Perfect Match

by Alexis Alvarez

  “You don’t look stupid. I re-watched the shows, and you know what? They’re not as bad as you think. It’s sort of light-hearted the way she teases you on air. And you did get those couples in there! And she even featured the links to your blog and website. I honestly think the public perception isn’t as bad as you think it is.”

  “I don’t want to say it’s not as bad as I think. I want to be able to say it’s even more amazing than I dreamed. This is big!” She glanced at her desk. “Did you rearrange my stuff at all while I was at the coffee place?”

  “Me? No. Why?”

  “I don’t know. I just thought I put something else here. Forget it. I’m just losing focus with my stress.”

  “No worries. It’s cool.” Grace gave a thumb’s up, but Fia frowned. It was so dumb, but she was sure the blue folder with Dylan’s stuff in it hadn’t been so diagonal. She squinted, then shook her head. God! She was losing it.

  “Well, back to work. Wish me luck on Monday!”

  “Well, we have some big surprises today! Big surprises. Big!” Chelsea widened her arms to the audience. “You are going. To. Love. This. So. Freaking. Hard!”

  Screams.

  “So! Third date wrap up, final date announcement, and…a super special reveal regarding someone very special on set!” She shot a glance at Dylan. “So stay tuned! Don’t touch that remote.”

  Across from her on the other couch, next to Chelsea, Dylan gave Fia a strange look. She made a tiny shrug. They hadn’t talked since that day in his studio, and it sort of bothered her, even as she knew it was just the way things were going to play out. She’d texted him once to say hi. He’d texted back, just a quick hi. Whatever joy they’d had, the intensity they’d shared—had it been too much too soon for him? She was worried that he’d had his one night of passion and one afternoon with her and now he was done. Sure, he’d been out of town. But couldn’t he have at least sent an emoji, or something?

  Her nerves jangled. Chelsea had been so mean, then so oddly friendly; what was she going to do today? Dylan had already told her there was nothing bad about his date with the hiker, though—so that couldn’t possibly be used against her.

  “Let’s go over our date! Connie, here’s yours, with Dylan and Marguerite.”

  The two of them were in a vineyard. Grapes on vines, glasses flashing in the low evening light, laughter. Marguerite was gorgeous. Dylan was handsome and charming.

  “Wow, once again, Connie pulls off an amazing date!” Chelsea clapped and smiled, and the studio audience followed along. Connie nodded.

  Chelsea turned slightly to face Fia. “And here…we have Fia. Ladies. Twice this woman had not quite managed to find a perfect choice. Am I right?” On the screen behind them, bad clips of Dylan and the previous dates played. “Did she redeem herself? Let’s see!”

  Video started to play. Dylan was panting, trying to keep up with Alyssa. Alyssa looked mad. “I already told you that joke wasn’t funny. Why did you tell it a second time?”

  “I’m just trying to make you smile,” he coaxed.

  “Well, I’d rather focus on my form.”

  “It is a good form.”

  She stopped and crossed her arms. “Excuse me?”

  Dylan stopped too, panting. “Nice form. It was a compliment.”

  “Uh, okay.” She rolled her eyes.

  Chelsea pointed her remote. “Uh, oh! Looks like trouble!” The audience laughed.

  Chelsea restarted the video. Alyssa was ahead of Dylan. “Come on!” she called. “Keep up, slowpoke.” Suddenly, out of view of the camera, came her scream. “Owwww! My leg!”

  The audience gasped, and Fia jumped in her seat, staring at Dylan. “Oh my God.”

  Dylan wasn’t looking at her. He was staring at the screen, too.

  “My ankle, ow, my ankle, I think I sprained it,” the woman’s voice rang out, filled with pain. “My ankle!”

  “Shit!” Fia twisted in her seat, looking for help, but none came.

  Chelsea stopped the video. “Oh, no! That sounded like a big fall.”

  Click. A view of Dylan, his arm around her, probably trying to help her get back down the path. Alyssa’s voice: “Did you just grab a handful of my ass? Quit it.”

  Chelsea stopped the video, and the screen went black. She turned to the audience. “Wow! Drama! Luckily, she’s fine. Totally fine! No lasting damage. But uh-oh…looks like the date was not a win. Not a win.” She shook her head. “Even I can see that Connie’s service wins…again! Let’s all give her a big round of applause, everyone!”

