Swipe Right

by Tagan Shepard

  I plucked the skewer of olives out of both glasses and tossed them onto a cocktail napkin. Then I grabbed one drink and tipped it back like a shot. I could almost hear the hiss of the anger steaming out of me as the ice-cold alcohol tempered it.

  Handing the empty glass back to Abby, I snatched the one Pen had been reaching for and gave it the same treatment. “You’re welcome. These are delicious, Abby. I’ll take another.”

  For a minute or two Abby and Pen were frozen in place, open-mouthed and staring at me. My anger started to crack through the martinis’ ice crust. Sure, it wasn’t like me to down two martinis like water, but everyone’s allowed a bad day. As I opened my mouth to argue, they both snapped into action. Pen took an impressive sip from her wine and Abby started rinsing the shaker.

  “It was like that, huh?” Pen asked as another martini landed on the bar in front of me. She glanced at Abby and said, “How about a club soda to go with that?”

  Abby had already made one, complete with a twist of lemon, and put it down next to my growing collection of olives. As soon as she left to serve a couple at the other end of the bar, I started ranting about my disaster date.

  Yes, it was a rant and it was extremely undignified, but if anyone had reason to rant, it was me. Luckily for me, I had the best friend in the world and she listened intently, peppering my monologue with indignant grunts at all the right places. When I mentioned Carla’s comments about my degree her face got so red I thought she was having a heart attack. When I told her about storming out after only paying for my part of the meal, she hooted and clapped her approval. Abby shot us a smile and that anger I’d been carrying melted another inch.

  My martini was empty again and I wanted another, but Pen stopped me, taking the hand I’d raised to summon Abby in hers and sliding the club soda in front of me. “I want to make sure you make it home tonight.”

  I held the soda water but didn’t drink. I was still more inclined to chew the glass. Then Pen ran her thumb over my other hand and some of my anger leaked away in the repetitive pressure.

  “She’s barking up the wrong tree if she thinks title agents are rich. I can’t even get you to buy me lunch,” Pen said, pushing her empty glass away and reaching over the bar to grab a bottle of water. Abby shot her a warning glare that changed into a smile with Penelope’s wink. “Maybe we should ask where she went to college. She’s not real bright.”

  I grunted, finally sipping my soda water. It was surprisingly refreshing and I was so thirsty.

  “And look at her pictures,” Pen continued. “She’s way too skinny. Bet this was her only meal this week.”

  “Not funny.”

  Okay, that was kind of funny. Not enough to make me laugh, which probably wouldn’t happen for another five years, but I smiled.

  “Was the food good?” Pen asked, her eyes following a middle-aged woman in a midriff shirt.

  “It was excellent.” I waited until she looked at me again and raised an eyebrow. “That one’s dressed like she raided her daughter’s closet.”

  “She probably did.” With a half-smile, Pen replied, “I took her home a couple weeks ago.”

  “Did it go better than my date?”

  “I can’t remember.” She emptied her water bottle and took both my hands. Her palms were so soft and her grip was light but sure. “Tonight was terrible and I’m sorry, Kieran. But hey, you got the bad date out of the way, so it can only go up from here, right?”

  “Why would you jinx me like that?”

  Pen laughed, but her face sobered quickly. She looked into my eyes and, as always when she held my gaze like this, I felt safe. She’d looked at me like that when Nick left. And when Alex left. Pen was always the one who made me feel better. Tears sprung to my eyes, but I didn’t want to cry in public, so I looked away.

  “You’re going to find someone amazing, Kieran.” Her gentle, throaty tone and warm hands weren’t going to help with the crying problem. “I promise. We just need to keep the losers at bay.”

  “What if…”

  “Nope.”

  I’m the loser. I finished the sentence in my head since she wouldn’t let me say it out loud.

  “So she got the wrong impression from your profile pic,” Pen continued, refusing to let me wallow in my negative thoughts. “We need to change that impression.”

  “How?”

