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The apartment was no longer empty. It was becoming cluttered by ideas. Tiffany was building an imaginary stage that she felt would make a perfect replacement for Glen and Maryanne's bedroom. Italian Bob and Luca Domingo Domingo were sitting in the kitchen, which they had decided would provide more value as a green room. Maryanne's three new business partners had also decided that the empty apartment wasn't empty enough for their ambitions. To get more space, they had already reached out to Maryanne's landlord to inquire about leasing the downstairs apartment as well.

Maryanne had long since stopped engaging with the three of them. They were caught in a "Great Idea!" feedback loop, where any suggestion was met with an outburst of "brilliant!" and immediately paired with yet another "brilliant" idea. 

The three were so caught up in their after-hours genius that they hadn't noticed Maryanne sneak away to check the Glen window on her laptop. Glen created the web address long ago to let Maryanne view whatever feed he was currently installing. He had asked her to check it from time to time, another set of eyes to ensure he hadn't started taking jobs that were too unseemly. She had never used it, but it had been hours since she'd heard from Glen. 

As she scanned the window though, all she saw was 7 angles of an empty intersection, no sign of Glen or of anything else. Maryanne was cycling through the angles once more when Italian Bob set a fresh bottle of champagne next to her and said, "I think I'm gonna need your landlord's cell. I'm still not getting a callback from the office line."

Maryanne checked the time on her screen and said, "That might be because it's three in the morning."

"Really?" Italian Bob sighed as he checked the time on his phone, "I thought we were past three and settled into at least 6 or so. Regardless, if we don't lock in that downstairs lease..."

"You do realize," Maryanne said, "that somebody already lives there."

"Okay," Italian Bob shrugged at this seeming triviality and continued, "But do you have the cell number?"

She did, but wasn't about to give it to Italian Bob, who was still speaking in a full-throated party shout in-between excited swigs of champagne.

"I'm just saying," Maryanne continued, "Unless the people downstairs break their lease, you'll have a hard time getting it."

Italian Bob puzzled this over for a moment before inevitably grinning widely and shouting. "Fucking Brilliant!"

He started jumping up and down.

"Tiffany!" he shouted as he bounded toward her "Start jumping!

"Ok!" Tiffany shouted and began jumping up and down without asking why.

Domingo Domingo started jumping as well, then shouted, "Why are we jumping?"

"We need to piss off the neighbors!" Italian Bob replied.

"I fucking love it!" Tiffany replied, "You should crank up the app too!"

"Perfect!" Domingo Domingo shouted, and immediately set their bluetooth speaker vibrating across the floor.

To ensure their noise and bouncing achieved peak annoyance, they bounced in unison, first forward, and then in reverse throughout the apartment to make sure they repeatedly hit whichever section the downstairs neighbors might be in. 

As she watched their third reverse cycle, Maryanne remembered that Glen had set up the surveillance window with controls that enabled her to reverse the footage and scrub back through whatever footage had already been recorded.

After a minute of scrubbing backwards, Glen finally entered the screen. Maryanne slowed the footage to normal speed and watched as onscreen an SUV door opened. She watched as Glen spoke briefly with the man who emerged. She continued to watch as, a few moments later, Glen entered the SUV and it drove away. And then the window was once more as it had been, seven angles of an empty intersection. After scrubbing back to the live footage, Maryanne estimated Glen had gotten into the SUV over an hour ago.

Maryanne was brought back to the apartment by the sound of Tiffany shrieking as she slipped on a puddle of spilled champagne. The bottle she'd been holding crashed to the ground, sending a shimmer of glass and bubbly liquid in all directions.

"Eek! So Sorry!" Tiffany shouted with a grin that didn't look very sorry.

Domingo Domingo took a step toward Maryanne and said, "I would clean it up, but it's been a while since..." he trailed off and turned back to Italian Bob, "Bob, what do you use, like, a sponge?"

"Use your jacket," Italian Bob said, "When you're done you can get a replacement at the Club Monaco around the corner."

Domingo Domingo spun toward Italian Bob and pointed angrily as he hissed, "I have NEVER shopped at Club Monaco, Bob! You keep saying that shit everywhere we go and people will believe it's true."

Italian Bob walked over and hugged Domingo Domingo apologetically.