  Fia sucked air. Dylan had sworn to her that there was nothing awful in the date that could be twisted. Fuck, he’d done it to her…again.

  She barely heard Chelsea describing how the final date choice would work, but tuned back in when Chelsea said, “And now for our big super surprise! And everyone, it regards our favorite serial dater…Dylan!”

  Cheers, laughs, signs.

  “So I had a nice heart to heart with Fia this weekend, trying to help her stay strong and persevere.” She smiled sweetly at Fia. “And guess what? In return, Fia let me know something awesome about Dylan, something none of you know.” She lowered her voice. “And you’re going. To. Die.” She turned to the audience. “Are you ready to die?”

  Screams. They were ready for Death By Announcement.

  “Well, our very own Dylan Chambers is…also a talented artist! Look at this!”

  Catchy music started playing, and on the screen, pictures of Dylan’s art—from the gallery with his other name, Dylan Thomas, flashed.

  Fia was dumbfounded. “But I—” she started, and Chelsea did a hand gesture, and Fia discovered that her mike was off. Someone off stage must have turned it off digitally, knowing exactly what was going on. “But I…” she said, and the words were lost in her throat.

  She looked at Dylan, and the expression on his face, such hurt, betrayal and anger, slayed her. She started to stand up, then sat back down, not knowing what to do.

  “Yes! He works as Dylan Thomas and has this awesome gallery and my gosh, ladies, my gosh.” Chelsea fanned herself. “Could he be any hotter? Now we find out he’s so talented. You’re gonna want to see this. Everyone’s going to want to see this! Go look him up on the website, stop by the gallery. This is fantastic. Dylan, I don’t know why you’ve been hiding this, but we are certainly so excited and lucky and honored to have you bring this talent out on our very own morning show!”

  Dylan’s voice was cold. “Certainly, Chelsea.” His jaw was tight. “I can’t properly express my thanks.”

  “Well, that’s it for today! But tune in next time for our final date in Hawaii!”

  When the cameras indicated off, Dylan strode out of the set, fast. Chelsea followed him, talking in a low voice.

  “Dylan! Wait!” Fia was desperate to reach him. But an assistant stopped her to remove the mike, and then there was something to sign, and by the time she was cleared to leave, she was frantic.

  She ran, finding him in the hallway, heading to the elevator. “I swear, I didn’t tell her.”

  “Fia, she showed me the printouts from your office. She took screenshots with her phone.” He didn’t look at her. “And the fake brochure you made. She actually likes it. Wants to feature it on the show.” He laughed, but it wasn’t kind. “I specifically asked you one thing. One thing! Not to tell anyone. And what do you do?”

  “Okay, well I made that. Yes. But I was going to show it to you, and nobody else. If she saw that, she was snooping, because I didn’t tell her. I wouldn’t.” She was pissed now. “And anyway, if we’re getting into sabotage, what the fuck about the date? You promised me one thing, too, Dylan. That it was fine, and nothing weird happened. Thanks for not mentioning the broken foot and the ass grab. Asshole.”

  “That’s not the way it went down!” he snapped.

  “I saw it, Dylan.”

  “Well, fuck.” He ran a hand through his hair.

  “You know what?” She raised h
er voice. “You’re just a douche. You lied to me again so I’d trust you and fuck you.” She didn’t bother quieting down when someone peered out of a door. “And that’s shitty. Why did you have to lie? You could just have told me, Dylan! I would have liked to know.”

  “Talk about underhanded? You go to Chelsea and tell her my secret just to cozy up to her and get on her good side? I trusted you.”

  “Cozy? Are you insane? With her? She’s like a king cobra. You don’t get cozy with her. She was completely bipolar to me, all mean, then nice, and there was no cozy. And anyway, even if I did try that, which I didn’t, it clearly didn’t work, since she still fucked me. Thank you very much.”

  “Well, thank you very much. Very fucking much.”

  They glared at each other, then Fia turned and jabbed the button. “Fuck you. Don’t talk to me again. We’re over.”

