No More Terrible Dates

by Kate O'Keeffe

She uncrosses her limbs and stretches up toward the ceiling, standing on her tiptoes, then lets out a deep breath of air. “Oh, that feels so much better.”

  “I’ve got a couple of things for you before you go to the event this morning,” I say as I hang the dress up on a hook and pull the plastic sheath from it.

  “What are they?” She slips her shirt off, and I hand her the dress, which she pulls on over her head in one effortless, graceful movement.

  “I’ve been doing some research into options for the gallery.”

  Her face lights up. “Please tell me you got the wallabies.”

  “Larissa, we’ve been over this. Auckland Zoo won’t lease wallabies out for events.”

  “They should! Imagine the possibilities.”

  Imagine the poop.

  “I think it’s not considered ethical practice by the animal welfare people.”

  “Oh, yes. Of course. Animal welfare is an extremely important issue to me.”

  “I’m talking about the actual photographs for the opening exhibit.” I hand her the collection of screenshots and hold my breath. “Here are some examples of some photographers’ work. Personally, I really like them, and I’m sure we could find something in there that resonates with you.”

  Please like them. Please like them.

  She leafs through them and then looks back up at me. “Why are you showing me these? We’ve already got our photographer, and his work is incredible. Although I wish his name was Alex Alex. It’s better than Alex Walsh, don’t you think?” She stretches her hand out, and I reluctantly take the printouts back.

  “But some of these are just as amazing.” I pull out an image of a couple of laughing, wizened old women sitting on the steps of a beautiful old church in some place that looks like it could be Greece or Italy. Some country where they have happy, wizened old women and beautiful old churches. “To me, this photograph is all about how age may wither us, but laughter remains . . . particularly with our old friends . . . you know, at churches.”

  I’m doing my best to channel my inner Larissa here. It’s not working.

  She takes the photo back and examines it for a moment. “I do like a positive aging message,” she says, hope whooshing through me. No Alex Walsh, here I come! “Although, between you and me, these women could do with a spot or two of Botox. Don’t you think? The eyelids on this one here seem to have completely eclipsed her eyes. What kind of life can that be? Not being able to see because of your Shar-Pei folds. She must need little sticks to hold them up, like a Salvador Dali painting.” She shudders. “Nightmare.”

  “She looks happy to me, like she’s old but happy, so everything is all right with the world,” I offer hopefully.

  “No.” She thrusts the photograph back at me. “I want to stick with what we’ve got. Alex Walsh’s work speaks to me.”

  I let out a defeated puff of air. When something “speaks to” Larissa, there’s no way to talk her out of it. So many things have “spoken” to her since I’ve been her assistant. Rocks, crystals, ponchos, even a kitten spoke to her once, which made me wonder whether she fancied herself as a bit of a Dr. Doolittle type until I remembered it wasn’t literally speaking to her. (In my defense, it was meowing a whole lot at the time.)

  I always get an image of whatever it is that’s currently “speaking” to her with a large mouth, jabbering away. In my lighter moments, I wonder what they say to her? “How’s it going?” “You look familiar.” “Why are you always in blue?”

  Whatever it is Alex’s photographs have said to her, I’d like to make them shut the heck up, that’s for sure.

  “The thing is, Darcy, I don’t care about those other photographers’ work. I care about the work of the photographer that touched me here.” She pats her chest. “I need Alex Walsh in this gallery. No one else.”

  “But—” I give up. My hopes are dashed. My New Shiny Toy Plan has been well and truly foiled, and now I’ve got no choice but to work with Alex. “Sure. I got it.” Knowing when I’m beat, I ball up the images I searched online for hours to find.

  “What was the other thing?” she asks me as she sits at her desk.

  “I got that info you wanted on wheatgrass supplements. I emailed it to you.”

  “What would I do without you?”

  Have wallabies dressed as waiters wandering around at gallery openings?

  “I’m here to help, Larissa. It’s my job.”

  “Remind me to get you some of these mini wheatgrass shots. You simply rip off the lid and drink them in one. They will change your life.”