"You're right, you're right" he said to Domingo Domingo, then grinned widely and continued, "people do believe it's true."

But Maryanne barely noticed them. The moment the bottle hit the floor, Maryanne had been reminded to pull out her phone. In an instant, she had Glen's location up in "stalk me" mode. Now she watched as his blue dot moved slowly away from the city. She found herself wanting to tap it, drag it back toward her own, but she could only watch as it drifted away.

Italian Bob caught a glance at Maryanne's phone and said, "Look at that: Maryanne, the only sensible one among us, is apping in a cleaning lady."

"No," Maryanne said, still watching the dot, "it's my boyfriend."

"That's one loyal boyfriend," Italian Bob said as he watched the dot, "But isn't he moving in the wrong direction?"

***

Glen finally realized where he'd seen Baldo's driver before.

"He's the cook from your restaurant, isn't he?" Glen asked.

Baldo nodded and said, "He does a lot of things."

Without his apron on, Glen could see the driver's broad shoulders and thick arms straining against the fabric of his dress shirt. 

They were far from the city now, driving down an unlit interstate Glen wasn't familiar with. He hadn't bothered to ask where they were going.

"I think I've spotted a genetic trait that you and Lee share," Baldo said, "With most people, you can tell from their face if they're thinking about something. But with Lee, I found you could also tell how fast the wheels were spinning. You're the same way."

"How fast are my wheels spinning?" Glen asked.

"Too fast," Baldo replied, "You might get ahead of yourself."

"Okay," Glen said, "Then help me slow down."

"Sure," Baldo replied, "Some basics then: Lee and I ended up in the same group home in our late teens. Neither of us had been adopted. I was too old, and Lee had some health issues."

"What were the issues?" Glen asked

"Not really my place to say," Baldo replied, then continued, "After a few miserable months in the group home, we realized that between us we possessed everything we needed to get out of it. I could line up families who would adopt us, for a price. Lee was already contracting for a number of tech startups by then and was able to get the money we needed. But that was the extent of our relationship. Once the paper work was done and we were out of the home, I didn't expect to hear from Lee again."

Baldo checked his watch, then leaned forward and said to the driver, "You can slow down a little."

"Are we running early?" Glen asked.

"Somewhat," Baldo replied, "Nothing you need to worry about though."

"Do I seem worried?" Glen asked.

Baldo looked at Glen for a long moment, then said, "After almost 10 years of no contact, I'm reconnected with Lee. Who has just discovered the name of his birth father. Who is the same man responsible for the death of my father. What would you make of that, Glen?"

"I'd say it was like deja vu," Glen said, "mixed in with a little bit of fate. But I never thought there was such a thing."

"I never did either," Baldo replied.

***

"There, that's it!" Tiffany shouted over the roar of the engine.

"Would you stop fucking saying that!" Italian Bob shouted back, "It isn't a fucking Uber. We don't know what kind of car we're even looking for!"

They were once more in Italian Bob's Suburban, but this time Bob's assistant Jules, a frail 20 year old who's eyes looked to be watering with fear, was at the wheel. He was flooring the vehicle, as Bob had been ordering him to do.

"Go faster!" Bob shouted at him.

Jules, who hadn't said a word to any of them since getting behind the wheel, finally shouted back, "Bob, I am going 120 miles an hour! I literally cannot go any fucking faster!"

"Right fucking on, Jules! That's the spirit!" Italian Bob shouted and slapped him on the shoulder, causing the car to lurch dangerously into the left lane, before Jules jerked it back.

"Do that again," Domingo Domingo shouted at Italian Bob, "And I will euthanize you on the spot!"

"I'm trying to save a life here, goddammit," Italian Bob shouted at him, "Maryanne's fucking boyfriend has been kidnapped!"

"Everybody shut up!" Maryanne shouted back at them. She was in the front seat next to Jules, glancing up between the blue dot on her phone and the car up ahead.

She pointed at the black SUV ahead of them and said, "I think that's it."

"I knew it!" Tiffany shouted. 

"You said that about the last 20 cars we passed!" Italian Bob shouted.

"This is fucking AMAZING!" Tiffany shouted, "Can we do this every night?"

"I am also thrilled that we've found the car," Domingo Domingo said to Maryanne. He patted his suit pockets, and continued, "But I'm a little light. How much is the ransom?"

