Page 14 of Deep Fake

What did I have to lose?

I brought the burner phone Sketch asked me to get and left the rest at my apartment.

I arrived on time and sat at the table he told me to. I was sure he knew what I looked like. My pictures were on social media like nearly anyone else’s.

Our whole lives were online for the world to see.

I ordered a coffee in a to-go cup and waited. And then I saw him sitting at a table nearby with his hood pulled down, sunglasses hiding his eyes. Something about his jawline seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place it. He stood and came to sit at my table.

“You’re Sketch?” I whispered, making sure I was sitting across from the intended person and not just some hooded stranger.

Wait, he was a hooded stranger. From the internet. My stomach sank. How stupid was I?

“I am. And you’re Malone. Malone Davis Rochester. Pretender.”

All three names. Still, anyone could find that out.

“I am. Thanks for adding that. Good layer of freak-out.”

He cursed under his breath, but when the waitress approached, he ordered food and coffee. “You didn’t order food?”

I shook my head.

“I hope you don’t mind that I did.”

Clearly, he wasn’t nervous.

That made one of us.

“You have a lot of information online. Anyone could get to it. It was too easy.”

“Everybody does. I’m a nobody. No one. I have no money. Nothing to steal.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Sometimes who you are is what they steal. Or they’re just doing it for fun.”

I took a long, deep breath. Tried to get my head on straight. “Well, I don’t give two shits about why they’re doing it anymore. Funsies. Or pranks. Or jokes. I want it to end. It’s ruining the little life I have.”

“I’m gonna help.” The waitress delivered his iced macha and, to my surprise, he put the fries and churros between us. “Eat. You look like you haven’t eaten and slept in weeks.”

“Way to tell me I look like shit.”

I ate a handful of fries. Goddess, he must’ve been hot in that black hoodie. The sun was getting higher in the sky by the minute, and even I was sweating.

The moment descended on me.

I was sitting in a café with a person I somehow met online and was trusting him to get me out of a mess I had no hand in creating.

When did my life turn into this?

I ignored the stirring in my stomach, telling me to believe in this man and be wary of him at the same time.

He finally finished eating and sat back. “Are the devices in your car? I don’t see a bag.” Craning his neck, he looked around me.

“No. I didn’t bring them.”

“Why not?” A bit of his cool cracked.

“Because I don’t know you from anyone. For all I know, you could be the person harassing me.”