Chapter 3

Maxine turned the memory card over in her fingers, eyes moving from it to the USB card reader plugged into her computer.

It wasn’t a good idea; she’d learned that in the past, but she couldn’t help but wonder. She had gone straight to Brooks’ office after the Uber, only to find him gone, and the place a wreck.

Brooks’ office was always a wreck —he didn’t exactly employ a cleaning service, or any personal conscientiousness in that area— but there was something off about it. The unfinished cup of coffee, for example. A full, paper cup. Why hadn’t he taken it with him? Even worse, a rolled cigarette in the ashtray next to the open window, which had burnt in a way that said it had been left lit, just sitting there until it went out. It was a wonder that a gust of wind hadn’t led to the whole building burning down, and she was sure that the comic book store and dry cleaners on either side would not have appreciated it.

There was also a small attic room above the office, which was a sad excuse for an apartment, in Brooks’s words. She would never tell him so, but Maxine thought it was pretty cool. To have your own office, and to be able to sleep above it. It was something like a dream to her, and not just because she’d seen it in a movie, but because she’d never really had her own place. One that felt like just hers.

At present, she lived with three roommates in a third-floor walk-up apartment that cost far more than it was worth to rent. The driving up of rent prices in the area had been happening steadily, particularly because of all the fancy high rises being built everywhere. 

Her building was not fancy. It didn’t even have little balconies, but sported instead some of those old-fashioned, wrought-iron fire escapes, complete with peeling rust and the threat of a Tetanus shot if ever she had the misfortune of puncturing her skin on a particularly sharp bit.

She glanced over to it, momentarily watching the late afternoon sun shine over the rusty railings. Her eyes then drifted to the orange glow over the building across the street, and she found herself wishing she the ability to paint, or even adequately photograph such a thing. As it was, her skills in photography consisted mainly of covert shots she took while undercover, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d even seen a paintbrush.

Shaking herself from her momentary reverie when she heard one of her roommates shout in the living room, she stood and crossed to her desk. Instead of popping the memory card into the reader, however, she put it back into her desk drawer.

Brooks had made her promise not to look at it, and though he’d seemingly disappeared, she needed to hold out a bit longer. Yes, the circumstances of his leaving the office seemed rushed, but that could be for any number of reasons. There had been no sign of a struggle, and she had no logical reason to worry. Plus, he had done this before, just disappeared without a trace. One time, she’d gone sleuthing after him, only to accidentally blow his cover in some other case she didn’t know he’d been working. No, she would exercise restraint this time. 

She emerged from the bedroom to find her roommates all in predictable positions. The shout she heard had made sense from the other side of the door, but even more so when she laid eyes on the scene.

“You’re playing on console?” Maxine said with disdainful surprise on behalf of her friend.

Arden didn’t look at her right away, still engrossed in her game, but managed to mutter, “Something’s up with my computer.”

Ah, that explained it. Arden was a gamer, as well as a Streamer, and always played on her computer, except on rare occasions like parties, where they might get a Mario Kart tournament going.

Arden continued playing what sounded to Maxine like Call of Duty, or one of many other shooting games her former college roommate loved to play. Then, she yelled in frustration, swishing her high ponytail of pink hair dangerously close to another roommate. 

Eashan, who then realized he was sitting far too close, scooshed over on the couch with a, “Whoa! Watch where you’re aiming that thing!”

Arden had met Eashan online. Not, like, in a dating sense, but in a nerd-buddy sense. He was a fan of her Twitch channel, but an early one, and they had become friends long before Arden took off. When he posted about moving to the area, they had been looking for roommates, and the whole thing just worked out perfectly.

“Come sit, Eenie,” Eashan said, motioning to the spot he’d just vacated. Eenie was his nickname for her, and since she’d never been given a nickname involving the last three letters of her name rather than the first, she’d felt rather charmed by it.

With a laugh, she said, “Uh, I’d rather not be blinded by the pink whip of death, thanks.”

