The few soccer moms enjoying skinny lattes in expensive yoga pants came out to discuss the episode with the standard stay-at-home moms from the laundromat, folding children’s fitted sheets while herding energetic toddlers. “Well, did you see that?” And, freed from their salon chairs, hair folded into individual tinfoil locks like middle-aged medusas, a few grandmothers interrupted their colorings to comment on the commotion. “Well, I definitely heard it.” Within just a few brief moments, it was clear to everyone that the troublesome Cooper girl had just fled town, followed by all of those annoying undercover officers, and everyone assembled there agreed that it was a fine arrangement. “Well, just one look at her, and anybody could tell she was trouble.” And there was some agreement, especially amongst those just barely old enough to remember, that she generally always had been, and that her dramatic exit, pursued by police, was a satisfactorily on-brand ending. “Well, I can’t believe it took so long.” A few knowing smiles spread amongst the salon set, as they considered their own indiscretions. “Well, hell,” someone hollered, “I hope she makes it to the damn Grand Canyon!” and there was some agreement. Before Mr. Ouija had made it as far as Barstow, Ashley Cooper’s memory had returned as a bastion of unrestrained feminism. And this guy just sat there scrolling through his phone like nobody saw her yell at him at all. Just as cool and calm as if nothing had happened. He looked a little queasy, and someone thought to recommend water but forgot to in all the excitement.

  Austin’s missed call log was a string of Jynx followed by a couple of missed calls from random “scam likely” numbers. Austin tried calling everything back, but no one answered, and Jynx’s line went straight to voicemail every time. Either he was in a lot of trouble, or she was in a lot of trouble, and he didn’t care to think about either option. That Ash took the Smiths and Johnsons with her when she left was a good sign, but Jynx vanishing completely was not. The worst part was that he was out on a date — but his first real date, and with Becca! — when all of this went down, it didn't make him feel any better, all things considered.

  Becca sat watching him patiently as he hung up and redialed, absentmindedly attempting to drink from his empty coffee mug until the barista, who had watched the entire scene, took it upon herself to bring out a refill.

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  Having just unwittingly and involuntarily participated in the juiciest bit of intrigue in recent memory, Austin had improved considerably in the barista’s opinion. She came out from behind the counter with a fresh French press in hand, just in time to catch the tail end of the commotion. “Well, that seemed a little excessive,” she laughed nervously. He reached for his wallet, realizing that he had to leave. He had to find her. “She’s not answering,” he mumbled. Feeling dizzy and somewhat dislodged, he stood from the cafe table.

  “Where do you think she would be?” Becca asked, trying to be helpful, but Austin wasn’t listening. She wasn’t a set of keys or a pair of sunglasses. She wasn’t a lost object. She was Jynx, and when she needed him most, he was out having frilly coffee drinks with Becca. “I’ve got to find her,” he said and made for his pickup truck, realizing that he was abandoning Becca and the Barista both at once. He raised his silent phone, as if for some explanation or apology, and lacking the words to elaborate any further, backed away toward his truck, picking up speed. She wasn’t lost, he was. It was her saucer, and she was right. It was important. He should have been listening.

  “Austin!” Becca called from the sidewalk behind him.

  He knew he should say something to her, but Jynx was in trouble. “I’m sorry, Becca, but I should go.” He backed towards his truck.

  She nodded, and honestly, now that she knew Jynx was like a sister, she didn’t mind, “But Austin…”

  Uncertain if he should go back and kiss her if she wanted him to be dramatic like the guys in the movies, he felt pinned in place, unable to move.

  Becca offered him his truck keys. “...You forgot—”

  He rushed back. “—I didn’t know if…”

  She handed him his keys, “unless…”

  He glanced down at her, uncertain if he should kiss her.

  She bit her lip and glanced at his “...you left them there on purpose?”

  He shook his head slowly.

  “Alright,” she said.

  “I wish I had,” he said and glanced down at his phone again. “She’s not answering,” he repeated.

  She placed her hands on his shoulders, leaned forward, and kissed him on the cheek. “I know. Just text me when you find her. We can all hang out.”

  Enveloped in her cocoa butter scent, Austin nodded absently, then glanced up and down the highway, losing blood flow to his brain again.