Jack-In-The-Box

Another disappearance in the south-east end of London today has local authorities concerned. Detectives warn young women of a new scam circulating the internet- The telly screen goes black as I click the off button. “Victoria! That was major news, turn it back on.” Dark brown eyes catch me in a death glare. I sigh, “Lydia, I’m not interested in that kind of programming playing in the main shop. You may continue watching in the break room. I’ll handle things out here.”

She brightens, “Alright, I’ll report back if they reveal anything important.” I nod in her direction as she pushes her way through the double doors that lead into the kitchen. I switch the tv over to a music streaming channel and once again smooth jazz imbues the tranquil café. I scan the room, studying the patrons as I mindlessly plate sticky buns, fresh from the oven. My neighbor, Ms. Patrick, knits in her usual place, glasses slipping down her thin nose. In the opposite corner sits a young couple on a date; they laugh as the tips of their shoes touch one another under the table. I rest my hand in my palm and let out another sigh, gaze lingering longer than is polite at the youth.

I have been single pretty much since birth. I can’t say that being single has been all bad though. Without something as trivial as “love” to distract me, I had plenty of time to study in school. I made the top grades in my class and graduated with honors; quickly earning a degree in business. Now I own a very successful coffee shop in one of London’s up-and-coming neighborhoods. All in all, not a bad life.

“Victoria!” I nearly drop the plate of buns when Lydia shouts my name. I swiftly face her. “Yes? What is it?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s your mother. She’s on the line. Should I tell her you’re busy?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes. “No. I’ve been avoiding her all week. I should probably take it. Thank you, Lydia.” I pluck the phone from her hand and head to my office, closing the door behind me. “Mother...yes…”

I reemerge from the back room, once again having survived the semi-annual, When am I going to get grandchildren?, phone call from my mother. “So how did it go?” Lydia lifts her eyebrow.

“About as fine as can be expected. I should start dating, I’m not getting any younger, and all that rubbish.” I uncurl my fingers leaving small crescent moons on the skin of my palms. I rub my temple, “I think I’m developing a migraine. Would you be alright closing up tonight?”

“Sure thing boss. Not a problem. Go home and rest.”

I return her smile and sling my bag over my shoulder. “Oh did that news report say any more about the missing woman?”

“Oh that’s right! I knew there was something I wanted to tell you before your mother called. The woman was around your age. You’re in your mid-thirties right?”

I unintentionally stiffen at the mention of my age. “Yes, I’ll be thirty-eight next month.”

“Well, just be careful Victoria.”

“I’ll take your concern into consideration. Thanks again Lydia.” I wave over my shoulder.

“Fritz, I’m home.” I announce as I enter my flat. A rotund ball of orange fluff greets me at the door; large emeralds stare up at me and he meows in greeting. I hang up my purse then scoop him up from the floor, walk to the sitting room, and settle down onto the couch. He purrs from my lap. “What’s happening on social media I wonder.” I open my phone and pop over to Instagram. “Oh look at that Fritz, Becca got engaged.” I continue to scroll through the myriad of pictures; friends, family, influencers, all presenting their perfect lives through expertly chosen filters.

I jump when romantic piano music blares from a new post. “Bloody hell. Volume! Volume button!” Fritz hisses at the assault on our ears. “What kind of ad was that anyway?” I open the screen again to take a closer look. “Click this link to find the man of your dreams. Handsome singles are waiting for you. What a load of absolute bollocks.” I scoff as I read the heading, but hesitate before scrolling further. I look down at Fritz. “What do you think? Couldn’t hurt to check right? I mean if it’s a load of shite then no harm done.” Fritz stretches, responding with a wide yawn. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

I click the link and it takes me to the website ‘perfectmatch.com’ “Oh of course they want me to create a username and password. I just wanted to look through the pictures...fine.” I huff then acquiesce and create an account. “Swipe the picture right for the man you want to connect with. Simple enough. Hm, too young, oof too old, not a huge fan of blondes, eh not bad, oh lord he’s holding a fish, no, nyet, nein, nope. Just as I thought, this dating website is crap. Oh wait a tick. This one isn’t bad. Nice build, tall, blue eyes, dark brown hair, handsome face.” I tap on his picture to view his profile. “Oh, he’s in my area. I wonder if he’s ever stopped by the coffee shop? Jack. No surname? Maybe it’s private for security?” My palms sweat as my finger hovers over the ‘Match’ button. I shake my head and take a deep breath to relieve the nervous tension building up in my chest. “Just click the button Victoria. What’s the worst that could happen?”

