CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The marketing firm that Garret Blake worked for was called One-Up. It was located in Manhattan, in one of the trendier little nooks where everything seemed to be bookended by coffee shops, music stores that were stocked full with vinyl, and expensive juice bars. They found the place easy enough and by 9:45, Kate was parking in a small garage across the street from the building One-Up was located in.
The interior was cute and welcoming, decorated mostly with glass walls and bright blasts of color with encouraging phrases. The woman at the welcome desk was in her mid-twenties with a nose ring, an eyebrow ring, and a shock of bright purple in her black hair.
“Can I help you?” the secretary asked.
“We need to speak with Garret Blake,” DeMarco said.
“Do you have an appoint