Then, she sat on the arm of the chair their other roommate, Derek, was lounging in, reading a modern-looking copy of Moby Dick. Derek was also from the internet, but more of a rando. Eashan had posted about the need for one more roommate, and someone Derek knew passed it along to him. After meeting him, the three of them had decided that he passed their test —had a ton of money— and allowed him to move in. It turned out that they meshed well as a group, and so six years later, here they were.

“Yo D-Rock, how many more pieces of classic literature are you gonna flaunt in my face before you read my new blog post?” said Eashan.

“As many as it takes to get you to stop asking,” Derek said blandly, not looking up from his book.

When Eashan scoffed, however, Maxine saw a small smirk play at Derek’s lips.

“You’re such a dick, Derek— NO! WHAT?!” Arden cried at the screen, and Maxine turned to see that she was playing Halo. Maxine was not much of a gamer, but in this game, she did enjoy changing the little outfits on the soldiers or whatever.

The whole group fell into a quasi-argument, teetering on the line between joking and serious, while Maxine’s mind wandered again. This time, to Miles.

He wouldn’t really go back to the catering hall, would he?If he did, she could just imagine the scene. Pulling up and finding Enrico easily after going through the front entrance. Recounting the scene and what happened. Enrico cornering him and demanding to know where he dropped her off.

Maxine shook her head to clear it, reminding herself that Enrico didn’t know she had the card. He might have suspected it, but the likelihood that he would go looking for her was… low. Right?

Plus, she was an excellent judge of character, and something told her that Miles wouldn’t go back to the hall in the first place.

Arden had just put the Xbox controller down and was cleaning her glasses using a little cloth she always seemed to have on her. As she did so, Maxine noticed that she was eyeing her suspiciously.

“What’s up? You seem… something.”

“I’m not something,” Maxine said far too quickly.

Arden merely quirked an eyebrow in response, and yet the effect was that of having been yelled at. “LIAR!” her raised brow had shouted.

Maxine winced in kind. “It’s work stuff that I can’t tell you about, but—”

“But what else is new,” Arden said, with a kind smile.

Eashan looked up from his computer and leveled her with a wide grin. “You know what I’m gonna say.”

“Eash!” Maxine whined.

“What? I will never not recommend journaling to get your thoughts out.”

“You don’t journal, you Tweet! To actual people who read it! There is no way in hell I am doing that; I don’t do social media.”

“Ugh, here we go again,” said Arden, as she stood and crossed over to the kitchen.

Derek, who was doing a great impression of Belle from Beauty and the Beast with the way his nose was stuck in his book, snorted a small laugh.

Before he could follow up the snort with words, Eashan cut back in.

“You don’t even have to use your name. You don’t have to use any name! You could be a… a bowl of soup!”

“A bowl of soup?” said Maxine. “Bowls of soup… Tweet?”

“YES! ALL THE TIME!” Eashan said, and Derek put his book on his lap so that he could lean forward and lay a consoling hand on Eashan’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, bud, we still believe your friends are real.”

Derek shared Maxine’s dislike of being a Public Persona™ on the internet, while Eashan and Arden were all-in on it. They were a funny little four-way odd-couple, and as far as Maxine was concerned, this made up for her lack of both siblings and parents.

Her dad had never been in the picture, and her mom had died in childbirth. Raised by her grandmother until she passed away when she was fourteen, Maxine spent the remainder of her years as a minor in foster care. All-in-all, it was not the worst thing that could have happened to her. It gave her the ability to apply for certain college scholarships, which, combined with her perfect grades, had resulted in a full ride to Rutgers to study Psychology and Criminal Justice.

“You guys are just haters,” Arden said from inside the fridge, into which she was leaning. She then popped out holding a cherry lime seltzer and slammed the door shut. “Offline haters, at that,” she said, motioning to Maxine and Derek. “Super weird breed.”

“I have just as much right as you do to hold with disdain activities I do not participate in, Arden,” Derek said, motioning to his book.

“Excuse me? Are… are you implying that reading is an activity I don’t participate in?” Arden said with narrowed eyes.