"Just ram it!" Tiffany shouted.

"Better to learn it now than later, I suppose," Italian Bob shouted, "But it's becoming obvious that none of you have any kidnap rescue experience. Jules, flash the brights a few times."

Jules did, and after a few moments, the black SUV ahead of them slowed and pulled over. Jules also slowed and pulled over just behind it. The SUV cut its engine and went dark. Jules cut the Suburban's engine as well and on the unlit interstate, suddenly everything was deep blackness.

"Somebody turn on a light Goddammit!" Italian Bob shouted.

In the back seat, Domingo Domingo switched on the overhead light, but as he did, he shrieked when he saw the driver of the black SUV standing in front of his window. The driver didn't react to the shriek. He only leaned in slightly to get a sense of who was in the vehicle.

After a moment, Maryanne rolled down her window and said to the driver, "We'd like to speak to Glen, please."

The driver didn't reply. He scanned the vehicle interior once more and walked back to the black SUV.

A moment later, another figure emerged from the black SUV and walked to their car. It was Glen. Maryanne jumped out of the car and hugged him tightly.

"Hey," he said, hugging her back, "How are you?"

She whacked him on the shoulder and said, "How am I? I'm running you down on the side of the road. What are you doing? Why haven't I heard from you?"

"I'm working," Glen said.

Maryanne pointed at the SUV and shouted, "That is not work! You are not working! Am I fucking worried about you, so don't give me that bullshit!"

But Glen smiled back and said, "I have to see Lee."

"No you don't!" Maryanne shouted, "I don't need any of the stuff from our apartment back, I don't want any more traffic to my fucking site, or any of it! I want you."

"I want you too," Glen said, "I don't want anything else."

They were silent for a moment, then Glen let let go of her.

"But I have to see Lee," Glen said and took a step away from her. Maryanne opened her mouth to object, but he cut her off.

"I'll see you back at the apartment," he said, and turned back to the black SUV. Maryanne watched as he got in and the SUV pulled away.

***

The house was at the end of a long dirt road, a 15 minute drive from the expressway exit. As dark as it had seemed on the unlit interstate, the seemingly impenetrable walls of trees running along either side of the road made it seem far darker. They absorbed the brights from the SUV, making them seem to grow dimmer as they drove in deeper.

The house at the end of the road was small and ordinary, not seeming to merit the length of road that drove up to it. As they pull up though, Glen noticed that someone inside had switched on every light in the house. The driver slowed to a stop, then got out and opened Glen's door.

"I hope you both get what you came out here for," Baldo said.

"You think that's possible?" Glen asked as he got out.

"Hard to say," Baldo replied, "I think I know why Lee's here. But you?"

Baldo shrugged. Glen nodded, then walked to the door.

Glen knocked and a voice immediately answered, "It's open."

Glen stepped inside to find that the house was completely empty. The entry way gave him views of both the living and dining rooms. The house was old enough that Glen could see rust stains on the floor where an old metal shelf might have been, or discoloration on a carpet or wall where a couch had once sat. But now there was nothing.

"In the kitchen," the voice called to Glen.

Glen could smell something cooking from beyond the dining room and walked toward it. He pushed open the door at the far side of the dining room to find Lee standing in a well-lit kitchen.

Lee was still wearing the suit he'd had on earlier that evening. He stood at the stove in a kitchen that, like the rest of house, showed the ghosts of long-ago habitation, but was now empty except for two folding chairs stacked against the wall.

Lee leaned against the stove. He was boiling a pot of hot dogs.

He forked a hot dog out and said, "Want one?"

"No thanks," Glen replied.

"Really?" Lee asked. He slid the hot dog back into the pot and gestured around the bare kitchen, continuing "I'm afraid it's all I've got."

"That's okay all the same," Glen replied, "They're not very good for you."

Lee chuckled, and said, "Where were you when I was growing up?" then laughed louder at his slip and said, "I mean, obviously, I know where you were."

"I know there's nothing I can say to make up for what I did," Glen said, "and nothing I can do --"

Lee cut him off saying, "You think? I do agree that there's nothing you could say to make up for running out on Ava--and me, of course."

Glen said, "I'm sorry --"

But Lee cut him off again: "No, you had it right the first time, Glen," Lee said with a tight grin, "There's nothing, really nothing you can say. And definitely please don't say you're sorry. But maybe there is something you can do."

