The photography studio where I work is located in a gentrified neighborhood full of boutiques and mini restaurants from renovated Victorian buildings. It’s also one of the most beautiful streets in San Francisco with trees lining the sidewalks as I zip down the road on my bike. I’m pedaling faster than usual, and my buns are on fire, but I can’t wait to find Julian and tell him about the strange encounter. 

So as soon as I reach the studio, I chain my bike to the railing and bound up the stone stairs, taking two steps at a time. When I push through the heavy oak door and stumble into the small lobby, alternative rock fills my ears. This means the boss’s daughter is here and sure enough, as I turn the corner, she’s sitting at the receptionist desk with her face buried in her cellphone. 

Nepotism hard at work. 

The day she becomes my boss is the day I quit this place.

“Welcome to Bloodmoon Studio how may I—” she cuts herself short when she glances up. “Oh, it’s just you, Val.”

“Gee, thanks, Winnie.”

“Candy Crush.” She holds up her phone, wiggling it. “I’m on level two-eighty-seven.”

“Fascinating. Is your Dad around?” 

“In the back.” She points to the royal purple velvet curtains with the neon sign above it that says, Greatness in Session. 

“Is he in a good mood?”

“Is he ever?”

“Guess not.” 

I make my way down the black hallway where track lights cast beams across music records, old concert posters, and photos of my boss’ old rock band—back when grunge was cool. My favorite is the one of him crowd surfing with a microphone to his mouth, and you can tell he’s singing the crap out of the song while fans grope him. 

Once I reach the end of the hallway, I step through the back door and into the daylight again where Julian is sitting on a bench drinking coffee from Philz. He’s wearing a white cable-knit sweater over grey trousers with dressy shoes, and I should have known he would put my casual attire to shame.

“Hey. Got a few minutes?” I ask, and he glances around the small garden before pointing to his chest while dramatically mouthing, who me? So I roll my eyes. “Yes, you big goof! What are you doing out here?”

“Working on my tan, duh.” He gestures to the natural deep hue of his skin. 

“Har, har.”

“So, what’s up? You’re not gonna ask me to pop one of your back pimples again, right?”

“Ew, gross, no!” I slap his arm and take a seat on the wooden bench next to him. “I’ve just got something weird to tell you.”

“What’s up?”

“Well, I was about to leave the cafe down the street when some woman stopped me to ask if I’m Valentina Moreno? Apparently, she went missing years ago?”

“Weird, I just watched an update about that on Dateline last night.”

“Yeah, that’s what she said! So you’ve heard about it before?”

“Yup! My mom was obsessed with it for the longest time, but hold up...” Julian pauses and shifts his body to me. “Why would that lady confuse you for her?”

“She said they ran some age progression photo and it looked like me.”

“Get out! There's no way.” Julian tosses his head back, barking out a laugh, but when he catches sight of the expression on my face, he stops. “Val, listen, she’s just a typical Karen. I bet she even complained about the way Ricky made her coffee. Don’t listen to her.”

“It’s not that.” I shrug. “It’s just... She was really pushy about it and had this death grip on my arm.”

“She put her hands on you? Oh, hell no.”

“Yes, and now that I’m sitting here thinking about it, I’m creeped out. What if other people start stopping me in the street?”

“Forget about it. I mean, come on, I’ve known you since high school and I didn’t even think twice about it when I saw that age progression. I’m sure the photo looks like fifty other people walking around downtown right now.” Julian reaches into his pocket and fishes out his phone. “Look, I’ll Google it so we can put this twilight zone encounter to bed, ok?”

“Wait!” I cover his screen with my hands. “Don’t.”

“Aren’t you curious?”

“Yes, and no.”

“Val, Val, Val…” he sighs. “If we don’t do this, you’ll be thinking about it all day, and we have the Kominsky wedding to shoot today. You know rich people hate when the hired help is slacking off even the slightest.”

“Fine.” I narrow my eyes at him. “And then we’ll never talk about it again. Ok?”

“As you wish, you Italian Princess.”

“Whatever, you Dominican Don Juan!” I slap his arm. “Now do it before I change my mind.”

Grinning as if he’s won the ultimate argument, Julian taps on his phone and does some scrolling, but then, he sits there with brows furrowed. Meanwhile, I’m sweating so much I can feel my armpits soaking through my shirt. 

“Well? Let’s see it!” 

“Hmm, maybe when I saw it last night I was just really tired because…” 

Biting down on his lip, he turns the screen towards me. That’s when I feel blood avalanche from my head to my toes and it takes my jaw with it. There, on his screen, is the uncanny image of a young woman with dark curly hair and big brown eyes glaring back at me. Even the shape of her lips are like mine—not thin, but not big either. She has defined cheekbones too and her nose... My hand automatically goes to mine.

“You’re not going to puke are you?” Julian asks.

"No." I shake my head side to side, despite the revolutions my stomach is doing like a merry-go-round. Except there is nothing merry about the image staring back at me. 

“Ok, that’s enough.” Julian closes the screen, but I try yanking the phone out of his hands.

“Wait!”

“Listen!” He tears it from my fingers and tucks it into his pocket. “That image is bullshit. It’s created by a computer using guesstimates, and as I said, there are a ton of other girls, across the country, who look like this too. So, forget we ever saw this. Ok?”

“But… it looks just like me.”

 “Val,” Julian sighs and rests his hands on my shoulders. “The fact that it looks like you is just pure chance. Besides, who’s your daddy?”

I roll my eyes.

“No, no, don’t do that!” Julian tisks. “Who’s your daddy?”

“Angelo Rossi.”

“That’s right and whenever you’re together, what does everybody say?”

“That I look just like him.” 

