Find Me I'm Yours (29 page)

And of course what had recently become my favorite—messages speaking right to my core:

And that's just what I left San Francisco with. A connection with my dad that I never had dreamed of before, and a sidewalk full of ideas.

DAY 12—NIGHT

Apparently way more people come to San Francisco than leave it. At least on the 12:50 p.m. bus back to L.A. Not only did I have my own two seats, but also they were mercifully at the front of the bus, far away from the stanky bathroom. These things weren't all that was different. I was too. It was time to take back my power. Time to live an UNcursed life. Maybe that even meant that I could get a job I actually enjoyed? Live in a place I loved with cool people? Make and sell art for real? So many possibilities had opened up. But they would all have to wait just two more days, because what was most important now was finishing the hunt.

I texted Liza.

She hit me back immediately.

Feeling better than I had in months, I took off my glasses and snuggled into the corner of my seat against the window. I hadn't really slept in days, but last night's reason—jamming seventeen years of my dad into one long night—was the best by far. Now was the perfect opportunity to catch up on some much-needed sleep. I started drifting off, finally letting my body go, feeling the first sense of peace I'd felt in such a long time. Suddenly there was something on my face. Something alive. Something
crawling
. I smacked it hard. OUCH!!! The motherfucker bit my eye!!!

How can spiders be so much smaller than people, but torture us way more? This is what I should have done.

But instead, the spider scurried down my shoulder and arm and ran off to some other unwitting victim.

Oh well, sleep is highly overrated.

After an eight-hour, twenty-minute ride, with six stops (including three visits to vending machines for me, featuring a KitKat® bar, LAY'S® Salt & Vinegar Flavored Potato Chips, and some Red Vines® washed down with instant coffee), we arrived in downtown L.A. By now, the spider bite itched like hell.

Despite my huge protests, I discovered that Dad had slipped $200.00 into my coat pocket when we hugged goodbye. But now I was actually delighted that my pride hadn't won out. Not only could I pay Jason back, but I could also take a cab to my apartment instead of walking for hours.

It was time to confront the Flacktress. Tell her to stop freakin' stealing from me!!!!! Ask her what happened at the Herlesque Club after I left. See if she had figured anything else out, and was now on the hunt for Mr. WTF herself. I had only thirty-seven and a half hours left to find him at some still undisclosed location, and I ran out on my last clue in a fit of insecurity. Should I go back to the Herlesque Club? Is destiny, or Destiny, still there? Or do I move on with the clues I already have?

As the cab pulled up to my apartment, I saw a figure sitting on the stoop. It was too short to be S.H.A.R.I. (And besides, I don't think she'd ever plant her expensive enhanced ass on ANY outdoor steps!) It could have been anyone waiting for anybody in the building. But when I got out, I saw braided pigtails, cat-eye glasses, and bright red lipstick.

“Hey,” Coco said.

“Hey.”

“Before you tell me to go away, please hear me out.”

“OK,” I said, still standing. She seemed surprised that I didn't put up a fight.

“I know how badly I fucked up. And it might have cost me the two most important things in my life—my marriage and my best friend.” She stood up. “I came back early from Florida to fix this. I'm so, so sorry about everything. I've been hanging out here since early this morning, waiting to apologize in person.”

Now I sat down. “I just don't understand why you couldn't have told me about Mark. Why did you feel you had to lie to me?”

Coco's eyes welled up with tears. I realized that in the almost two years we'd been friends, I had never seen her cry once, while she had seen me cry, oh, probably five hundred times.

“I was just so ashamed,” she explained. “You always said when it came to relationships, Blake and I were your role models. I didn't want to disappoint you, didn't want to be the one to burst your bubble. I actually love that you have hope. I lost it a long time ago and I didn't want you to lose it, too.”

Wow. I mulled it over. I could see what she was saying.

She continued. “I know it sounds crazy, but in my mind I was being a good friend by
not
telling you what was going on.”

“But by dragging me into it? Letting me start to like Mark?”

“I honestly didn't see that coming.”

“No pun intended…”

Coco smiled. Sort of.