  “There’s nothing there to be over,” he snapped, although the expression in his eyes, pained and hurt, didn’t match the tone. She was about to reach out a hand, but then he turned and walked away in the other direction. Fia didn’t bother waiting to get into her car before bursting into tears.

  “Fia?” Gracie called a second time. “Fia, I have the final draft ready with the summary about the final date choice. I’m going to email it for your approval. Okay?”

  When Fia didn’t answer, Grace came over and sat her butt on the edge of the desk. “Aw, Fia, things are going to be okay.”

  Fia nodded. “I know. It just sucks. Chelsea’s such a bitch, and Dylan didn’t believe me when I said I didn’t tell her.”

  “So all along, he’s also an artist? I have to admit, it blew my mind. But God, his stuff is gorgeous!” Grace enthused. “I don’t understand why he even wanted to keep it a secret when all along Chelsea would have featured it. What artist wants less publicity?”

  “That’s what I said!” Fia agreed, defensively. “But he was all, no, I have to earn it myself, blah blah, so I accepted it. I would never have deliberately sold him out. Even if it is probably going to be good for him in the long run. Although, right now he’s an asshole, so part of me hopes his art all ends up in the bargain bins of Walmart, next to Ex-Lax that’s expired, and a dirty pot holder with a picture of a chicken on it.”

  “No, you don’t. Right?”

  Fia shrugged. “Whatever. It’s not like we’re some match made in Heaven. We agreed it was a one-night stand. Two nights. Whatever.”

  “But when you told me that you two had lunch and then went to his studio for sexytimes, I thought you were getting along so well.” Grace sounded sort of wistful. “I was pulling for you.” She narrowed her eyes at Fia. “Even though you held off on sharing the sexcapdes. You know you’re supposed to tell me that shit immediately, not wait a week!”

  Fia made a face at her. “The gallery. God! It was amazing, and that day we talked about really deep and emotional stuff, and I was starting to really fall for him. But all of that was clearly crap.”

  Grace hugged her. “Oh, Fia. It’s going to be okay.”

  “Probably it won’t.” Fia gave her a dark look.

  “Well, so you argued and swore at each other. But when you both calm down, I think you need to talk to him again. Maybe he’s really sorry.”

  “If he gave half of a shit, he would have told me that his date sprained her ankle.”

  Grace wrinkled her nose. “That whole thing is so weird, because when she called earlier, she didn’t mention—”

  “She called?” Fia jerked her head up. “All of my calls have been going right to her voicemail. She told me that directly after the date she was flying out to a remote site in the Ozarks and wouldn’t be back until…oh, today.”

  “Well, she said she just got back, and that she needs to talk to you about the TV clip.”

  “She’s probably pissed, like the other two.” Fia poked at her keyboard.

  “She sounded concerned, but not pissed. More, like, urgent? She said to call her back when you can. She said your phone went right to voicemail! Haha. That’s ironic, right?”

  Fia grabbed her phone. “Oh, yeah, I turned off the ringer before the show. I’ll call her now.” She dialed, then raised her eyebrows and waved at Gracie when the woman answered. “Hi! Alyssa? It’s Fia. How are you?”

  “Fia! I’m doing great. Listen, the reception here isn’t good. I’m hiking. Hey, I got a message on my phone—my sister said that Chelsea’s show said something about me hurting my leg and yelling at Dylan for…” Her voice faded out, then got strong again, “Ass?”

  “I’m so sorry! I had no idea you were hurt.” Fia felt her heartbeat quicken. “And Dylan, I’m sure he—”

  “Fia, I’m not injured!” Alyssa laughed. “Everything’s fine! The date was fine. I didn’t hurt myself at all.”

  “So…but you said, about the ankle?” Fia was confused. “And you fell! I don’t understand.”

  “Yeah, that. God. Well, one time I slipped on the trail and Dylan helped me up, but it wasn’t a big deal, and we had fun.”

  “But you screamed ouch? I mean, I saw the clip.” Fia was so confused.

  “So after the date, I was joking around with the camera guy. We were talking about how people fake injuries in soccer sometimes; he’s a huge soccer fan like I am. So I was playing around, imitating it. I fell on the ground and I screamed ‘ow!’ and then I was all, ‘Ah, my leg’s broken, I’m dying.’ We were laughing like crazy.”

