Denise has me text Kobra.
Meet at your place? Tomorrow?
10 pm. I’ll pic u up.
Gross.
When I step out of the police department I know I’ve done the right thing.
* * *
I might not know who I was or what I wanted before, but I know who I am now. I was born last Tuesday, which makes me a Gemini. I can’t remember the whole Gemini myth—something about Castor and Pollux and one of them dying. At any rate, Old Mia is dead and New Mia is #indahouse, cleaning up all the shit that Old Mia left lying around. That bitch was messy.
As for my love life…a part of me still thinks it’s nuts to give up on a relationship with the most forgiving billionaire in the world, but New Mia wants to be with Max. I know that with absolute certainty. He’s a little stupid, as Fay proved, and he might be bad at sex. But he’s also the kind of guy who helps a deranged stranger solve the mystery of her identity without (too much) fuss, he knows where the best tacos are, and…I feel like myself when I’m with him. My actual self. Whoever she is.
I have a plan. I’m going to woo Max the same way I do everything: through Instagram, but with a radical new approach—at least for me.
No filter. No editing.
I take a selfie in front of the Long Beach Police Department. I look like hell and I know it. My face is shiny and my mascara is smeared. I’m still wearing my yellow dress. It is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but I use the first shot I take. I want to do another one at a slightly better angle, a picture where I’m making less of a dumb face, but I go with the first take.
To me, I look really bad, but in reality, it’s how I look in this moment on planet earth. I look like reheated, six-day-old tater-tot casserole. That’s literally what I am. It’s not like I stick out. Most people look like warmed-up leftovers. That’s why Instagram invented filters in the first place.
I type out my caption without overthinking it.
I am @Mia4Realz. I’ve been online for years, but this is the first time you’re meeting me. Before, I was a fake. The new me is 100 percent honest, no filters, no Snapchat, no lies. Why the change? I woke up to find that I’m wanted by the police for check fraud, my bank accounts are empty, and someone tried to kill me. I’m a mess, but I’m going to get it back together. I will post pictures on my journey to figure out who I am and what happened to me. Follow along!
I immediately get a bunch of likes and lots of comments. Most of the comments are sad emojis. But I see a few comments on photos from the weekend, too. OMG, @BlackEinstein314 is sooooooo cute. Heart eyes heart eyes!
Good luck!
Following along.
I text Max with a link to my profile with an updated bio:
Criminal charges and debt: in progress
Love life: in progress
The rest: Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.61
Three dots appear and then they disappear. It’s not a rejection. It’s not approval, but I’ll take it. He’s thinking.
58 It seems like every part of their relationship was “fine” and Max didn’t notice.
59 For the sake of argument, let’s pretend I know my true self.
60 Sorry, therapists everywhere!
61 Definitely Catholic.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
As luck would have it, Denise is leaving the station at the same time as me and gives me a lift to GoldRush with a gruff “As long as I’m dropping you off at work.” She seems thrilled (relatively speaking) to support me in: 1) moving on from the boyfriend she didn’t trust, and 2) earning money at legitimate employment. When she sees where she’s dropping me off, she sighs, looking a little disappointed and very unsurprised. “Jesus, Wallace. Try to keep your clothes on.”
I point at the Prada gown that I’ve never been out of and say, “They’d have to pay me a lot to take this off, obviously,” and she actually cracks a smile.
Before I walk in, I take a selfie for my honesty project. The GoldRush sign is lit up behind me. I caption it: I work here. I do the books. I can’t imagine that “doing the books” is a full-time job. I tag Max. Now that I’m going full disclosure, I consider explaining how I stole the name and advertising materials, but it’s too much to get into.62
Inside, I find Crystal. She’s wearing sequined lingerie and five-inch heels with the same level of comfort that a nurse wears scrubs. I wonder how she holds down two jobs, takes care of a baby, and still manages to keep everything shaved. Instead of inquiring about that, I ask how she’s doing.
“Oh you know…” She shrugs. “Getting ready for work.” She looks seriously unenthused.
“How’s it going with Jules?”
“Mmm.”
I take that to mean good.
I kick back in a chair and put my legs up on a low table. Crystal slides a plate of cheese sticks closer to me for sharing. “Thanks,” I say. “I’ve been thinking about GoldRush. I’m really proud of it in some ways, but then again, it’s basically just a way to get sugar daddies for us.” I shake my head. “I don’t know. I’m thinking it’s missing something. Like…instead of marrying millionaires, maybe we should become millionaires.” I’m joking but not.
Crystal laughs like I’ve said the funniest thing on the whole planet. “Girl, I can barely afford to get someone to sit for my kid while I’m working two shitty jobs. How in the hell am I going to make a million dollars?”
“I know,” I say, “but still. It seems a little 1950s of us to just try to marry millionaires. Like maybe we should go to college or something.”
“Whatever. I’m just sick of taking the damn bus. Fuck feminism.”
The bus does suck.
“What if I restructure GoldRush to be some sort of human capital investment thing? Like I could get the millionaires to invest in your ideas or something.” I take a bite of a cheese stick while I wait for her thoughts.
“Ideas?” She laughs like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “I’m no dummy, but I ain’t sitting on the next big app or anything.” She locks eyes with me to communicate how serious she is. “Matchmaking is perfect. We got the booty and the ballerina credentials or whatever they want. They got the money. No one’s taking the damn bus. Bam!”
I frown hard. There must be a better way, but she’s right—the bus sucks and it’d be nice to be with a guy with money.63 And Mia 2.0 might be friendlier than the original, but she doesn’t have any better ideas. “I got a few more guys interested, so our pool of sugar daddies is growing. All thanks to Jules. His posts have really blown up.”