“You’re nottheJess, are you?” she asked, her eyes twinkling.
I had no idea what the woman was talking about, but I offered up a friendly smile. “Um… I’maJess. Does that count?”
“Oh, sorry.” She giggled. “I just assumed you’d heard of the quest to find Jess.”
My brows furrowed as I picked up my cup. I think I would have remembered an expedition in my honor.
“I have not.” I grinned, taking a trial sip of my coffee. “What is this quest you speak of?”
“Quinn McKallister from Sketch Monsters?”
The coffee was halfway down my throat when I choked, the brew spraying out of my mouth like a hot liquid sprinkler.
“Oh, my god, are you okay?” The woman rushed to grab some napkins for me.
Wiping the coffee from my chin and off the counter, I nodded as I tried to explain my behavior. “Fine, just… that was some hot coffee. Go on. Quinn? Sketch Monsters?”
“Oh, right. It’s all over the internet. Even Jimmy Kimmel picked up on the hype and did a bit on it last night on his show, calling the search Jesserella… you know like, Cinderella and the glass slipper. Only this is Jess and the question.”
If a swarm of bugs invaded the coffee shop at that very moment, they would have drowned in my open mouth. Nothing seemed to be functioning properly as questions rattled through my brain.
“What, uh… what do you mean by Jess and the question?”
“In order for him to know it’s her, she has to answer a question.”
“And what is the question?”
Almost breathless in her delight, she replied, “Ah, it’s so romantic. She has to know the place Quinn wanted to go the day they met. I heard his social media accounts have been flooded with women whose feet don’t fit into the slipper, so to speak.”
I fought the swoony smile threatening to give me away. What was he doing? Did he really want to find me that badly? I stood in place, processing the information before realizing how suspicious that made me look. The barista’s eyes widened like she’d just uncovered a coup.
“Do you know where Quinn wanted to go, Jess?”
Oh no. Abort mission. You are a damn-near professional liar—so lie!
Holding up my coffee cup, I smiled and thanked her. “Damn. I’m outta luck. I got nothing.”
But as I turned to leave, my heart soared as I tossed the answer around in my head.
Someplace fun… but not too fun.
* * *
If I thought the legend of Jesserella was just going to pass over limply like a deflated balloon, I was wrong. I couldn’t escape the question as it just kept popping up throughout the day.Are you that Jess?inquiring minds wanted to know.Even the littlest mind I knew, my own son, demanded an answer once he’d arrived home from after-school care.
“Did you know that the man talking to reporters that day when I went to work with you is looking for a girl named Jess?”
“So I’ve heard…over and over all day long,” I said, slapping peanut butter onto some bread before handing it to him and probing for more. “How’d you find out about that?”
“My teacher. She asked if it was you.”
His teacher? Was that appropriate? She really shouldn’t be bringing up the subject of my love life to my eight-year-old son. There went her end-of-the-year gift card.
“That’s a weird thing for Miss Usman to ask you,” I said, deflecting.
“Not really. Your name is Jess.”
“I know, but…” I shook my head. “What did you say back to her?”