I blink as light streams through my bedroom window. I look about myself for a moment. (I don’t remember even coming to my room last night.) I shrug off the thought and get ready for work. “Bye Fritz, see you this evening.” When I open the door I slam my face straight into something sturdy. “Ow! What the-?” I stumble backwards and rub my tender nose. A box wrapped in brown parcel paper stands over six feet tall, nearly blotting out the early morning sun. Bringing my finger to my chin I circle it like a bloodhound. “I didn’t order anything. No labels, no postal code. Where did you come from?” I give it a small shake and hear something very solid thump inside and I vault sideways. My foot slips on the wet step and I desperately cling to the box for support. However, I fail miserably and we take a terrible tumble down the stairs. “Ah! Wanker!” I yell, holding my elbow after smashing it into the concrete. I furiously rub it and glare at the box.

I pull myself to my knees and crawl over to it slowly. The electronic sound of a seal releasing sets a door in motion. “Oh holy shit!” I scream and duck for cover as it springs open, tearing through the paper on the box. I turn and peek through my fingers then gasp. A man wearing a perfectly tailored navy blue suit steps out. My eyes widen taking in his towering form. He looks down at me and flashes a brilliant smile. His smooth honey voice says, “Hi, my name is Jack and I’m the man of your dreams.”

My mind races and I fumble around on the ground for my purse. (This isn’t real, this isn’t real. Wake up Victoria!) My fingers land on something slender and smooth. Conveniently my pepper spray had rolled from my bag after falling off the stairs. I grab it and successfully shoot him in the eyes. “Get away!” I scream and stand then sprint into my flat, slamming the door behind me; adrenaline coursing through my veins. I slide to a seated position just behind the door and inhale deeply to calm my frazzled nerves.

I catch Fritz from the corner of my eye. He lets out a concerned meow. “Shh he’ll hear you.” I slowly rise to my feet and peek through the window. “Where did he go? The box is gone too. I must be going mad.” I start at a loud bang that shakes the door. I run to seek safety behind the couch. (Is that him? If I stay quiet, maybe he’ll leave.) I stay crouched, perfectly still. (What was that?) I whip my head around when I hear another thumping sound only to realize it’s my own heart beating in my ears.

Suddenly the hair on the back of my neck prickles, the air around me feels charged, my body goes rigid. Fritz emits a low growl in his chest. A strange hand finds purchase on my shoulder sending a jolt of electricity rushing through my body and I fly from behind the sofa. Fritz yowls and dashes down the hallway. I hasten to the kitchen and grab the first thing I see to use as protection. “How did you get in my house? What do you want?” I frantically shout as I desperately wield a red spatula in the man’s general direction. Unblinking azure eyes gaze at me. Then he simply smiles, a too sweet grin crinkles the skin around his eyes. “Hi. I’m Jack and I’m the man of your dreams.”

“Yes, yes I heard that line already. How did you get here?” I slowly back further into the kitchen, putting a safe distance between us.

He cocks his head, “I was delivered.”

“But I didn’t enter my address on that site! How on earth-” I interrupt my own question. “My phone. That damned site used location tracking on my phone?” My body trembles with rage. “Oh I will be writing a strongly worded letter!”

He chuckles at my outburst. “I think we might have gotten off on the wrong foot. My name is Jack, it’s a pleasure to meet you Victoria.” He extends his hand in greeting.

“How do you know my...wait, the app, I put my real name on my profile.” I smack my forehead with the spatula. “So stupid. This is how people get their identities stolen.”

He lets out a bright laugh. “I promise you Victoria, I am not here to steal your identity. My only directive is to make you happy.”

“Your directive? That sounds like something a robot would say.” A chill runs down my spine at the thought of cyborgs taking over the planet. He takes a step toward me; a smirk pulls at the corners of his perfect lips. “Would you like me to kiss you now?”

“Steady on!” I jump back, pointing my egg-flipping weapon at him. “Excuse me sir, but I don’t go around kissing strangers.”

“But we’re not strangers. You picked me, remember? I’m the man of your dreams.” He says with the utmost sincerity in his voice.

“Stop saying that. If you say that again I’ll scream.”

“Victoria...” He says slowly. Abruptly I’m met with earnest sapphires. (Bloody hell when did he get so close?) I take another step back. “Look, it was a mistake. Last night...I just...I succumbed to a moment of weakness.”

He frowns, perfectly manicured eyebrows furrow. “A mistake?” His voice is barely audible. “So, you want to return me then?”

I nod, “Well yes… if that’s an option.”

In a flash he reaches out and snatches my wrist. The spatula clatters to the floor and my heart pounds against my rib cage as he pulls me flush to his chest. “Oh, Victoria.” He coos. “I’m afraid...I cannot allow that.” He lifts my fingers to his lips and gently kisses the tips, sending shocks through my nerve endings. His cerulean pools darken to an inky indigo and he leans down, his warm breath fans out over my ear and I shudder. He whispers, “You will not put Jack back in the box.”