ANNA

My phone woke me up. It was the chime. Before yesterday, I’d never heard it. Now it was etched on my brain. That damn chime ruined my life.

***

The stock was a sure thing, my friend had said. Everyone online was doing it, he said. Just download the app, he said. Buy as much as you can, my former friend said.

I downloaded the app. I searched for the stock. It was represented by a green line threatening to shoot out of the top of my phone. Green is good, I thought. Green is GO. I spent every penny I had on the stock. Nearly $2,000. The order went through. And just like that, Green was gone.

Every time the stock dipped, the chime went off. Unnecessary auditory reinforcement for what my eyes already saw. The line was red and it was falling. Then it was plunging. I was numb at first. Then panicked. I pawed at the phone with sweaty hands and fat fingers. I pushed the button to sell. Nothing happened. A popup declared, “We’re sorry. The market is extremely volatile right now…” The app froze. My whole world froze.

The app unfroze. The line continued its rapid decent. Pushed the button. “We’re sorry…” Froze.

Unfroze. Pushed the button. “Congratulations! You’re transaction was successful.” I had successfully lost $1700 in an hour. I started drinking.

***

The chime was insistent. Every few minutes it would play the Pavlovian sound of financial doom. It started to speed up. Half asleep, I reached for the end table, knocking off empty beer cans along the way. Eyes shut, I held the phone in front of my face, delaying whatever fresh hell was waiting for me. It chimed. I opened my eyes.

I was greeted with a torrent of notifications:

8:03 AM – ANNA Up Today – 5.3%

8:12 AM – ANNA Up Today – 7.2%

8:19 AM – ANNA Up Today – 8.9%

8:31 AM – ANNA Up Today – 11.6%

And so on. What the hell was ANNA? I opened the app to see a lovely green line merrily jaunting in a north-easterly direction. I checked the history. My purchase of 150 shares of ANNA was executed 3:35 AM. News to me. I checked my balance. My shares were worth $17,000. Chime. $18,500. Chime. $21,000. Chime. $20,000. I pressed the button and sold it all. Money transferred to my bank account, I deleted the app.

I needed to figure this out, but I needed coffee more. I headed for the kitchen, surveying the devastation my apartment had become. Cans, bottles, and pizza boxes were strewn with abandon. It amazes me that the monster that could create this debauchery could also be financial genius. I contain multitudes.

The box of pods was empty. I could see that, but it didn’t stop me from sticking my hand inside and rooting around. My fruitless quest was interrupted by a knock at the door. I answered it, and the man on the other side pushed passed me. He strutted in like he owned the place. He did.

Mr. Tarkanian surveyed the studio apartment. “Party last night?”

“Of one,” I said, raising my hand and extending my index finger. The gesture was somewhat lost on him, since I still had the box on my hand.

“Rent.” I guess the small talk portion was over. “Two months. Late fees. $2000. Today.” I envied his boxless hand as he held up two fingers.

“Okay.” I shook off the box and went to grab my phone. Mr. Tankanian began an impassioned speech that touched on responsibility, the Old Country, and millennials. I tapped a few buttons and came back into the kitchen.

“You listening to me?” he said.

“Yes…no. Sorta. Is there anything else?”

“Rent? When do I get it?”

“Um, like 30 seconds?” His pocket buzzed. “I Venmoed you.”

***

I sat on the patio of coffee shop, sipping an Americano that cost more than my tuition. Money changes you. I was about to start my investigation into ANNA, when I felt eyes on me. I looked up to see a striking woman staring at me from across the patio. “Careful, she’s just into you for your money,” said a voice in my head. I smiled at that. She smiled back. But then she wasn’t smiling.

Her gaze left me and focused down the street. Her face went slack and she bolted upright from the table. She grabbed her bag to flee, but in her haste, it caught on a chair and something fell out.

“Miss,” I said, dumbly, “I think you dropped something.” I lurched over to her table. I saw what she dropped. It was a leather-bound black notebook. Inscribed in gold on the cover was one word:

Anna

I grabbed the book and looked down the street. I looked for Anna. It didn’t take long. She hadn’t gotten far. She stood a half block away speaking with man. No, arguing with a man. A black sedan pulled up. A door opened. She got in. So did he. It pulled away. I started running.

I ran as fast as I could but the sedan was pulling away, despite the city traffic. Just when the tail lights were almost out of sight, I ran smackdab into a boy. A boy on a bike.

“Kid…I need…to borrow your…bike,” I said between gasps.

“You can have it. For a thousand bucks.”

“Do…you take…Venmo?”

***

I was catching up now. The traffic gods were kind, and the sedan was hitting every light. I was attempting to find a secure spot for the book while I rode. It went from my hand, to my armpit, to my mouth, and finally, unceremoniously, down my pants. I knew Anna would understand.

I followed the car for seven blocks until it finally came to a stop in front of a brownstone. I pulled up and dismounted just as the man was exiting the car.

“Hey!”

The man looked around for the voice and settled on the sweaty guy with the purple Huffy. “Yeah? Can I help you?”

“Let her go,” I said with more confidence than I felt.

“Her?” He gestured to the car. To Anna inside. “Look, buddy, I don’t know what you think…”

“I think that she’s scared and doesn’t want to be here. So just let her go.”

The man laughed. He took a step towards me. “She’s a lot of things but scared’s not one of them. I’m not letting her out of my sight. She owes me too much. So...unless you got 15 grand lying around, beat it.”

I sighed and pulled out my phone. “You don’t happen to have Venmo, do you?”

***

The sedan pulled away, leaving Anna and me alone on the sidewalk. She was looking at me with a mix of disbelief and amusement. I realized I was staring. I needed to say something. So I stuck my hand down my pants.

“I found your book, Anna.”

“Um, okay…but who’s Anna?

“You. You?”

“Sorry, Man. I’m a Jessica.”

I went back to staring. I finally spoke. “But, whose book is this?”

“Apparently Anna’s, but I’ve never seen it before.”

“But it was in your bag!”

Anna…I mean, Jessica looked down at the bag. She looked a touch embarrassed. “This? I swiped this off some girl uptown yesterday. Oops.”

Staring again. Jessica broke the silence this time. “Look, that was sweet what you did, but I’ve really got to get going.” She walked up to me and kissed my cheek. “I hope you find your Anna.” And then she was gone.

***

I sat on the curb for five minutes or five hours staring at the book, running my finger over the gold letters. The bike laid next to me. Attached to its handlebar was an old-fashioned bell. I reached over and absentmindedly pressed the button on top. It chimed. I got on the bike and headed uptown.