“Exactly. So that photo means nothing. Absolutamente nada. Is it freaky? Yes, but it means squat. You are Angelo Rossi’s daughter and your mom was Elaine Rossi.”

“I know...” 

“Now say it again.”

“I’m Angelo and Elaine Rossi’s, daughter.” 

“Damn skippy!” He slaps my knee, and I finally crack a smile with a smack to his chest. 

“Thanks for talking me off the ledge. I don’t know why I let that woman get to me. Maybe it’s because I had that dream last night.”

“Ah, so that’s the real reason behind all of this.”

“No.” I avert my eyes.

“Yes, it is, and I stand by what I’ve always said, you need to talk to a professional about it. You have this reoccurring dream because you have a fear of abandonment brought on by the trauma of your mom’s suicide. Not to mention that your dad has always been overprotective and now that he lives four hours away, you feel abandoned.”

“No, I don’t! And last I checked, you’re not a therapist.”

“Hey... Easy...” He holds up his hands. “I’m just looking out for you. It’s not healthy to keep your emotions so bottled up all of the time. You gotta talk to someone. Otherwise, that dream will never go away.”

“I know.” I fold my arms.

“Excuse me!” a raspy voice barks and we jerk our heads to the patio door where our boss is tapping his expensive, designer watch. “Don’t you two have a wedding to photograph in one hour? Clear across town?”

“My cat died,” Julian blurts and wipes a fake tear from his cheek. “I needed Valerie’s shoulder to cry on.”

“Didn’t your cat die two weeks ago when you came in hungover?” Our boss smirks. 

“I have multiple cats.” 

“And I have multiple headaches! Now hurry up and get to that wedding before I have a heart attack too.”

“Sir, yes, Sir!” Julian salutes as he skyrockets from the bench.

“Smartass...” our boss mutters.

“Val, ask him about that thing.” 

“What thing?” My eyes widen.

“The thing.”

“Not now, Julian.” I begin walking past Jerry but he catches me by the elbow and raises his brow.

“What thing?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Bullshit!” Julian blurts and when I glare at him, he slaps his hands to his mouth.”

“Spit it out, Rossi,” Jerry sighs in annoyance. “What’s the thing?” 

“Um, well, I was wondering if you could write a letter of recommendation for me? You see, there’s this photography program in the spring, and if I get picked then—”

“A letter of recommendation?”

“Yes. It’s a really hard program to get into, but with your reputation and my experience working here—”

“Fine, fine!” He waves his hand about. “But talk to me about it later. The clock is ticking and we have bills to pay around here.” 

“Thanks, Jerry.”

“Uh-huh...” He mumbles while shoving a tattooed hand into the front pocket of his flannel shirt for a cigarette. 

Julian and I step inside the studio, but I remain in the doorway for a few beats longer, observing the boss-man. As much as I want to move on from here and pursue bigger goals, Jerry is actually a good boss. Sure, he’s grouchy, but he cares and takes the time to mentor. 

Now, if he would just quit smoking.

The clouds part just enough to allow the sun to shine a few beams onto Jerry's beautifully long salt and pepper hair. He sweeps it aside like a shield from the wind and lights the cigarette. Today he’s wearing black leather pants which are all that remains of his grunge, rocker years, and for some reason that makes me sad for him. Where would he be if his band had made it big back in the 90s? Lately, he just doesn’t seem happy about anything and he’s smoking more and more.

“Jerry…”

“What!” He swings my way. 

“Is everything ok?”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” He cocks a brow and blows out smoke, so, like a moron, I just wave goodbye. 

“Have a good day.”

“You ready?” Julian asks, reappearing at my side with camera equipment slung over his shoulder.

“Yes.” 

As we head to the front of the building, I run my hands along the black hallway walls and pause for a beat in front of a concert poster of Jerry’s old band, Bloodmoon Cannibals.

“Do you think he’d be happier if he was still doing music?” 

“Nah.” Julian shakes his head. “Becoming a father turned his life around. It made him sober up. If it wasn’t for Winnie, he’d probably be dead.”

“What are you saying about me?” Winnie asks right as we emerge from the velvet curtains.

“Just that you’re beautiful. And looking ever so tasty in that skirt.”

At Julian's words, Winnie’s mouth opens but nothing comes out. Instead, there’s the sad chime of her losing the round of Candy Crush she’s playing, and a bloom of pink spreads across her cheeks. She has an infatuation with Julian and he shamelessly teases her at every turn. It’s like he gets off on making her speechless.

“Catch you and those gorgeous legs, later.” He winks as we exit the Victorian, but once we’re outside I whack his shoulder. 

“You little flirt!”

“I’m not blind.” He shrugs. “Winnie is hot.”

“Yeah, but she’s Jerry’s daughter.”

“So?”

“So, the way you talk to her could be considered sexual harassment!”

“Nah. She eats it up. I just made her day.” 

“If you say so.”

“I do say so.”

“Ok, well, I’ll bring you flowers at the hospital the day Jerry breaks your legs.”

“Whatever, Jerry loves me. He could only be so lucky to have a devilishly handsome Latin lover, like me, bang his daughter.”

“Julian!” I gasp as we stop in front of his candy-apple-red ‘54 Chevy Bel Air. “Are you and Winnie having sex?”

“Hell no! Jerry would kill me.” 

Pulling open the door, I roll my eyes and climb inside the car. Not everyone gets to make a living off their passion the way I do, but what makes it even better is I get to work with my best friend every day. Thanks to Julian, he’s managed to turn a bizarre morning into a delightful one. 

As he shifts the car into gear, I rest my hand on his knee and squeeze. 

“I love you too, Val,” he says and off we go to the Kominsky wedding.