  “New pics, dummy.” She accompanied the teasing with a squeeze of my hands.

  The tactile reminder that she was leading me through this helped, so I squeezed back. “You’re always the smart one, Pen.”

  Chapter Seven

  I felt better the next day, at least emotionally. Physically was questionable after three martinis, but it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. I got up on time and went for a run before work, a thing I rarely did and always regretted the moment it started. I had a healthy breakfast, washed all my dishes and made my bed before leaving the house. My mom would’ve been so proud. The traffic even cooperated and I was the first into the office. There was something incredibly rewarding about brewing the initial pot of coffee, especially after drinking half a bottle of gin at Riveter’s.

  The first half-hour of my workday went by in a blissful solitude. Randy arrived fifteen minutes after me, but he locked himself in his office with little more than a wave of appreciation for his full coffee mug. I wouldn’t see him for the rest of the day, and that was fine with me.

  Carol arrived next, at nine o’clock on the dot, and unlocked the front door on her way in. She was much friendlier than Randy, asking about my plans for the weekend, but her back, aching in her seventh month of pregnancy, quickly forced her to her desk’s ergonomic chair. Carol was our receptionist/office manager/group therapist and I dreaded the months we would be without her when the baby was born.

  The rest of the office trudged in behind Carol, Arthur bringing up the rear. I had cleared out both my electronic and paper inboxes and was settling into an extensive review of closing documents for next week when Arthur’s grinning face interrupted my work.

  “You had a date last night.”

  It wasn’t a question and I immediately suspected Pen of blabbing. That was ridiculous, of course, because Pen hated Arthur and also hated gossip. “Why would you think that?”

  He ticked off his answers on his fingers as he spoke. “You lingered around last night, waiting for us to leave. You had a dress hanging from the back of your door. You were nervous and excited all day. You didn’t go out with Penelope after work. And there was a smear of foundation in your shade on the bathroom counter this morning.”

  “Why were you in the women’s bathroom and how do you know my foundation shade?”

  “I wasn’t and I don’t, but the rest was true and you confirmed my suspicions. Don’t change the subject. How was your date?”

  At least I didn’t have to worry about my only work friend being a creep, hanging around the women’s bathroom. I shrugged and answered, “It was awful, but I learned a lot.”

  I picked up my file and walked out of the room, hoping he would take the hint. He didn’t. Art followed, wearing a fatherly grin. “What’d you learn?”

  “Not to date someone because they’re hot,” I answered, making my way through the back hallway that connected to the real estate offices next door. “Pick someone I’m compatible with instead.”

  “It is possible to find both. Or so I’ve heard.”

  I knocked on a door and pushed inside. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  Arthur hung back while I talked to the Realtor about his clients’ closing. The appraisal had come back lower than expected and I worried the mortgage company might get cold feet. Any other title agent would be interested, but Arthur ignored the entire exchange, picking at his fingernails to show his boredom.

  The conversation finished, I left, Arthur at my heels, continuing to press me for details of my date. Most of his questions were a thinly veiled attempt to discover my date’s gender, so I spent a lot of tim
e avoiding pronouns to mess with him.

  “So how did you meet this mysterious hot date of yours anyway?”

  I stopped to let a Realtor and her client pass. We exchanged pleasantries with the pair and I stumbled through introductions while wracking my brain for a way to get rid of Arthur. Unfortunately, I’m terrible at thinking on my feet and they left without saving me. Arthur crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Ugh. Fine.” I dropped my voice and mumbled, “A dating app.”

  “Couldn’t hear you.”

  His smile said he’d heard me fine so I growled a little louder, “A dating app, okay? I’m on a dating app.”

  “Online dating?” He said the words as though they were in a foreign language. “Our little Kieran has finally joined the twenty-first century and discovered the Internet?”

  “Screw you, Art.”

  “I’m teasing you, kid,” he said like a doting uncle rather than an annoying coworker.

