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“I don’t know who she is,” he says. “That’s the problem.”
“I don’t understand,” Smitty says.
“This is going to sound a little crazy, but I’ve been having…conversations…with my wake-up call girl.”
He’s got our attention now. “Conversations?” I ask.
He gets this faraway expression. He sucks in a breath.
“Are we talking phone sex here?” Smitty demands.
“No. I mean, yeah, but it’s more than that,” Theo says. “We talk about everything,” he says.
“But to be clear, phone sex is involved,” Smitty presses.
Theo says nothing. I take it as a yes. “Jesus,” I say.
Smitty just laughs.
“You’ve never seen her,” I clarify. “You literally have no idea what she looks like…”
Theo shakes his head. “No information about her whatsoever. I’ll find her, though. I’m scouring this fucking city.”
“You know she could be a total troglodyte,” Smitty points out with his usual sensitivity.
“I don’t give a shit.” Theo gazes out the window at the people going by. “I have to find her.”
He looks exhausted. Is he even sleeping?
I nod. “Dude. Hard to find a woman who doesn’t want to be found.” I should know.
He tells us the scant details he has on her. We brainstorm ways to find her.
I tell him about my attempts to find Vicky. How I sometimes scour the jewelry collections, but nothing I see ever comes close to what she’d make.
Nothing feels like her.
Or maybe I’m just getting further away.
“Speaking of makers and their studios, you put a bid in for that London thing?” Smitty asks me.
“What London thing?”
“The huge warehouse share studio—Redmond or something?”
“I haven’t ever heard of it,” I say.
“That’s weird. You have a UK presence. I would think Locke would be the first firm they’d invite to bid. It’s the kind of shit you guys have been getting off on lately. It’s some big cooperative makers space. Freaking huge. Reclaimed urban ruin, neighborhood integration…”
I sit up, interest piqued.
He goes on to outline more features…familiar features. “We bid it, and it’s not even our thing.”
“Are there places to eat, sleep?” I describe the ideas I had for the Southfield Place Studio.
He nods his head. “So you do know about it.”
“The owner’s not named?”