  “Wheatgrass shots sound—” Terrible? Horrible? Vomit-inducing? “—really great. Thank you.” I paste on a smile. “While you’re reading that info I sent you, I’m going to pop out for half an hour. Is that okay?”

  She knots her brows together. “Where are you going? What if I need you?”

  “You won’t. I’ll get your kale smoothie and acai berry granola before I go, and I’ll be back before we need to leave to get to the venue for your keynote speech.”

  “Ooh, while you’re out, can you get me something? I want to try skyr. Everyone’s talking about it.”

  “Skyr?” I question.

  “It’s Icelandic,” she replies, completely unhelpfully, and returns her attention to her laptop screen.

  Sure, that narrows it down for me.

  “How do you spell it?”

  She spells it out for me.

  “Skyr. Got it. I’ll bring you some back.”

  “What are you scurrying off to do without me, then?”

  I allow myself a little smile. The show jumping guy Erin and Darcy found me online has agreed to meet me for an Initial Meeting over coffee today. “I’ve got a first date.”

  ——

  Okay, I know. Officially, it’s an Initial Meeting I’m rushing off to right now, but I didn’t want to have to go into the whole No More Bad Dates Pact thing with Larissa. She’d want to know everything about it. Or worse: she might want to join.

  The very thought makes me quake in my heels.

  I glance at my watch as I push my way through into the busy café. Four minutes late, dammit. Along with being super organized, I take pride in being on time, all the time. Turning up late before you’ve even met the guy is not exactly a positive message to send a prospective boyfriend, is it?

  We’re meeting at a café near my work. Not only do I have a short time before I’ve got to get back to Larissa, but the last thing I want to do is go to the Cozy Cottage Café and have Alex breathing down my neck as I meet another guy. Particularly if that guy ends up hitting on him after I’ve left.

  But lightning doesn’t strike in the same place twice, right?

  At least, that’s what I’m hoping.

  I scan the room, searching for Seth Heikkinen. He said he’d be in a white button-up business shirt with no tie, and now that I look around me, half the men in the coffee house are wearing just that.

  I bite the inside of my lip as I scan the room. Why did I agree to meet this guy at business person coffee time in downtown Auckland?

  “Excuse me? Are you Darcy?” a smooth, cultured-sounding voice says behind me.

  I turn around and look up into an open, friendly face, a pair of hazel eyes, and a tentative smile. He’s got a hint of Bradley Cooper to him, just like in his photograph. “Seth?”

  “That’s me. It’s great to meet you.” He leans down and lightly brushes his lips against my cheek, and I catch the aroma of his aftershave. Subtle, woody, with a hint of vanilla. Nice.

  “You, too,” I reply with a light blush.

  We grin at one another like we’re in some kind of daze before he breaks it with, “Can I buy you a coffee?”

  “Oh, sure. Sorry, I was just thinking about how you look a little like Bradley Cooper.” Oops. My cheeks heat up another notch with embarrassment. “Did I just say that out loud?”

  He lets out a light laugh. “You did, but it’s okay. It’s not every day I get told I lo
ok like a Hollywood heartthrob by a beautiful girl.”

  Seth-slash-Bradley thinks I’m beautiful?

  “Actually, I might have tea,” I say as tingles start zinging around inside. “Early Grey, please.”

  “An Earl Grey tea coming right up.” He turns to the server and orders our beverages, and then we find a table.

  “These things are always a little awkward, aren’t they?” he says across the table.

  I push memories of my last date from my mind. “They can be, I guess.”

  “So, let’s break the ice. What are the top three things I need to know about you, Darcy Evans?” he asks.

  “Seriously?” I guffaw. “You’re putting me on the spot before I’ve even had my first sip of tea? That’s totally not fair.”

  The corners of his mouth lift. “What would be fair?”

  “I don’t know. You could start by asking me where I grew up, what I like to do on weekends, whether I’m a cat person or a dog person. Things like that.”

  “Okay.” He leans his elbows on the table, trains his eyes on me, and tilts his head as though he’s about to say something super serious. “Tell me, Darcy, where did you grow up, what do you like to do on weekends, and are you a cat person or a dog person?”

