Find Me I'm Yours (32 page)

“Don't leave again,” she said quietly. “We can fix whatever's broken.”

I felt so bad for her.

“It's just…” she started to say, but now the crying was making her suck in her puffy bottom lip, which made it difficult to speak coherently. “You hab eberyting.”

I tried to decipher. I think she said, “You have everything.”

WHAT?!?! “Are you kidding me?” I shrieked. “I'm broke, have no job, no boyfriend, no career, no past that's true or real.”

She giggled like I was just saying those things to make her feel better. But I was just stating the obvious. “You, on the other hand”—I tried to think of some esteem-building compliments—“you've got lots of fans, jobs, you have money, you're beautiful, and you have guys falling all over you.”

She just shook her head. “I'd rather have what you have,” she said, now a bit more intelligible. “All my life I've been told I'm shallow. That I'm bland. Some guy once called me beige and I thought it was a compliment! I love beige! Until I realized what he meant.” She turned away slightly. She couldn't look at me and say what she was going to say. “You're so interesting. Creative. Deep. I want to be seen like that. I want to be that.”

Wow. Sheesh. “But by hijacking my life?” I asked. “It doesn't work that way.” It almost pained me to say it but I did—“Look at how real you're being right now. You have depth in you. You just always cover it up.”

“You mean that?”

I actually did. “Yeah, I actually do.”

“I've never really had friends,” she confessed. “Girls always think of me as competition. Like I'm out to get their guy.”

“Gee, I wonder why they'd think that?!”

“I know,” she said. “It happens a lot. But it's only cuz the guys pay attention to me.”

I stood up. It was time to ask, and I couldn't in such close proximity. “Is there any new guy? Did anything happen at the Herlesque Club?”

“Huh?”

“I saw you there.”

“The other night? I was looking all over for you. Why didn't you come say hi?”

“I was supposed to be meeting someone—like a blind date. What were YOU doing there is the question!”

“I hoped if we ran into each other you'd maybe hang out with me.”

“Seriously?!? So why were you there with Whitney?”

“That pretty girl? I thought it was weird she had the same shirt on as I did. So I just started talking to her.”

“And?”

“When she asked where I got it and I said I borrowed it from you…”

“Borrowed?!?!”

“I was gonna ask you once I saw you.”

“Whatever. What else did she say? Did she tell you anything?”

“Just that you guys were in some sort of club together. That's all.” She paused for a second then added. “Can I join?”

“No, you can't join. You took the shirt from me. That's not cool!”

She started crying again. She looked like she was about eight years old. Well, an eight-year-old with giant fake boobs.

“Look, how about I take you shopping some time?”

“Would you really do that?” She wiped her eyes with my top sheet, leaving makeup stains. Great. “Sorry I'm Miss Waterworks tonight.” She hugged me again. “Thanks, Maggie.”

“Sure. I gotta do some stuff now, but it was nice talking with you, Shari.” I actually called her Shari.

She left the room. It was crazy. A lifetime of stuff had been crammed into two weeks. Time was flying in a new speed-of-light realm. Which meant that the sixteen hours I had left to figure out two more clues were gonna flash by in just seconds.

I had better get to work.

THE DAY—MORNING

OH. MY. GOD. OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!

How did this happen????????????????

At midnight, in the middle of my research, my spider bite was bugging me so much I took a Benadryl and with the combo of sleep lack, it knocked me right out cold until 10:22 a.m.!!!! REALLY?????? At this particular time?? On this particular day?? THE CLOCK WAS TICKING!

I woke up with my computer still on my lap opened to my just barely started LOCK research. I'd had only sixteen hours to find Mr. WTF and I ended up spending over twelve of them asleep!!! What was wrong with me??? Now all that was left was one hour and thirty-eight minutes until noon. And why couldn't I see at all? I looked in the mirror—my eye was completely swollen shut now. Ah… perfect. But this was no time to feel sorry for myself. I picked up where I left off. I had looked up:

www.locksmithsla.com
(a locksmith company in Los Angeles)

www.locksla.com
(nothing)

www.lotsoflocksla.com
(nothing)

www.lotsoflocks.com
(Laguna Beach Hair Extensions)

Next I simply Googled LOTS OF LOCKS and found an organization that provides hairpieces to financially disadvantaged children suffering from long-term medical situations that have caused hair loss. I added it to a growing list of places I'd donate to once I had some cash. Halfway down the Google listings, images for “LOTS OF LOCKS” caught my eye. I clicked through to the images page and was totally blown away by an infinite scroll of pics like this:

When I clicked on several of them, the blog posts or articles mentioned the Hohenzollern Bridge in Cologne, also referred to as the Love Bridge. As I went down the windy path that Google is, I finally ended up on Wikipedia, which explained, “
Love padlocks
(also known as
love locks
and, in Taiwan,
wish locks
) are a custom by which padlocks are affixed to a fence, gate, bridge, or similar public fixture by sweethearts at an increasing number of locations in the world to symbolize their everlasting love.”