With a righteous smirk, Derek re-opened his book and said, “Listening is not reading.” Then, he winked at her before settling back against the chair cushion to continue reading.

Maxine could tell that Derek was just trying to get a rise out of Arden. She exchanged a look with Eashan, one they’d been sharing a lot lately, the more the tension between their roommates amped up.

She and Eashan had a bet going about when the two would finally transition one of their arguments to a violent make-out session. If it happened tonight, she would win, as Eashan had been counting on their idiocy to last a while longer. At this point, however, she found that she didn’t care about the money as much as the end of the palpable tension. She would let Eash keep the money.

With a gasping shriek, Arden launched herself at Derek, whose copy of Moby Dick flew into the air to make way for his assailant. A moment later, Arden was cackling as Derek tickled her ribs.

“St–st— STOP IT!” Arden cried before tumbling back into a fit of giggles.

Maxine turned briskly to Eashan and said, “Fire escape.”

When he didn’t immediately follow her, she called over her shoulder, “Bring your laptop if you have to!”

That did the trick; after a beat, his footsteps were not far behind hers.

He followed her to her bedroom window and out onto the fire escape. The sun had gone down in that brief time she’d spent in the other room, and the full moon was already casting an eerie glow on their street.

“Oh, hell yeah,” said Eashan, looking around. “I always forget to go outside at the full moon.”

Maxine tried to suppress her laugh, but couldn’t help it as she said, “You forget to go outside, period!”

“Hey! Leave the hostilities to the unresolved sexual tension twins in there.”

“You’re right, sorry.”

Maxine leaned against the railing, while Eashan took a seat and opened his laptop.

“Come on, I’ll make you an anon account. Oh! I know! We can call it MaxSoup as a play on Maxine. Let me see if it’s available…”

She was vaguely aware of what Eash had said, but as she stared out at the buildings now cast in shades of blue, her mind had wandered —again— to Miles.

Miles Pérez. Puerto Rican —like her— judging not just by the name, or the Anthony Ramos bone structure, but by the pop socket stuck decoratively to his car’s sun visor. “Puerto Rican Swag,” it said. She’d taken in so many small details about him in the first five minutes of sitting in his back seat that nothing he recited to her from his Tinder bio had surprised her.

The car wasn’t neat as a pin, but it wasn’t dirty, either. It was… comfortably lived in, yet functional. She thought he must be responsible, probably a family-oriented guy. There were movie ticket stubs for Inside Out 2 on the floor in the back, and she was pretty sure he hadn’t gone there on a date. Could have been left by an Uber passenger, sure, but somehow she’d doubted it.

Before she’d even gotten in the car, she’d noticed the fading Six Flags bumper sticker on the back of his car. Only roller coaster freaks worshiped theme parks enough to brand their cars with those logos.

The broken engagement was intriguing, but he seemed like a hopeless romantic, and she suspected he got his heart severely mishandled by some careless girl. Sad, but that’s what you get for believing in love.

“Oh no!” Eashan cried, breaking her from her reverie.

“What?!”

“I forgot that Max Soup is literally a Pokémon. This doesn’t work now. I made the account for nothing.”

With a genuine laugh, she said, “It wasn’t going to work anyway, I am never using that account!”

With a defeated sigh, he slapped the laptop shut and said, “Fine, you win. As usual. They’re probably in there winning the bet for you, as well.”

“Aww, sorry Eash. Your Euro-trip spending money will be mine after all,” she said with zero malice or true intent.

“Not so fast, one of us has to confirm it.”

He held up a fist, inviting her into a game of rock, paper, scissors.

“Right now?!” Maxine said.

Eashan shrugged. “Just a peek. If they’re doing it, they won’t even be in the living room anymore.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, I’m hopeful,” he said with a small smile. “Now, come on.”

She played the game and won with paper over rock, and Eashan groaned before dutifully climbing back inside the apartment to go and spy on their friends.