  “Auckland, karaoke, and dogs.” I shoot him a triumphant smile. “You?”

  Our server delivers our coffees and we thank her. Once she’s gone, he fixes me with his gaze again. “Not Auckland, definitely not karaoke, and I like both cats and dogs equally.”

  “Oh, no you don’t. No one likes cats and dogs equally. You’re either more one or the other. So, what is it? Cats or dogs?”

  He shrugs. “Both.”

  “Are you going to be difficult about this?” I tease. “Research shows humans are either cat people or dog people, and their preference says a lot about a person.”

  “Oh, research says it, does it?” His eyes sparkle.

  “It does.”

  Oh, I’m so getting the feels for this guy!

  “If I’m a dog person, does that mean I like to run around with a stick in my mouth and sniff other dogs’ butts? Because gross.” He pulls a face.

  A giggle bubbles up inside me. “I think it might be a little subtler than that.”

  “That’s good, because when it comes to animals, I’m more of a horse person, anyway.”

  “Do you have a horse?”

  “I have several, actually. Yoda, Leia, and recently, I acquired Fin.”

  “Star Wars?” I don’t know whether it’s cute to name your horses after characters in a sci-fi movie series or just a bit weird. But I’m being open-minded here. It’s officially cute—until further notice.

  He nods. “Guilty. I’ve been a Star Warrior for years.”

  “A Star Warrior?”

  “A huge fan of the franchise.”

  “Got it. Like a Trekkie.”

  He laughs. “But much better.”

  I grin at him. “Clearly.”

  “I, ah, lost one of my horses a while back. Han.”

  “Han Solo?” I question, taking a stab in the dark at the horse’s full name.

  Seth nods. “He was a beautiful Thoroughbred with a silky dark coat and a little white mark right here.” He draws an invisible line with his finger on his forehead and down his nose.

  “I’m sorry. Losing your horse would be hard.”

  “I’ve got a picture of him I could show you.” He pulls his phone out and starts to scroll through his images until he finds what he’s looking for. “Here.” He turns the phone around, and I admire the horse.

  “What a gorgeous horse. I’m sorry you lost him. Do you still show jump?”

  “Oh, yes. I love it. Although I don’t do the same types of shows I did with Han. I couldn’t, you know?”

  I nod sagely. This guy clearly loved his horse.

  “Now, Darcy, tell me why you’re a dog person and if it has anything to do with the squeaky chew toys.”

  I laugh. Wow, this guy is easy to talk to. And cute, too.

  We get to know one another over our beverages, joking and laughing together until we get to the tricky end of our Initial Meeting, the point where I need to tell him about the Vetting Process.

  “Let me get this straight. You need me to meet your friends and answer a bunch of personal questions before we can go out again?”

  “I know it sounds crazy, but, well, I’ve not exactly had the best dating track record.”

  “Really?”

  “Try terrible, horrible, awful. Take your pick. They all work.”

  “Will I get quizzed about a bunch of things?”

  “You will, but it’s just to make sure you’re not going to turn into a weirdo or something,” I say with a forced laugh. I hold my breath and cross my fingers under the table in the hope he’s anything but a weirdo.

  “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be much of a weirdo. I’m a dentist,” he says without a hint of irony—and with a perfect smile.

  “I’m sure you’ll sail through, no problem.”

  The skin around his eyes crinkles as his smile grows. “I’d be happy to meet your friends. I think we’ve got something here.”

  I beam back at him, Seth Heikkinen, show jumper with the Star Wars horses. “Me too.”

  Chapter 6

  The evening of Seth’s Vetting arrives, and I’d love to say I’m taking it all in stride, but truth be told, I’m as worried as a Real Housewife when her plastic surgeon runs out of Botox (although not as wrinkly, of course).

  All that needs to happen between now and about forty-five minutes from now is for Seth to pass, and then we can sail off into the sunset together for our very first date.

  I’m not going to lie; it took me a crazy amount of time to get ready tonight. With Erin perched on my bed, acting as advisor, I tried on at least half my non-blue wardrobe—because I never wear blue anymore when I’m not at work—until I finally settled on a little black dress with a very flattering neckline. It makes me look feminine and cool at the same time. Which is a hard thing to achieve, you know.

