back.

Finally, there’s a beep and the door unlatches for us. I pull Carter inside and slam the door behind us.

“All right, you’re in. Looks like you’re coming up on a set of stairs that’ll take you down into the archives. I’ve got control of the cameras and can erase the footage from here,” Leonard instructs.

“Thanks, buddy,” Carter says.

The inside smells like stale air and cold steel. We take careful steps toward the end of the hallway and a rickety metal staircase that creaks as Carter sets a single foot on it.

“I told you we were underfunded,” he whispers.

“You weren’t kidding.”

As I reach the lower level, Carter holds a hand out for me and I take it. Then he quickly nudges me behind him.

“Holy shit,” he mutters.

What stands before us is aisle upon aisle of shelves holding filing boxes and a row of computers near the back of a frigid basement.

The ground is made of cracked concrete, and the ceiling is lined with harsh fluorescents.

When was the last time anyone even went through these?

No wonder they’re getting rid of files. It’s like a hoarding situation in here.

As I step inside with him, I latch on to his dark jacket, and out of instinct he reaches behind and clutches my wrist. It says I got you and I’m not used to the feeling.

“You’re invisible,” Leonard instructs.

“Great,” I say. “Let us know if anyone’s coming.”

Carter paces forward, his fingers skimming the boxes. With each touch, fibers rub off the cardboard boxes and flutter to the floor. I follow Carter as he investigates, matching his composure carefully. He’s the agent, after all.

Every sound we make feels deafening when we know it could tip someone off to our location.

As much as I trust Leonard to guide us, we might run into an unforeseen enemy down here all on our own.

Computers beep softly and the harsh hum of a generator echoes through the building.

Even the squeak of Carter’s sneakers feels like a roar in here.

Of course this is when I have to sneeze.

“Salud,” Carter whispers.

There are six rows of floor-to-ceiling filing cabinets and little indication of how things are sorted. Carter moves down the center lane, eyeing the tab on each box. He slides one off the shelf and flips the top open.

“HR complaints,” he says as I open another box on the other side and say, “Expenses?”

Carter keeps thumbing through documents. He finds a particularly interesting one and leans over to me, our shoulders brushing. “Holy shit, they actually fired someone for clogging the toilet too many times? Brutal.”

“And ‘holy shit’ is right.”

The harsh light cuts shadows all over his figure and I follow them from the brim of his hat to the sharpness of his cheekbones to the sly curl of his smile as he looks over at me.

His hair is a golden glow, with a lock falling in front of his face, eyes obscured by the hat.

I know how this goes in the movies—a single lamp, a detective’s shadow, a femme fatale.

“These go by date,” he mutters. “So we’re somewhere in the seventies—eighties are over there. Okay, we’re looking for the mid–two thousands.”