Almost the instant he was out of earshot, a voice rose from the street below, and it was a good thing Maxine was holding on to the railing, or she might have fallen over the edge from shock.

𓂃🖊

“Maxine, Maxine, where for art though, Maxine?” Miles called up to her. He knew it was supposed to be Juliet who said those words, not Romeo, but to be honest, he only realized after the line had left his mouth.

“Miles?” she called down, “What the hell are you doing here?!”

He smirked to himself upon hearing the exact words he’d expected. This wasn’t psychic ability, it was just easily predictable.

Shoving a hand into his pocket, he withdrew a minimalist lavender wallet and held it up so that the metal along the edge would glint in the streetlight.

“You dropped something,” he said, smiling, even though he’d just had one hell of an afternoon trying to track her down. The way she leaned over the balcony to get a better look almost made him lurch forward, ready to catch her.

With a gasp, she said, “I left that in your car? And you’re only now bringing it back?!”

“Easy there, Juliet, I didn’t notice it right away, and once I did,” he paused here to clear his throat, and also for dramatic effect, “I wasn’t sure which one of the addresses was actually yours.”

Her eyes went wide, as they likely should. Because, truly, who needed that many fake IDs, or identities for that matter?

Con artists, he had settled on as he thought it through during the intervening hours. They start as thieving, pickpocket kids until they level up and get into the real grifts. He knew a few of them, grew up with them. And as soon as he remembered this, Maxine began to make sense.

A con-artist. A professional liar and scammer. And he almost hadn’t clocked it. Almost.

Her only saving grace was that she really had given him her real name… or so it seemed. That could have been a move to make him think she was trustworthy.

The way he saw it, she was probably always either paying someone off or manipulating them. She’d done a bit of both with him. Mostly the former.

He truly could not complain about that, though. The money she gave him, dirty as it may be, was going to go a long way in helping his grandmother with her unpaid medical bills.

“You went to all of the addresses in my wallet?!”

He puffed a bit of air out of his nose. “Not the Brooklyn one. If that was you, I was givin’ up.”

“So… you didn’t come here first? I mean… I told you my name.”

“I did come here, but no one answered the door. This was me loopin’ back around. Good thing you were out here, I think your buzzer’s broken.”

Just as he said this, the guy he’d seen earlier hopped back out onto the balcony and looked down. “Oh, hey! Do you need to get in?”

“Yeah, thanks, man!” he said, and strode over to the door of the building to await the buzz. As he did so, he could hear Maxine’s shrill protestations in the distance, but couldn’t make out the exact words. The gist, however, was that she was pissed at the guy for offerring to let Miles in.

A good amount of time passed before anything else happened, when suddenly, the front door sprang open and there stood…

“Maxine.”

She sort of sat back on one hip and began eyeing him from head to toe.

It made him feel some typa way, but he shook his head and reminded himself… a con-artist… probably a con-artist.

“I believe this is yours,” he said, holding up the wallet.

She reached for it, but just before she’d taken hold, he pulled it back, examining the Ridge logo as if he hadn’t already Googled it.

“This is an interesting little device, the way it stacks your cards together,” he said, noting her barely suppressed distress upon being teased by him.

She’d been the same way in the car, and somehow, he imagined it was rare for this girl to feel thrown off. By anyone. Heat surged in his chest as he watched her scowl at him, keenly aware that she was fighting back a smile.

If this was an act, it was a damn good one, he thought.

He was going to leave, he just wanted to again feel the thrill of getting under the skin of someone like her. That dynamic was powerfully addictive. He knew that. But he just wanted one more taste…

“I’d never heard of this brand before. How did you find it?”

With apparent ease, she tossed a casual thumb over her shoulder and said, “Eashan showed them to me. He’s a gadget kinda guy, you know, very… internetty.”

She wiggled a hand with that last word, and Miles could not help his smirk.

“And did you meet him on the internet? I thought you didn’t use apps.”

He found it rather adorable when her eyes went wide, then chastised himself for it. She was someone he needed to get away from, not move towards.

