As I turned into my private drive, my headlights reflected off a black boxy car parked in my parking space. I pulled up beside it. The car looked kinda like a fancy Hyundai. I didn’t know anyone who drove a black Hyundai except my arch enemy satan, a.k.a. Salina Atan, and I was pretty sure she wasn’t here to thank me for signing her up for Cell Mate to Soul Mate, “where love shackles our hearts, not our hands,” an online dating site for prison inmates. I genuinely hoped she found true love and just to up her odds, I’d signed her up for both men seeking women and women seeking women. People really shouldn’t leave their Facebook password taped to the inside of a locked desk drawer—anyone with a vendetta and a sharp letter opener could have found it. The Hyundai’s driver side door opened and a tall figure stepped out. “Who’s that man?” Max pointed to the figure. “I don’t know, but stay in the car until I find out.” I opened my door and slid out onto the pavement.
