After talking with Coretta, I’m a little less sure about Thailand. I decide that if Linda doesn’t go for it, I won’t go.

But Linda, a woman in her early fifties with tight curly hair and librarian glasses, is enthusiastic. “Who is this guy?”

“The cousin of a guy my roommate’s dating,” I reply as I run documents through the scanner.

Linda sits down at my computer. “What’s his name? Where does he live?”

“Darren Lee. San Francisco”

She types both into Facebook. “Is this him?”

I look at the photo of a Caucasian man. “Darren’s Asian. He runs a nightclub, The Lotus.”

“This isn’t him,” Linda murmurs, looking at the profile pic of an older Asian man. “Your guy has a Facebook account, right?”

I shrug.

“Oh, wait, your generation is more on Instagram or Snapchat, right?” Linda asks as she types in “The Lotus” and “San Francisco.”

No direct results. There’s a restaurant by the same name, but it’s not in the city.

“How can a business not show up? Is it brand-new?” Linda asks.

“It’s been around a few years.”

Linda searches Yelp but finds nothing. She does a broad internet search for Darren Lee and The Lotus, then Darren Lee and San Francisco, and The Lotus and San Francisco.

“It’s like your guy and this club don’t exist,” Linda murmurs.

I look over her shoulder. “Try UCLA. That’s his alma mater.”

The search turns up his name in a list of graduates for the Economics Department four years ago but not much else.

I have an idea and pull up Instagram on my phone. I type in Kimberly Park. Sure enough, she has an Instagram account chock-full of selfies showing off her amazing body. Scrolling through her account, I find a photo of her and Darren.

“That’s him with his ex-girlfriend,” I say, showing my phone to Linda.

Linda pulls her glasses down her nose to see the photo better. “Oh, wow, he’s hot. You’ve got to go to Thailand.”

“But we have grant applications to work on,” I reply.

“A trip to Thailand. A super-sexy guy. What more do you want? In fact, with a guy like that, it wouldn’t matter where we went. If he wanted to hang out at a quarry, I’d say, ‘hell, yes.’”

“I could work on the applications remotely as long as there’s internet access,” I say.

“I know I said I wanted to find the funds for our food recovery vans as soon as possible, but an extra week is not going to make a huge difference. You should go.”

Linda was my out if I decided against going. After Linda and her assistant leave for the day, I stay behind, trying to get as much done as possible. A little after six, I get a call from Darren.

“Where are you?” he asks.

“Working at my internship in Oakland,” I answer.

“You had dinner?”

“Not yet.”

“Are you in downtown Oakland?”

“Near Lake Merritt.”

“I’ll pick you up in twenty then.”