“Oh no! Eash is like my little brother,” she said, motioning back over her shoulder again. “That’s gross, actually, please never imply that again.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Miles, smirking at the inference that there would be more time together in the future, then recoiled slightly, noticing how quickly he’d been reeled in.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” she said, “he’s a handsome little fucker, but… no.”

“I got it,” Miles said, nodding.

“Oh, so you aren’t gonna ‘Methinks the lady doth protest too much’ me?”

“No, I already used Shakespeare wrong once tonight, I ain’t gonna chance it again.”

She shrugged and said, “That’s smart, actually, the ‘methinks’ goes at the end, but people always say it wrong.”

“Fuckin’ people, huh?” he then said, feeling his face melt into a genuine smile.

He felt a small swoop in his belly when she returned the smile, matching the energy of his own, and said, “Fuckin’ people.”

When she held out her hand, it took him a moment of blinking down at it to register that she was requesting her wallet.

“Oh! Sorry,” he said, handing it over, and as their fingers brushed, it was that same buzz he’d felt when she’d put her hand on his shoulder in the car. More intense this time, since they were skin to skin.

He jumped slightly, but she either didn’t notice or pretended not to, instead becoming seemingly fascinated with her wallet.

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice it was missing,” she said, after a long pause.

Miles shrugged. “It happens more since paying from phones became the norm. At least you have it now.”

For a moment, she held his gaze firmly, clearly struck by his words for some reason. Then, without moving much more than her lips, she said, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said with a small smile.

She held his gaze a beat longer than was socially acceptable, in his opinion, yet he couldn’t bring himself to complain.

Suddenly, she shook herself and said, “I feel like I should throw you more cash, but you took the last of what I had earlier.”

A stroke of genius hit Miles in that moment, and he did not hesitate.

“In place of cash,” he said, “will you answer just one question for me?”

“Depends,” was her immediate response.

“I’ll take it,” he said, then took a deep breath before saying, “What do you do for a living? Because, to be honest, my brain has been trying to come up with a charitable interpretation for why someone could need that many fake identities, and not much has occurred to it.” He gave his head a little tap tap with two fingers as he said this.

With a raised brow, she seemed to be deciding something for a long moment.

“Apprentice to a Private Investigator,” she said finally, in a matter-of-fact tone. “What did you think I was, an escort or a con-artist?”

His brows pressed together automatically. “A escort wouldn’t necessarily be an uncharitable interpretation.”

“Depends what kind,” she said, quirking a brow, “but don’t change the subject.”

“Fine, you’re right, I thought you were a con artist. But you’re a PI apprentice, nice.”

“I prefer lady detective,” she said.

“Oh, is your mentor a woman?”

With a laugh, she said, “No, Brooks is a man. I was referring to myself.”

Her eyes went wide once again, and she looked up at him in apparent distress. “Forget I said that name. I don’t know why, but I keep telling you things I don’t mean to tell you.”

“A lot of passengers unload on Uber drivers, but I seem to have that effect on people in general.”

“Interesting. I usually have to try a bit to engender trust.”

“Are you saying you trust me, Maxine Alvarez?”

“No, I—”

“Fair enough, forget I asked,” he then turned and took a few steps away before making the quick decision to turn back and lock eyes with her. “Can I see you again?”

It wasn’t exactly the way he meant to phrase it, but it was how it came out.

When she merely raised both eyebrows, he chuckled to himself and said, “Sorry, I know you don’t date, I just meant… do you wanna hang out some time? As friends?”

She stared back at him blankly now, as if this was a question she’d never been asked in her life.

Once it became clear that the staring was not going to abate without some external force, he went on to say, “You don’t have to answer me now, but you have my card. Text me if you wanna chill.”

It worked.

“Wait,” she said, breaking free of her trance, “You didn’t give me your—”

“It’s in your little wallet, Lady Detective Alvarez,” he said, then threw her a grin before jogging across the street, getting in his Civic, and driving away.

𓂃🖊

As Maxine watched him go, she muttered a single word aloud to herself. “Fuck.”