  Fia caught her breath. “And did Dylan, what did he say?”

  “Oh, Dylan wasn’t there. He was, I don’t know, maybe in the toilet or something?” She broke off, then her voice came in again. “…must have clipped that in, or something? But no. I was actually kind of pissed that they’d act like I could hurt my ankle hiking on a dirt path. OMG.”

  “And the ass comment?”

  “Another joke with Pete. We were talking about Taylor Swift and that guy who grabbed her ass, and I made a joke to him about touching mine, and it—look, I’m really sorry! None of that was with Dylan. I don’t know what the hell is going on with that show. If that’s what reality TV is like, God, I don’t know how those people stay sane. You know?”

  “Yeah. Wow.” Fia’s head reeled. “So they cut in stuff in the wrong place.”

  “Looks like it. Stupid. I don’t think the camera guy was necessarily in on it, although who knows. Maybe they tell him to keep filming after all the formal stuff is done, and then they usually take stuff out of context when people think they’re safe. You know, though, my book sales took another huge spike because we mentioned it on the show, so I guess I can’t complain too hard. And I’m putting on my blog what really happened.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear you’re not hurt. And I’m sorry things didn’t work out with Dylan. I mean, or did…they?”

  Alyssa laughed again. “He’s really cute and relatively fit, but we didn’t click. To be honest, I sort of felt like he was just going through the motions. But I suspected going in that it was all a TV stunt for publicity, so it’s not like I’m heart-broken or anything.”

  “Well, would you like to come in when you’re back in town, and I’ll work on getting you some definite non-stunt people who are closer matches?”

  “For sure. I’ll call when I’m back in town.”

  Fia turned to Grace. “I’m so relieved I could cry! She’s not hurt. But now I’m pissed. What the fuck was Chelsea thinking? Can she do that?”

  Grace pursed her mouth. “If she is doing it, she must think she can. Maybe there’s some vague thing in your contract that hints at it, and you didn’t understand.”

  “Well, they said they might show clips, but they didn’t clarify that they might show them in a way deliberately orchestrated to make my dates and my match choices look dumb.”

  “I’m sure she’s legally covered. And she knows you won’t come after her.”

  “I’d like to come after her,” muttered Fia. “But no. I won’t. What good would that do? If she doesn’t fuck me over t
his last date, it’s—whatever. Like Alyssa said, we’re getting more business.” Calls and bookings were at their highest point ever, and her service was acquiring new members daily.

  “Well, so let’s forget about that and just focus on the final date. Are you ready to travel to Hawaii? I’m so glad I get to come, too, even though I don’t get to be on TV.” Grace smiled.

  “Connie. Good to see you again.” Fia took the chair across from her TV rival.

  “Yes.” Connie smiled. “This time I ordered the kale radicchio salads, one of my favorites. I think you’ll like them.”

  “The kale radicchio salads?” For some reason, this triggered a thought—and suddenly a man popped into her mind. Derek Giles, a sixty-two-year-old twice-divorced man with two grown kids. Self-made millionaire, sexy silvery fox, witty and handsome. He liked those shitty salads, too. Something about him had made her think of Connie, and she almost wondered if… “Connie,” she said. “Are you with someone?”

  Connie wrinkled her brow and pulled back. “Me? With someone?” She paused. “I am not.” Her up tilt on the last word made it a question.

  “I’m asking because I have this guy, and I have a feeling maybe you’d like him.”

  “In your service, you mean?” Connie laughed.

  “Yes.” Fia nodded, and gained enthusiasm. “I haven’t done your numbers, and I know you’re not even a client, but something about the two of you makes me just wonder. That’s all.”

  “Hmmm.” Connie regarded her for a second.

  “I mean, if you wanted to enter into my system, I’d be happy to set you up. No charge, I mean.” Fia added. “Just for fun.”

  “Hmm. Well, all right. Yes!” Connie nodded. “But only if you sign up in my service, as well.”

  Fia demurred. “Oh, no. Connie, I’m not looking.”

  “Nonsense. Everyone’s looking.”

  “Really, I’m not. Just like Dylan’s not.” She felt her face warm.

  A little smile played on Connie’s face. “Even so, I have a man I think would be a great match for you.”