“Mission City’s profile just went up.” After putting the containers of chili and soup in the fridge, I grabbed my plate and can of diet cola and headed back to the living room.
“Hopefully in a good way. That our profile went up. I mean, the bad guys were caught, right?” Finn pointed to his plate. “This is amazing.”
“Make certain you tell your mother that I’m feeding you.”
“Oh, she’s back from her cruise. She met a nice couple from Hope, and they’re driving her home. She says they want to introduce her to a professor who teaches over in Abbotsford.”
“Introduce her?” I put my plate on the dining room table and dug my laptop out of my messenger bag. “Like, romantically?”
“That’s what she implied. Hey, what are you doing? You need to eat.”
“Yes, Finnegan.” I opened the laptop and connected to his WiFi.
“I’m serious. Whatever you’re doing—” He cut off.
I turned to face him. “What?”
“Is that your phone buzzing?”
“Yeah.”
“Ulysses, it’s pretty much buzzing nonstop.”
“Yeah.” I turned back to the laptop, located the email from the producer, and pulled it up.
Finn cleared his throat. “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, checking to see who’s messaging you?”
“I will.” I carried the laptop over to him and put it on the coffee table. He’d have to squint, but he didn’t really need to see my mug up close—and he knew what Jake looked like. I pressed play, and then I headed back to the dining room table to grab my rapidly cooling burger, fries, and onion rings.
With only half an ear, I listened to the interview. As I devoured my burger, I scrolled through the hundreds of texts, DMs, and comments to my post on social media.
Spring’s newest message popped up.
—You better be driving or getting laid or something important. Shit’s blowing up.—
I blinked. Probably the clearest indication of why I had so damn many texts. Three more came in even as I took another bite of burger.
Surreal.
For years, I’d wanted this level of attention. To be noticed. Writing for the Vancouver Sun had been a feather in my cap—but I’d wanted more recognition. To be seen by a wider audience. Judging by the interest I was garnering now, my interview with Jake was even bigger than I’d realized it was going to be.
“Ulysses?”
“Hmm?” I turned my attention to Finn.
He pointed to the dark computer screen.
“Oh, did it turn off? I can—”
“I watched the entire interview. And ate my entire meal. Your food must be cold by now. And your phone is still buzzing.”
Offering a sheepish grin, I nudged a French fry. “I should nuke these again.”
My phone screen flashed.
—The rot in Mission City goes deeper than you know. Meet me on Friesen Road. Two miles past the dump. Come alone. —
I stared at the phone.
