Page 9 of Anti-Player

My mother, who I adore and would go down fighting in a brawl for, continues to live in Orange County in my childhood house. I see her often—I make the hour drive to her place every weekend to help with groceries. She's never been to my apartment for... many reasons.

I message Juliet as I walk.

:

Me: I'm heading toGreen Spoon.

Juliet: omw

:

The restaurant is crushedbetween a florist and an old computer repair shop that seems out of place in this day and age. Signs all over the front proclaim they fix cracked iPads, broken Playstations, and more. I don't know how they can afford the rent to stay in business. Most people I know just replace their broken phones or laptops with new ones.

Through the dirty glass I see a single person behind the counter—a young man, maybe my age or close, with a full beard and plain black tee. He meets my eyes, I look away and hurry towards the Green Spoon's pale yellow door.

The bell in the top corner jingles as I enter. It's brightly lit inside, the space only a bit bigger than the Palm cafe. That thought darts along my brain, forcing me to recall sitting with Mikel earlier, our bodies brushing under the table.

I'm... strangely excited to see him again. The longer I'm allowed to dwell on the situation, the more I recognize the opportunity. Mikel is so genuine about his goal. I've never met a tech-bro who cares about their products. Only shitty guys with dollar signs in their eyes.

Though, Mikel did share the same out of touch energy as other keyboard-warriors. He'd blamed his team for never telling him the truth, but there's no way to deny he should have seen the obvious flaws in the Secret Reader. He's smart in an educated way. Naive as a puppy. The combination of being a rich CEO with good looks means no one has the balls to be honest with him. I won't be as weak as his employees.

But... with how mumble-mouthed I got around his glorious smile... that would take effort.

“Hi there!” a bubbly woman with short red hair in a bright yellow and black jumpsuit says to me. “Dining alone?”

“No, a friend is coming,” I answer. “Can I wait for her over by the window seat?”

“Of course, go right ahead and I'll get you some menus!” she chirps.

I've eaten here a few times so I know what I'll be getting, but I'm the kind of weirdo who loves eyeballing menus and imagining how something new will taste, even if I get the same thing every time. What can I say? I'm consistent.

I don't wait long—hadn't even ordered a drink—before the door-bell jingles again. A tall woman with strong arms bared in a sleeveless white top that looks brighter next to her tanned skin walks through with purpose. Her green and black hair is pulled into a loose braid, the kind I'm never able to do on myself despite watching so many YouTube tutorials. “Juliet!” I yell, waving.

My friend spots me and smiles wide. “Hey!” she says, walking my way with a quick glance at the hostess, confirming for everyone that she's here to sit with me. “I'm starving, how are you, and also tell me what the hell happened?”

I laugh and put my face in my hands. “You won't guess.”

Her green eyes sparkle as she sits across from me. “Spill it all.”

The hostess approaches us—I give my friend a meaningful look. She knows the silent code for When we have privacy. “Can I get you girls some drinks?” she asks us.

“Kombucha for me,” Juliet says.

“Coke. I need the caffeine,” I explain. Once the hostess walks out of ear-shot, I focus on Juliet. “Guess who showed up at my door?”

“Who?”

I wait a beat for dramatic flair, but I can't hold back anymore. “The guy who designed the Secret Reader. Mikel Hause.”

“No!” she gasps.

“Yes!”

“Oh my gosh, he saw your review?”

Putting my hands over my eyes with a nervous laugh, I nod. “He was watching everything.”

“He must have been pissed off!”

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