Well, couples placing locks on fences to symbolize them being locked together in love was MUCH more on track as opposed to hair-extension salons or an antique lock exhibit in Missouri!

Fuck, Mr. WTF, whoever TF you really are, stop being so damn romantic and ingenious, will ya?!?!

I went back to the Wikipedia page and clicked on the link
increasing number of locations
and then clicked on
UNITED STATES
. Several places were listed—Chicago, IL; Springdale, UT; Brooklyn, NY. But nothing in L.A. So I Google imaged “
Locks on Fences Los Angeles
,” and one of the pics that came up TOTALLY BLEW ME AWAY!!!! There was indeed a love-lock fence in L.A. Where?

IN MY FREAKIN' NEIGHBORHOOD!!!!!!!!!! SWEARS!!!!!!!!!!! I COULDN'T MAKE THIS SHIT UP IF I TRIED!!!!

Like a block away from the Good Luck Bar!!! How had I never seen it before?!?! Well, as I recently realized, there were plenty of things I never noticed B.H. (before hunt).

Maybe fate was finally on my side. I ran out of the apartment to Lola, hopped on her, and sped down Sunset toward Los Feliz and the fence. When I found it, I realized why I probably hadn't noticed it before. It was not nearly as love-filled as all the fences around the world in the pics I saw. But that kind of felt appropriate. Fresh. Like brand-new love.

So now what? He did say that my key would match a lock and there WAS one lock that stood out among the professions of love, not only because it was the only old one my antique key would “fit,” but also…. Well, take a look-see:

I was surprised the police pup didn't have a polka-dot tongue!

I tried to see if the lock would come apart and I could get it off the fence, but it was, well, LOCKED. Then I started looking under rocks on the ground—maybe there was a hidden real key? Oh, and maybe not. Could there be messages on the surrounding locks pointing out some clue on mine? No. Fuck. It was already 11:12. I had just forty-eight minutes to go. Once again I examined the old lock carefully and noticed only one thing—on the back. There was an engraving that said,
CLARKE AND SONS CO. 5554 N. Figueroa St. Highland Park. MFR FEB. 28, 1921.

Helpful. NOT. If the lock was made in 1921, what were the chances of Clarke and Sons still being around? I whipped out my phone and Googled CLARKE AND SONS CO. Most of the companies were in the UK, including 1.) Quality solicitors (whatever those are), 2.) A heating and plumbing company, and 3.) Funeral directors. So next I Googled the address. It showed a map, but nothing else. Was I supposed to go to that address in Highland Park? Now that I had faced my fear of being splattered across freeway lanes, I could jump on the 5 and then the 110 and maybe get there in time. If I was on the wrong track, that would be it for the hunt. Done. Finito. End of the line. But what else did I have to go on? I guessed that this would be the final test. If I was supposed to meet Mr. WTF, then I was on the right track. If not, then I also would be on the right track—I would just have to surrender, believing that it was my destiny to NOT find him, and promise myself to not always wonder. Could I do that? Probably not. But I could figure that out later. Now I had better get my ass to Highland Park ASAP to see what fate awaited me.

THE DAY—MORNING

I jumped on my scooter, turned it on, revved it, and then started to peel out. Uh… STARTED to. I heard a sputter, sputter, and then silence. I tried again. Nothing. Are you fucking kidding me?!?!?! I ran out of gas at that very moment?!?!?! For real?!? Everything seemed to be conspiring against me—from the spider on. But I had come too far and gotten too close to give up now.

I called the only person I could think of who might be nearby, had a car and no job. Luckily I had his phone number in my recent calls from when he was looking for Coco that fateful fucked-up night.

“Blake? Thank God you answered. Where are you?”

“I stopped by my house. Why?”

“I need your help big-time and fast. Can you come pick me up right away in Los Feliz? I'll explain everything.”

“Sure,” he said. Then, “Hold on.” Coco got on the phone.

“Why didn't you call me? I thought we were good?”

“Aren't you at work?”

“I left early to talk to Blake.”

“Sweet. Shit, I'm so sorry to interrupt, but can you guys take a short break and get me? I ran out of gas and only have like forty minutes to get to Mr. WTF.”

“For real? Do you know where he is?” she asked excitedly.

“I guess we'll find out. And bring all of your makeup. OH—and some Benadryl!”

Nine minutes later (who was counting?), Coco and Blake pulled up in the truck. I squeezed into the front seat.

“Jesus, you look like a Cyclops,” Coco exclaimed.

“Thanks.”

“Here, take the Benadryl.” She handed me a pill and a bottle of water.

“Is this even going to make the swelling go down or am I just going to fall asleep again and drool all over Mr. WTF? If I even get to him in time.”

“You'll be fine, and oh, we'll get there in time.”

Blake floored the gas even more as we tore down Vermont.

“Hey, Blake.”

“Hey, Mags.”

“I'm so happy to see you guys together, I could one-eye cry!”