[b][u][center] Tuesday: 627 pm [/center][/u]
[center] Louisa Essair [/center][/b]

I try not to pace around the small entry way of my apartment. It had only taken me forty-seven minutes to take a shower, wash my hair, blow-dry my hair, apply make-up, touch up my manicure, and slip into a strappy sky blue dress. Now I had three minutes left to wait around, my heart fluttering with anxiety. The shimmering fabric, while appropriate length (meaning the dress came just above my knees) clung to my curves as I made my seventeenth round across the area rug.

I was acting juvenile. I knew I was acting juvenile. I had to get ahold of myself. I was just going to dinner. We were probably going to continue the conversation we had been having in his office about Section 8. Perhaps it was customary for someone to take their employee out when they got a raise? I frowned at the thought. While the money was good, and I’d certainly be spending a large portion of it to my parents, I wasn’t particularly pleased by the idea. More money meant more worth and like it or not I was climbing higher and higher on the list of eligible bachelorettes. It was one thing to have a crush on your boss when you were unattached and quite another when you were married. Affairs weren’t uncommon, even my best friend Claudette who was married, seemed to run through men faster than an office ran through tissue. But it wasn’t an idea I was comfortable with even in the best of circumstances.

Maybe this was a terrible idea. Maybe I should call and cancel? Pretend I…

But the thought vanished as I heard the front door bell ring. I didn’t have to check the safety camera to know who was standing on the other side. Even though my brain knew I should be careful and not get too involved with Lockheart, my heart had other ideas entirely. My libido as well, but that was something I didn’t like to think too much about. Swallowing back my nervousness, I slowly opened the door.

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[b][u][center] Tuesday: 635 pm [/center][/u]
[center] Enrick Valdea [/center][/b]

The problem, when working for the Rebels, wasn’t the fact that at any moment the government would find me out and drag me into some dark corner, - it was the fact that one always had to be on one’s toes. I felt the added weight in my pocket as I walked exited the city bus on my way to my second job of the day.

 I knew better than to look around to see who had deposited the note in my jacket pocket. A few blocks away from the stop, I finally reached in and found a mysterious pack of gum. It was almost empty 5-pack of spearmint. You had to really hand it to whoever’s job it was to get messages around. Even da Vinci would have been amazed at their creativity- the underside of bottle caps, the cards inside library books were due dates were stamped, a misplaced newspaper add. If you knew what you were looking for, hidden messages were everywhere. This one was on the inside of the wrapper. 

I popped the piece of green gum in my mouth and quickly scanned over the message. There was a small triangle sketched on the top,( the archaic symbol for change) with the code “430SEC87P”. April 30th, Sector 8, 7pm. So they’d moved the time for the bombing up by several hours. I wasn’t sure why but worried that the events surrounding the acquisition of the fingerprints might have had something to do with it. I looked down at my watch as I pushed past the back door of Club Esscro. Less than twenty minutes to go until the main event.
The place was about as empty as one would expect a club to be before seven on a week night. A few regulars were haunting the bar while a couple employees walked around, cleaning up the place from the previous night. Kassie was nowhere to be seen, but I didn’t expect her to show for a few more hours, at least. Mind you, it was possible I wouldn’t get to see her tonight at all if the government decided to shut the entire city down after the attack.