Glen didn't reply.

Lee gestured at the two folding chairs.

"You want to sit?" Lee asked, "Sorry it's not more hospitable. I still haven't furnished the place."

"This is yours?" Glen asked.

"I lived here most of my childhood actually," Lee replied, then added,"You're sure you don't want a hot dog?

Glen shook his head.

Lee nodded and said, "But you will sit down, right? We're here to talk?"

Glen nodded and sat down.

"So this was the home of your adoptive parents?" Glen asked.

"Foster parents," Lee corrected. Not sure if Baldo explained, but when I was 3 I was diagnosed with Autistic Spectrum Disorder. High functioning--very high functioning if I do say so myself--but prospective adoptees look at that on a kid's bio and they start looking elsewhere."

"I'm sorry," Glen said.

The moment Glen said it, Lee grabbed the boiling pot by the handle and whipped it at Glen's head. He ducked, and the pot barely missed his head, thudding against the kitchen's wood paneling before spilling out onto the linoleum.

Lee took a deep breath, then grinned, "I told you not to say you were sorry, Glen."

Glen was silent.

"You must realize that I'm not your biggest fan, right?" Lee asked, "I put a great deal of time and effort into dredging up your past, attempting to ruin your relationship. Why would you come here?"

"To talk," Glen said.

Lee sighed and said, "Right. Let's talk then."

Lee sat down in the other folding chair and continued, "You were asking about my foster parents. I had a few, but these were my last ones. They weren't really parents, of course. I was more of a revenue stream for them."

Lee reached down and picked up one of the hot dogs that was on the floor.

"And this is what they fed me," Lee continued, "For 9 years. Two for lunch. Two for dinner. They told me I should be grateful because they were keeping me alive without beating or molesting me. But, it turns out, if you only eat hot dogs for the majority of your childhood, it does a number on your organs. I get migraines like you wouldn't believe, my arms and hands are numb most of the time, and I had to get a bag attached to my hip because I can't naturally expel my own bodily waste."

Lee looked at the hot dog for a moment then flicked it away.

"Anyway," Lee continued, "Once I had the funding in place, I hired some contractors to secure the house, secure my foster parents, and feed them hot dogs. A lot of hot dogs."

"Do you want to kill me?" Glen asked.

"Of course I do," Lee said with a grin.

After a moment he got up and said, "Can I show you something?"

***

As they reached the top of the stairs, Glen saw through an open door that there was still one last piece of furniture in the house.

"This was the office," Lee said as he led Glen into the small room.

Like the rest of the house, there were only faint reminders of the furniture that had once been in the room. But in its center there remained an old desk and an equally old looking desktop computer.

Lee pulled out the desk chair and said, "Have a seat?"

Glen sat down, and Lee stepped behind the desk, drumming his fingers on the computer's ancient-looking CRT monitor.

"My foster father, he only used it for porn and email. My foster mother, she liked that she could get all the tabloid gossip without having to go to the store and actually buy a tabloid. I used it to create a new life for myself."

Lee reached under the desk and flipped a switch. A moment later, Glen could hear a faint buzz as the monitor began to warm up. The CPU's loud fan switched on as well, causing Lee to chuckle.

"I gave it new guts," he said, "But I kept the housing and that fan. For me, that was always the sound of possibility."

"Is this what you wanted to show me?" Glen asked.

"Watch the screen," Lee said as it continued to warm up. A moment later, Glen was able to make out the beginnings of a silhouette. As the image sharpened, it began to take the form of a woman's silhouette. A moment later, Glen could see that it was Ava, looking directly into the camera.

"From the audio of your last phone call and the images I'd been getting from this feed," Lee said, "I'd assumed she was going away, some sort of vacation. But then she came back, almost as soon as she left. Set her suitcase down and set herself in front of one of the cameras I'd had installed. She's been sitting there, just like this, for hours. What do you think she's doing?"

"I have no idea," Glen replied.

"Really?" Lee said, "I think she's waiting for something."

"Waiting for what?" Glen asked.

Lee handed Glen a phone and said, "Waiting for you to call her."

Glen looked at the phone but didn't take it.

"If you really were listening to our call," he said, "you know she doesn't want to hear from me again."