“I actually thought that was pretty fucked up of Mark to let that happen,” she said. “But whatever.”

“Well, I think you and I were both using him anyways to distract us. Me from my past, you from your future.”

“True that.” She sat back down close next to me. “I just felt that Blake was sucking the life out of me. I wanted to feel a spark. I needed to feel alive again. Mark helped me do that.”

Now I felt bad for Coco.

“But I'm done lying and cheating. And you know the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you. Swears.”

“I know.”

She looked right at me and asked, “Will you forgive me?”

Before I even could, she pulled out her iPad. “This Tumblr might not be as elaborate an apology as Jason's IFckedUp, but I think you'll agree that S.H.A.R.I.'s knee boobs trump all.”

“What are you saying?”

“Yep,
www.kneeboobs.com
!”

“Shut the fuck up! HYSTERICAL!”

There, at the top of the site, was S.H.A.R.I. in all her glory.

Coco had found some other random knee boob pics and uploaded them as well. AND there was a place for other peeps to submit and share their own. (So what are you waiting for?!)

“You're freakin' crazy and that's why I love you!”

Coco took a deep breath. “So, we're good?”

“We're good.” I lifted up my hand to high-five and we connected on the third attempt. Then we hugged.

“By the way,” Coco added, “whatever you said to Blake—because of you, he's at least talking to me now. Thank you.”

“Do you think you guys can work it out?”

“I don't know. There's a lot of stuff there that made me cheat to begin with, and now I don't know if Blake can ever get past this. But if you can forgive me, at least there's hope.”

“Go talk to Blake. If you're meant to stay together you'll work it out. If not, you'll know you tried.” I then repeated something my dad had said. “At least this way you won't be left wondering.”

“For sure. And you? I'm not seeing Mark anymore. I swear. He's all yours if you want him. I know he's really into you.”

“Honestly, it just sorta feels like being with him would be like Jason all over again,” I answered. “I'm going after destiny. Whatever it ends up being. I'll be sure to let you know what happens, Catfish or not!”

“Yeah, sorry about that, too,” Coco said. “I was just being protective. I really hope you find Mr. WTF and he's all you ever dreamed of and more.”

“Thanks.”

After Coco left, I braced myself as best I could before running into the apartment to get my computer and charger. I would then go to Fred 62, an all-night diner, and get back on track with the hunt.

S.H.A.R.I. wasn't home, and I was actually kinda relieved. Everything since my visit to San Francisco felt so drama-free. Maybe it was the start of a trend. Perhaps from here on in, my life would be easy and uncomplicated.

Then again…

DAY 12—NIGHT

Clues I Gathered, and What I Ate at Fred 62 While Spending the Whole Night There Gathering Them

By Mags Marclay

1). Someone had actually spotted what very much looked like the Dog with the Polka-dot Tongue, and posted the pic on ISpottedYourDog.com!!! It was taken at the Venice Dog Park, which was not too far from the Villa Seaside Apartments, so it could all fit. OR it could be the third time I thought it was her only to find out it was SO NOT. (“Bearded Mr. Frenchy”—French toast with a crispy cornflake coating.)

2). I found approximately eight more GIANT THINGS in L.A. including a few awesome ones that are no longer there—my fave being some large Mexican figures, which looked like the Bob Baker fiesta marionettes on steroids. (“Hippie Sandwich”—Avocado, thick tomatoes, alfalfa sprouts, and melted jack cheese on multigrain wheat.)

3). I got an email from stripteasela.com—a welcome letter that might have a clue in it!! (“Lil' Bow Wow”—a hot dog from the kids' menu.)

I read the email over and over. If this site was only meant for me, Whitney the Victoria's Secret
S
model
S
, and whoever else may or may not be in the running (literally!), then the email that was sent HAD TO be a clue, right? Or was it actually a real site and they just let Mr. WTF put that pic up there of the hunt graphic in the TV screen at the Herlesque Club?

OK, the site looked too cray cray brill to be real, but who woulda thunk a giant boot car would really exist?! There were pics of Sylvia in action, and a poster that stated her skills: “Cunning Clairvoyance! Titillating Tarot! Extra Sensual Perceptions!”