  “Well, don’t.” I wasn’t in the mood for his condescension. Not from a happily married guy with the perfect life.

  “Be careful, okay? I’ve heard a lot of horror stories about the people on dating apps.”

  “From who?”

  “From whom.”

  Yep, that was it. I was gonna punch him. Right there in the middle of the Three Keys Realty office.

  “It’s all the same people, no matter which app you’re on, and nothing ever comes of it,” Art said, rocking back on his heels.

  “You’ve never used a dating app, Art.” My look of disdain warped into shock as I realized he might be confessing to cheating on his wife. “Have you?”

  His face went deathly pale, quite the sight since he hated going outside and his skin was so fair. “God no! Not me. Other people. I know other people who’ve used them.”

  The squeak in his voice confirmed his words and I had a really hard time holding back my laughter. As always, Pen saved me. She came out of her office accompanied by a leggy brunette wearing blue jeans and a positively radiant smile. Arthur excused himself with the dubious explanation of pressing work matters and scurried away. He didn’t hate Pen as much as she hated him, but there was no love lost between them. Eventually, Pen peeled her eyes from her guest and turned her smile on me.

  “So you’re alive,” Pen said. “And you look much better than I expected after last night.”

  “Someone made me drink a lot of water,” I replied before turning to the brunette. “Hello, I’m Kieran Hall.”

  She had a stronger grip than I expected, but her hand was soft and warm. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Kieran.”

  Since the stranger didn’t seem inclined to introduce herself, I turned to Pen for an explanation. She was probably a client and a wealthy one at that if she expected me to know who she was without a greeting, so I should be nice even though she came off as arrogant.

  “Kieran, this is Ashley Britt.” Pen flashed me a toothy grin as soon as she said the name, turning back to Ashley. “The photographer.”

  The photographer. I could feel my face heat up and tried desperately to stop the reaction. Pen had a lot of friends, but she lived a very compartmentalized life and most of us hadn’t met each other. Even without having met Ashley, I knew far more about her than I wanted to. While Pen tended to favor romantic entanglements with a life span measured in hours, she also had a few friends with benefits. Ashley was one of those friends. In fact, Ashley and her wife were both Pen’s friends, sometimes together, sometimes separately.

  In addition to their regular meetings of a less professional nature, Ashley photographed Pen’s listings and she was super talented. Nothing sold a home faster than perfectly staged photos.

  “Nice to finally meet you.” I somehow managed a smile to match the comment. She was a friend of Pen’s and any friend of Pen’s was a friend of mine. “Your photographs are incredible.”

  “Thank you,” she replied. “That’s so sweet.”

  Pen pulled her office door shut as she turned to me. “Speaking of photographs, want me to come over tonight so we can get some new ones of you?”

  “That would be great,” I said, leading them down the hall. “Unless you have other plans.”

  “We should be done by the time you’re off work.”

  A look that definitely included a wink passed between them and I hoped they were professional enough to get a hotel room rather than hooking up while photographing a client’s house.

  Ashley looked fun enough, so I tested her with a joke. “Sorry to hear that.”

  As I hoped, instead of being offended, she laughed, rolling back her ridiculously long neck and elbowing Pen in the ribs. “So am I. For her sake. Trust me, I’ll get what I need.”

  I was starting to like Ashley. Pen scowled at us, but there was a twinkle in her eye. “Don’t make me sorry I introduced the two of you.”

  “If only her ego was as solid as her abs,” Ashley said, leaning close.

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  Pen’s growing indignation was enough to set me laughing.

  “What do you need pictures for anyway, Kieran?” Ashley asked. “If you need a headshot, I’d be happy to help.”

  “Her headshot’s what got her in trouble in the first place,” Pen said, stopping in the lobby, which was significantly busier than mine. “Her profile pic on Swingle is her headshot and she snared a gold-digger. We need some tasty selfies so she can catch someone less superficial.”

  I cut Pen a warning look. Ashley seemed nice, but I barely knew her and I didn’t need a stranger, particularly my best friend’s booty call, judging my romantic and sexual shortcomings.

