Page 8 of Come Find Me Tonight

Robby

A goddamn week since Appa Montgomery had slipped and liked Rook’s video with that blue check next to her name. A week of pacing, rubbing my temples, and thinking at all hours of the night.

What do I do now?

If she wants the fantasy of Rook to come to life, I can make that happen. But how without scaring her off and going to jail? Best-case scenario: She’s hooked. Worst-case scenario: I’m cooked…and calling my big-shot lawyer uncle in San Diego to get my ass out of jail.

My new Rook video is a good way to gauge where her head is. It’s a standard video for me: Shirtless in my signature dim lighting, and I reach out toward the camera. The caption reads: ‘If you want it, don’t say a word and leave the lights off.’ It should serve as a decent test. I realize that liking a post—a fantasy—online is one thing; to have an intruder is another. And she’s a Southern girl. I wouldn’t put it past her dad to love his Second Amendment and to have given her gun lessons or, at the very least, mace. But if I caught her off guard, it’s not like she would carry a handgun around on a quiet weeknight.

I mean, she could, though.

That’s a terrifying thought that makes me bounce my knee with jitters. If I prove that I’m not a random guy with bad intentions, and she sees the real Rook, she’ll be into it. Most likely. I have nothing to lose at this point. I’ve been dreaming and fantasizing about this girl for years, and she’s been doing the same about me.

This needs to happen, Robby.

If I’m going to be an idiot and bring Rook to her, I need her address. My chest caves in. And a backup plan to be my literal ‘get out of jail free’ card.

I’ve never allowed myself to dig into her private information because I thought if I knew her address, I would have found a way to bump into her, but I couldn’t force fate. If she came back into my life organically, I would know it was meant to be. But of all the many male content creators she could follow, she follows mine and interacts regularly.

You going to tell me that’s not fate?

Firing up my personal laptop, I knew finding her address shouldn’t be hard. She did renovations a while back that she thoroughly documented online, naturally, so she must own her current house, which means her name is tied to it. Her last name isn’t publicly listed on any of her public profiles since she went viral and became popular. But I searched the student directory for her those years ago and know her last name. The air conditioner kicks on then and makes me jump as it breaks the silence. I know it’s wrong, but I have to do this.

Apple Montgomery.

No results.

Nothing on the county recorder with her name. I dance my fingertips on the keyboard light enough not to type but still make a faint clicking noise on the keys while I think. I bet someone else’s name is on everything, or it’s listed under an LLC to protect her privacy. Which is clever of her, and I can respect that. A grin flashes on my lips. I’ll outsmart her.

I remember seeing Savannah tagged in her old posts from when she was in high school, so let’s start there. I search her surname and Georgia, then narrow the search to Savannah.

Bingo.

Her dad is a bigwig at his company. It doesn’t matter what the company does. What does is that I have a different name and a business to look for. And her daddy’s name is stamped all over her house documents with the Orange County recorder. I look out the window above my desk that overlooks LA. The sun has set with the lights of the metroplex glinting like a circuit board.

I knew I’d find you, Appa.

I look up her address on real estate websites, looking for MLS photos to prove the address is current. All the recent listings for her house were removed, so I dig deep. After multiple searches and results pages, I eventually find photos and a floor plan on an old listing. A few things match up well enough that I recognize the interior of the home from recent photos she’s posted.

I switch to street view to look up the current state of the house, zooming in until the pixels blur, seeking a potential weak point or cameras. My eyes are straining from hours spent staring at a computer screen today, but I’m in too deep now.

Thank you, street view guy, for recently driving down her street in Calabasas.

That’s when I see it. A smart electrical panel just like the one I have on my house. Likely the same model and age. My fingertips scratch the scruff on my jaw.

That’s fucking fate.

When I bought my house, it needed work, and I liked the Wi-Fi tie-in as a selling point for upgrading the panel. Smug doesn’t cover how I feel with this discovery. One of my first homeowner decisions is a way into Appa’s house. These days, everyone has smart doorbells, door locks, cameras—all connected to Wi-Fi, powered through a router and electricity. I’m not a hacker, but I can figure this out with my background. And it’s fucking sweet I can test it on my house before ever trying anything with Appa’s.

But any hacker could do this if they put it together like I have.

Goosebumps rise on my arms, and my shoulders sink. I’m not worried about potentially intruding in her home, but that someone else with truly sinister intentions could. Appa’s a small person with no idea just how vulnerable her home security is. If I find a way to do this, I’ll be doing her a favor. She’ll realize that she needs to button up her security in response, and she’ll be safer in the long run. Not that a judge would care if it goes sideways.

One of my work buddies once mentioned a ‘back-door search engine’ for smart devices. I used it to secure my smart home devices once I knew where to look. Consumers like Appa would have no idea. Unless she had a tech-savvy boyfriend, which I doubt, and she didn’t study engineering like I did.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. I need to try hacking my smart panel to see if that’s a viable option. I glance at the time in the screen’s corner. Nearly eleven. At this rate, I’ll spend all night doing this, and the time on my laptop blurs.

It’s not difficult to get into the smart panel system. She probably didn’t change the credentials. The only devices people reset factory passwords on are Wi-Fi routers. I just have to find the IP of hers and try logging in with factory credentials. I lean back and tap my fingers together like I did in a recent Rook video.