"I did hear that," Lee said, "But I've also heard that people sometimes don't tell the truth. Look at her. She's waiting for something. She doesn't even know what yet, but she'll realize what it is once you say it to her."

"What am I going to say?" Glen asked.

"You're going to tell her why you left," Lee replied.

"She knows why I left," Glen said.

"Did you ever actually tell her though?" Lee asked.

"No," Glen replied.

"No, because you just disappeared," Lee said, and gestured with the phone once more, "But now you're going to tell her."

Glen didn't take the phone.

Lee rolled his eyes and said, "Come on Glen. You don't think I'm here alone, do you? The house is "secured." So hit the top button on the speed dial, look into the screen, and be honest for a change."

After a moment, Glen took the phone and pressed the speed dial button. Onscreen, he saw Ava's phone begin to ring. She picked it up and answered immediately, not bothering to look at the caller ID. 

"Hello," she said.

"It's Glen," he replied.

"Why are you calling, Glen?" she asked.

Whether she knew it or not, Ava's eyes were still locked on the camera, looking straight through Lee's screen.

"I'm calling to tell you why I left," Glen said, "back then."

Ava was silent for a moment, then said, "Okay."

"I have given myself a number of reasons over the years that felt better than this one," Glen began, "I could give one of those reasons now, but I think you deserve whatever truth I can give. And that truth is: I think I left because I didn't care. I don't think I ever really, truly cared about you. I know I didn't care about myself. And if I'm being truly honest with you, at the time I didn't think you had it in you to go through with a pregnancy. We were both very selfish then I think, wanting desperately to become something other than what we were. I've always felt a lot of guilt, obviously, for what I did, and rightly so. I think that's why I became interested in surveillance. I've always kept a camera trained on me ever since then. And I think it's because if I knew someone was watching, even if it was just myself, I'd be forced to be something other, someone better than the person I have always believed myself to be. I imagine that my leaving made you feel, among many things, very unwanted. But the truth is I don't think I really wanted myself then either. I figured that if you were foolish enough to want me, it would be foolish of me to want you. And it would be even more foolish for us to make a new life together."

Even though Glen knew she couldn't see him, he'd unconsciously lowered his gaze, unable to meet hers. When he looked back up, he could see she was crying, but with her mouth covered by a hand so that he wouldn't hear it.

"That's why I left," Glen said, forcing himself to once more meet her gaze as she continued to silently cry.

After a moment, Ava took a deep breath and removed the hand from her mouth.

"Okay," Ava said, "Thanks for calling, Glen."

Onscreen, he saw her cover her mouth once more. She took another deep breath and once more removed the hand from her mouth, then said, "Bye."

She hung up, and although Glen could no longer hear her, he could see her breaking down with sobs that shook her entire body.

Glen switched the monitor off. He stared at the blank screen for a moment, then looked back up to Lee, who was still standing behind the monitor. 

Glen handed the phone back to Lee, who said, "How do you feel?"

"I'm not sure," Glen said.

Lee nodded, grinning slightly.

"How did I know you'd say that," he said, then slammed the phone down hard on Glen's temple.

***

When Glen woke up, he was once more in the back of Baldo's SUV, slumped against one of the door handles. He lifted his head slightly, but quickly lowered it when he felt a repeated stab of  pain where he'd been struck. A potent sunrise coming over the horizon snapped his eyes shut again.

"What did you say to him?" Baldo asked.

"What?" Glen replied, still uncertain where he was or what was going on.

"Lee had asked me to take you to the house," Baldo continued, "But when I had asked if he needed us to stay and take you back to the city, he said no."

"A one-way trip?" Glen asked, rubbing his head and trying once more to sit up.

"Whatever you said," Baldo replied, "it got you a ride back. Lee also told me to give you this."

Baldo reached into the seat pocket in front of him and pulled out a manilla folder, which he handed to Glen. Glen opened it and saw that it was a press kit, for a company he was only vaguely familiar with.

"Date.ly?" Glen asked.

"I hadn't heard of it either," Baldo replied, "But if you believe their hype, they can determine, apparently with some degree of certainty, whether or not a prospective couple are compatible--some proprietary chemical/psychological evaluation. Lee had initially invested on a lark. But it appears he just purchased a controlling share, significantly increased its funding, and made you its CEO."