  Ashley gave me an appraising look. “Men or women?”

  “Both,” I said. “Or neither. I’m open to everyone.”

  “Hmmm. Usually men like to see tits and women like to see lips. Lucky for you, neither will be a problem. I don’t know what nonbinary folks are into. Maybe a little of both? Help her with the best angles, Penelope?”

  “That’s my plan.”

  She was a photographer so I suppose it wasn’t as gross as it felt that she could talk so clinically about which of my body parts I should show off, but it felt weird. I doubt I’d have felt that way if Pen had said it. Chances were she’d just help me with the shot, not spell out why I should aim a camera at my cleavage. Subtlety didn’t appear to be one of Ashley’s strengths.

  “Swingle, huh?” Ashley’s smile was mostly a leer.

  I looked around, but everyone nearby was engrossed in conversation. Even with their distractions, I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk about this in such a public place. Pen leaned in, bringing the three of us closer and pitching her voice low. “Kieran’s jumping back in the dating world after a brief absence.”

  “How’s it working out for you?”

  “One disaster date,” I replied, but I didn’t want to sound like a sad loser in front of Ashley. I put on an upbeat tone and continued, “But I’m talking to someone new and it’s going well.”

  “Really?” Pen looked at me with such a warm, sweet smile that I almost felt bad about the lie. “That’s great! I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

  Yep. I was a jerk.

  “My wife and I used to use Swingle,” Ashley said, shoving her hands into the back pockets of her skinny jeans. The posture was flattering to literally every inch of her body. Most of those conversations that had been distracting folks earlier became far less interesting than Ashley’s killer body.

  I was about to ask for the sweet story of how she and her wife met on the app, but then she and Pen made eye contact and the pieces clicked into place. Ashley and her wife didn’t meet each other on Swingle. The two of them met Pen there. I remembered that Ashley wasn’t just using her hall pass with Pen, she was their third. I’d always wondered where Pen found Ashley and now I knew. It would have been incredibly fortuitous in a professional setting for Pen to just happen to find a photographer looking for a third. Not even Pen had luck that g
ood.

  “Time for us to head over to Georgetown,” Pen said, holding an arm out for Ashley. Pen gave me a wink as she pushed open the door. “See you around five thirty?”

  Ashley waved over her shoulder to me. “It’ll probably be more like six.”

  They swept out into the muggy day, taking all my energy with them. I checked my watch to find it was noon. Guess I would be eating lunch at my desk today. That was probably for the best. I could use the time finding someone to message on Swingle. Maybe by the time Pen came over tonight, I really would have someone new.

  Chapter Eight

  Ashley had been right. Pen didn’t get to my place until quarter past six. She made up for it by bringing pizza. She was in a great mood, and that made two of us. We laughed through dinner even though the pizza was veggies on cauliflower crust. I’d accepted long ago that Pen’s dietary needs, along with her enforced days of rest, were sacrosanct, so I didn’t complain too much about the lack of pepperoni.

  “Tell me about this new person you’re messaging,” Pen said as I washed our dishes.

  I handed her a plate to dry, letting my smile grow. “Chloe. She’s a nurse who lives here in Woodbridge. Forty-two, divorced, two dogs, and owns her own place.”

  “Wow,” Pen said, stacking the dry plates into the cupboard. “Really? I thought you were lying this afternoon when you said you’d found someone new.”

  My voice was super shrill when I shouted, “What? Of course not!”

  “Oh thank goodness. You were lying.” Pen stacked the last plate in the cupboard. “I was worried I couldn’t read you anymore.”

  “I said I wasn’t lying.”

  “Yeah, but as bad as you are at lying, you’re even worse at denying it when you do. It’s okay. I would’ve lied to Ashley, too. She can be intimidating.”

  “I wasn’t intimidated,” I grumbled, but I knew this lie was no more convincing than the others. “She’s just…”