Mr. Big Ego (Dirty South Book 3)

by Kat Addams

  “How about we find you a man to fix your home up, Roger included, while also finding me some new inspo for my novel? I’ll help you. We can work as a team.”

  “Lord, Klara, you’ve got too much time on your hands.” I shook my head, waving her off with my hand.

  “And so do you! What do you even have planned today? Watching Wheel of Fortune and grumbling about people speeding down your street?”

  Crap. She’s right.

  “I watch Family Feud. That white girl turning those letters on the other show gets my nerves in a tizzy. I can’t stand to watch her. She’s too smiley for me. And people do drive crazy down here! What if I’m hobbling out there to check my mail, and some turd nugget comes flying out from nowhere and hits me? You know I have to use a walker to get down my drive now? Damn long driveway. Would have moved to a retirement facility if they didn’t cost an arm and a leg,” I grumbled.

  “Still changing the subject. Wow. All right, Ms. May, do you want your stuff fixed or not? We can treat it like a game if you want.”

  “I wouldn’t even know where to start! Church?” I felt the corners of my mouth spread as I thought about Brother Anthony. Maybe this wasn’t going to be a bad idea after all.

  “You could. Although, these days, we use apps. Can I see your phone? I’ll get it, just tell me where it is.” She rose to her feet.

  “Over there on the kitchen counter. What do you need it for? What kind of app? I don’t know how to do anything on those damn smart-things, except text and make a phone call. Grandbabies tried teaching me, but it’s over my head.”

  Klara took the few steps to the kitchen and hurried back with my phone, scooting herself close to me. “Now, look, I’m going to download an app. It’s like a program. It is going to find you a man.”

  “How the hell?” I started.

  “Just wait and watch. Listen for a minute. I know you have a hard time keeping that big mouth of yours shut, but just hear me out. I’m downloading Tinder for you. You set your distance range and age range, and you’re good to go. We’ll plug in your stats, and you can get to swiping.” Her fingers flew over my phone, arranging this and that and I didn’t know what else. “Oh, super important. Do you have a good picture of you?”

  “From ten years ago. Why?” I watched her as she typed in a maximum of a hundred-plus on an age range. “One hundred? They ain’t going to be able to fix a damn thing, except for their life insurance policy—over their landline—when they see what I’m bringing to the table!”

  “I like that spirit of yours. You need that in online dating. Good for you. I doubt you’ll get hit on by many men over a hundred. I think they usually die around eighty. I set your minimum to thirty, so maybe you can play cougar. Here, let me take a picture of you for your profile. You can’t put a ten-year-old photo up. I mean, some people do, but we won’t play that game. We want real, authentic people. For you and my book.” She stood up, smoothing down my hair.

  “What are you doing?” I batted her hands away.

  “You can’t put yourself out there, looking like you just rolled out of bed!”

  “But I did just roll out of bed!” I groaned. “Go get some damn lipstick out of my bathroom and whatever else, and let’s do this. I’m already ready to go back to bed.” Yet another one of those great things that happened when you were getting old—no energy.

  She quickly ran out of the room and back, carrying a fistful of makeup that I’d had stuck in a drawer ever since my divorce. “Sit still and let me get this on you.” She tilted my chin to the side, observing my face. “Ms. May, you don’t have any wrinkles. Do you Botox?”

  “No, baby. Black don’t crack. You ain’t never noticed that?”

  “Huh. No, but I guess you’re right. Lucky lady—and an even luckier man who is going to date you.” She bounced on her heels as she put more makeup on me than I’d even put on myself when I was young and wild—too wild.

  “Are you almost done?” I said through parted lips as she swiped a skanky shade of red over them. I’d had that color since my early twenties. I curled my lips back at the stale, crumbled texture that was somehow disgusting and oddly satisfying at the same time. It tasted like the flavor of reckless behavior from long ago.

  “Done. Now, tilt your head to the left and raise your chin.” Klara stepped back, holding up my phone and snapping picture after picture. “Perfect! Now, let me go through, find a good one, slap a filter on it, and post it.”

  “I have no idea what you’re doing, but this’d better make me rich and famous.” I slumped in my seat and reached for another doughnut.

  “Not making any promises, but here, that’s your profile.” She handed me my phone. “Now, all you have to do is swipe left past any men you don’t think you’d want as a friend or lover or fix-it man—whatever. If you do see someone you’re interested in, you swipe right. If that person swiped right on you, then Tinder will see it as a match. Then, you two can send messages to each other. Easy-peasy. Any questions?”

  “Do I get a cut of royalties for this?” I muttered, staring down at a photo of a forty-six-year-old man in a public restroom, flipping off the camera.

  “Oh, Ms. May, you know I’ll always take care of you. I have to run though. I only had a minute today. Chris is coming back from a lecture, and I want to make the house nice. Damn cats have been tearing up everything! Now, get to swiping! I’ll be back next week for a report! Take notes if you have to! Oh, and don’t meet any yet! They could be serial killers. I’ll help you figure all that out. Just find some good ones, flirt a little, get to know them.” She walked over to the kitchen, putting her mug in the dishwasher.

  “I don’t even remember agreeing to this,” I sighed. “You are going to give me another heart attack.”

  She turned to Roger and reared her foot back, letting it go into a ninja kick to his side. He immediately fired up. “No, I’m just trying to help. Maybe get that old heart of yours working again along with this damn piece-of-crap furnace.”

  “Thank you, Klara. Don’t know what I’d do without you and the gang.” I set my phone down, trying to pull myself up to see her out.

  “Now, don’t you go getting soft on me. Don’t get up. I’ll lock the door. See you soon!” She waved her hand, smiling before she left with her signature pep in her step.

  I guessed if anything were to come out of this, at least it made her happy. And that girl was like a daughter to me these days. She took care of me. I picked up my phone and began to swipe in the name of research, Klara, and maybe even in hopes of kicking Roger to the curb for a newer model.