Trent sat in a dimly lit waiting room going over the Internet Love case in his mind. In reality, he knew nothing definitive about JC9758. "John" could have lied about his name, his age, even his gender to Sherry. Trent felt sympathy for the poor woman who only wanted to get in touch with him because she thought they were soul mates, but he had to wonder: Why would a man as seemingly wonderful as John keep so much a secret? How do you love someone who won't let you into their secrets? That was one question he hoped Miss Lucky could answer.

"Mr. Malloy?" a beautiful woman stood in the doorway, her multi-colored robe hanging loosely on her willowy frame and contrasting with her deep brown skin. Her angled olive eyes seemed to be looking into the distance, and her face was happy and relaxed. Trent stood and followed her into the back room, where she sat down on a lump of many-colored pillows and bade Trent do the same. The tranquil smell of incense was thick in the tiny room, making his lids heavy. "What kin I and I do for you?" she asked in a soft Jamaican accent, swaying in time to the sitar music playing in the background.

"I'm…uh…" for a moment Trent couldn't remember where he was, and then he snapped to attention. "I'm looking for someone." He pulled out a scrap of paper on which he had written the screen name.

"Are you serious?" Lucky asked him. Her face had suddenly lost its dreaminess, and her green eyes sparkled maliciously. "You bring to the great Miss Lucky a screen name?" Her voice had lost its smooth accent, and she rummaged through the hidden pockets of her robe for a cigarette. She lit one and blew a puff of smoke straight up into the air. "Whateva. I'll do this one for free." Her over-long nails ripped the piece of paper from his hands. "The letters are this guy's initials, and the rest is his birthday." She shoved the scrap back at Trent and turned toward the window.

"It's not his birthday," he insisted, glad she was wrong. It made him feel less foolish for having come here in the first place.

"Well it's an age of some sort. I would bet '58 is a year of importance for the fella if it's not his age or the year he was born, and the other two numbers have significance for him. Sports numbers? Kids' ages? Now if you'll excuse me," she took another long drag on her smoke. "I have things to do." She raised her perfectly sculpted eyebrows, indicating he should go. Trent stood up, and the great Miss Lucky's hand reached out. Trent gave her a few bills and left, taking the information back to Thunder Investigations.

"I can't believe you're taking the word of this Miss Lucky girl," Kim complained as Trent dutifully poured over the list of names he had gotten.

"It's worth a try," he insisted. "If anything narrows down this list, I'll be grateful." He held up his list of names with a triumphant look upon his face. "What a coincidence! I found a John Covenly born in 1958."

Kim pushed Trent out of her way and started an internet search for him. "Uh-oh," she said. Trent looked at the screen, and Kim highlighted a sentence. "He's got a kid."

"Two of them," Trent said, pointing lower on the screen. "And they'd be…" he did the math in his head.

"Nine and seven," Kim answered.

Trent printed out Covenly's picture. Before he talked to John or Sherry, he would need to get more solid evidence that this was in reality who he was looking for. He would run the picture to the cafés Monday.

"Is it just me, or did Guy's Night used to be more fun?" Carlos asked around a bite of pizza. He and Trent sat on Carlos' couch watching basketball. Tommy, the newest addition to their semi-regular gatherings lay on the floor, intent on the game. "It's all your fault you know," Carlos said, picking up his beer.

How do you figure?" Trent asked, taking a slag of his own bottle.

"You had to go and get all domestic on us," Carlos stated simply.

"And how!" Tommy chimed in. "Aww come on!" he yelled at the TV. "I could've made that shot, and I'm criminally short!"

Trent slouched down further on the cushions and scowled. "Don't forget that I can take both of you…at once!" Tommy dismissed this possibility rudely. "And besides," Trent said impishly, "I'm not the one whose couch smells like woman!" Tommy was up off the floor in a flash, and all three of them smelled Carlos' couch, Trent and Tommy teasing him without end about it.

"She hasn't been here in over two weeks," Carlos waved them away. "Besides, it's not like that. You two can talk, seeing how you've found your girls."

Tommy laughed. "Is this the longest you've been single?" he asked, "Ten days?"

"Not counting the 13 years from his birth to his first girlfriend," Trent answered, cackling again.

"Please, I was a stud in the first grade," Carlos retorted.

"Maybe you just go after the wrong kind of girls," Tommy suggested, getting another slice of pizza.

"Well we can't all marry our best friends," Carlos muttered.

"I think Danae would be good for you, then," Trent said as Carlos polished off his beer. "You two are already almost inseparable."

"Yeah, because I got her shot," his friend said dejectedly. "And kidnapped. That's not exactly a great start."

"It worked for Alex and Walker," Tommy said.

"You've had worse," Trent added, bottle to his lips. He broke into a grin when Carlos laughed at the truth in his friend's words, then chugged the last of his beer.

"OHH!" the three guys yelled as the ball bounced off the rim again.