"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.

Chapter 61.

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.

Chapter 62.

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!"

Coco smiled and started applying my makeup. With her magic touch, I was bound to at least look... semi-human. Then something hit me so damn hard, I gasped for air.

"Are you OK?" Coco was alarmed. "Don't tell me you're having an allergic reaction to an allergy pill!"

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!!!! THE SHIRT!!!! I don't have the shirt. Everything has said I'd need it, and I bullshitted my way through the past two clues without it. What if I'm not allowed in where he is if I don't have it?"

"Where is it?" Blake asked.

"At my apartment. But we don't have time to turn back to get it."

"What about the Hacktress?" Coco asked.

"She booked a job today. Fuck. There's only one thing I can think of." I pulled out my phone and dialed.

"Jason? Hey, it's me. I need a huge favor and will owe you for the rest of my life if you do it for me." At this point, it would be worth the debt.

"Go on," he said.

"You still have a key to my apartment?"

Chapter 63.

THE DAY-SIX MINUTES LEFT.

Twenty-nine minutes later, we exited the freeway, turned left and drove straight for a few blocks, then made a right on Figueroa. We passed a bank with a huge clock on it. 11:54. Just six freakin' minutes to solve one last clue that could lead me to, what? I wasn't even sure what the pot of gold at the end of this rainbow would be.

A car swerved into our lane. Blake pushed onto the horn. "Watch where you're going, jackass!!!"

Coco and I tried to stop him. You're not supposed to do that in L.A. Someone could get out of their car and shoot you. But if someone in a road rage came after us now, we could just use the quite effective disarming technique I had learned last night from Shari. Simply hug our assailant. Thankfully we didn't have a chance to try it out as the guy just flipped Blake off and continued driving.

Three blocks later, we found the address to the lock shop. We jumped out of the truck. "You check the front," Coco said to me, taking charge, "I'll take the side, and Blake, you go to the back alley." They ran off just as Jason pulled up and honked. Boo and Toupee were in the car. I kissed them all over then grabbed the shirt and put it on.

"I'll call you later and explain everything and pick up the kids. Thanks so much, Jason. You're awesome." I think I actually meant it.

Jason waved and took off, leaving me at the front door of the lock shop. Only it wasn't a lock shop anymore. It was an abandoned storefront with broken, barred windows, and graffiti tagging all over it. Fuck. I looked at my phone. Only three more minutes. I banged on the door. Nothing. I heard both Blake and Coco banging on doors and windows and calling out. "Anyone in there? Hello????" Nothing.

I saw that the building next to the old lock company had an accordion metal fence that was partially open, enough to expose their door. I ran over and knocked and rang their bell and knocked again. And someone answered. Out of breath and totally freaking out, I said, "I'm looking for Clarke and Sons Co. It's a lock company, and I believe it used to be next door?"

A cute Asian pixie woman with short yellow-blonde hair and a halo of platinum ends circling her face opened her door farther. "Come in," she said. "I'm Amy. I can tell you all about Clarke and Sons."

"That's sweet of you," I panted, "but I desperately have to find someone and I have, like, less than a minute left to do so. Any lock companies nearby? Anything in that space next door now?"

"Sorry," she said. "It's been gone a long time, and there are no other lock companies around."

Fuck. Now what? I just breathed heavily in a panic, paralyzed, not knowing my next move. And then, from inside the storefront where I still stood in the doorway, a grandfather clock started striking in an alto tone. One. Two. Three. And then a cuckoo clock joined in the chorus. Four. Five. Six. Another lighter bell was chiming, too. Seven. Eight. Nine. And they all played together. It felt like a scene in a movie-I was waiting for the town's church bells to start pealing. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.

And then that was it. Silence.

Time up. Case closed. That's all folks. I lost. Clearly Mr. WTF was not my destiny. I was always prepared for the fact that this could happen-that I might not have found him, or I was Catfished after all. I had it worked out in my head. But apparently not in my heart. I started crying. Well, from the one eye that wasn't swollen shut.

"Come on in," Amy said, taking my hand and closing the front door. Through my tears I could see a studio full of paintings, sculptures, wood carvings, and odd knickknacks. An artist's studio. Maybe like one I could possibly have some day when I grow up, if that ever happened.

"Very cool," I managed to get out.

"Want a tour?" she asked, not even bringing up the fact I was a stranger in her space, crying.

I just nodded and wiped my eye and nose on my sleeve.