"What?" Glen asked, flipping quickly through the press kit, "Why would he do that?"

Glen continued rifling through the press kit, as though it could somehow provide the explanation. It didn't, but on the back cover of the manilla folder, Glen found one--handwritten, he assumed, by Lee.

"So the next Glen and Ava never meet and never make the same mistake," it read.

"Normally, I'd say you'd have to ask him why," Baldo replied, "But he told me you shouldn't try to contact him again. And I think that considering Lee's situation, you should respect that."

"What situation?" Glen asked.

Baldo looked at Glen for a long moment, then said "He's dying, Glen. His body's been breaking down for years. It's probably down to months now."

Before Glen could reply, the driver slowed to a stop.

Glen looked away from Baldo and realized they'd taken him back to his building. The driver got out and opened Glen's door.

"Good luck Glen," Baldo said, "I've only known Lee to make smart investments. You should take some comfort in the fact that he's investing in you."

***

The apartment was still littered with champagne bottles. Once the novelty of the sunrise had passed and it was simply daytime, Maryanne had considered cleaning up. But there were still no garbage bags, no sponges, and no paper towels. 

And her phone had begun to blow up too, an ongoing thread of texts and voicemails about Glen, that she should Google him, that he was trending. She was reading one of the articles when Glen opened the door to the apartment.

Maryanne rushed to the door and was about to embrace him when she noticed the cut above his eye.

"What happened to you?" she asked.

Glen grinned slightly and said, "A lot." He glanced around the apartment and said, "You've been busy too."

"I have," Maryanne said, "More like fucking crazy. But good crazy--I think? And I CANNOT wait to tell you about it. But I obviously need to apologize first."

"For what?" Glen asked. 

"For doubting you," Maryanne replied, "You weren't lying, and I should have trusted you. That was clearly work."

"What do you mean?" Glen asked. 

"I know now. Everybody knows now. You're the new CEO of fucking date.ly," she said, holding up her phone to show him an article about Glen Esposito, the unlikeliest newcomer to the startup world.

"How did that even happen?" Maryanne asked excitedly, "You were just on your way to see him?"  
  
"I was," Glen said, "And I'm sorry I didn't tell you about him sooner. And Ava -- "

"Don't explain," Maryanne interrupted him, "I honestly don't care, I'm just--" she pulled him close and smiled even though tears were coming to her eyes. 

"It's just good to have you here," she continued. "Watching you walk away on the side of the road...I didn't know if that was...I just didn't know what was going to happen."

She wiped the tears away and chuckled as she said, "Can we just lie down on our lump of blankets, compare some notes and figure out who had a more fucked-up night?"

"I can't," Glen said.

"Why not?" Maryanne asked. 

"Because I can't stay here anymore," Glen said. 

"What are you talking about?" Maryanne asked.

"Do you remember what we were planning to do?" Glen asked, "when I picked you up and we crossed the threshold?"

"Uh yeah," Maryanne replied, "of course I do."

"How come we never just went downtown and saw the justice of the peace?" Glen asked.

"Because there was a lot going on," Maryanne replied.

"There was, and it would have still been easy," Glen said, "Fifteen minutes to get there, maybe ten minutes to do the paperwork. We could have been back here in an hour. But we never did."

"What are you saying?" Maryanne asked.

"I'm saying when we came back and found the apartment empty," Glen said, "It was like we were being introduced to each other all over again. Except we weren't the same people anymore."

"What the fuck are you saying?!" Maryanne shouted, "I did something stupid to promote myself. That suddenly changes everything!?"

"You don't think that what I did to Ava and Lee changes everything?" Glen replied.

"That was A LONG TIME AGO!" Maryanne shouted, "You're a different person!"

After a moment Glen said, "I thought so too. And I think that's why I thought it was okay to never tell you. Which proves that I'm really not a different person at all."

"And that's it?" Maryanne said, "Because we got sidetracked by this stupid apartment, that's it? Just fuck it?" 

"We never went to city hall," Glen said, "And the apartment had nothing to do with it."

Maryanne opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a loud push message chime from her phone. Glen's phone chimed as well.

Out of habit, they both glanced at their screens and simultaneously saw the message: "Great news! Your theft insurance claim has been approved for payment. Tap here for more information."