  The fact that it was the first dress I’d tried on, as Erin very helpfully pointed out, is absolutely irrelevant. It’s perfect, and I hope Seth thinks so, too. Because I’m not going to mess around with this. No way. Good guys don’t come along that often. Or ever, really, in my depressing recent experience.

  Erin and I arrive at O’Reilly’s, our favorite Irish pub, and we spot Sophie with her boyfriend, Jason, at the bar. It’s early so there’s only a smattering of people in the place.

  “Hello, hello!” I say brightly when we reach the loved-up couple.

  “Hey, babe. You look gorgeous!” Sophie gives me a quick hug. “Don’t worry, it’ll just be us girls. Jason’s not hanging around. Are you, honey?”

  “Nope. I’ve got a date with destiny. Or a mate, to be more specific,” he says with a grin.

  “Jas is in the throes of a full-force bromance,” Sophie explains.

  “Sounds like fun,” Erin replies with a grin.

  “It’s not a bromance. We’re just a couple of guys who like to hang out, that’s all,” he protests.

  Sophie rolls her eyes and mouths “bromance” to us, and I laugh.

  “Not a bromance, and I’m changing the subject now,” Jason says in mock irritation. “Erin. You must know Nick Zachary, right? He plays for the Hawks.”

  Erin throws her eyes to the ceiling. “Don’t remind me. Nick Zachary isn’t exactly at the top of my list of favorite things.”

  Erin has worked as a Sponsorship Account Manager for Auckland City Hawks since she graduated, and she doesn’t exactly hold its players in high regard. She thinks they’re a bunch of egomaniacs, even if many of them are very talented players and the team currently holds the coveted Carter Cup.

  “Why not? He’s an incredible player. He’s super quick and racks up the points for the team. He’s one of my favorite things,” Jason replies.

  “Jas, you are rugby mad,” Sophie says with a
shake of her head. “But I’ve got to admit, Nick Zachary is very good looking. He does those car ads, right?”

  “Ooh, that’s Nick Zachary? Oh, yeah, he’s hot,” I say.

  Erin shakes her head. “His ego matches the size of the billboards he’s on, believe me.”

  “They’re calling him the ‘bad boy of rugby’ on Twitter today,” Jason explains.

  “That sounds about right.” Erin sniffs then turns to me. “Are you ready for the vetting?”

  Sophie lifts an eyebrow. “That’s an abrupt change of subject, Erin.”

  She shrugs. “I get enough of rugby at work. I don’t need it when I’m off the clock.”

  “Fair call, babe.” Sophie looks my way. “What’s Seth really like? He seemed like your perfect match on the dating app.”

  “Oh, he’s great. I’ll be amazed if we spot any red flags,” I reply with a broad grin. “Thanks for finding him for me.”

  “You’re welcome,” Sophie replies. “It’s all part of the No More Bad Dates service.”

  Jason cocks an eyebrow. “Really? You’re matchmaking now?”

  “Only for Darce, right, Erin?” Sophie replies.

  Erin nods. “Darcy’s first two guys weren’t up to scratch, so we stepped in to save the day.”

  “You’re both very confident about this,” Jason says.

  Sophie shrugs. “Maybe this is what we should have been doing all along? I feel like I could be a good matchmaker.”

  “Yes!” Erin says with glee. “We could hire ourselves out. We could make millions! Well, maybe not millions. I’m not really sure how lucrative matchmaking is.”

  “How about we start with Darcy and see where it takes us?” Sophie offers.

  Erin nods. “Good plan, partner.”

  Sophie places her hand on Erin’s shoulder. “And don’t forget, we need to find you a good guy, too.”

  Erin sighs. “Don’t remind me. All of you will be married with six kids between you before I find someone to date.”

  “Babe, you work with oodles of men every day. You’ve got a smorgasbord to choose from,” I say. Erin’s surrounded by hot, buff, sporty guys all day, every day.

  “I’ve told you, I don’t want to date a jock,” Erin says.