"It sounds like you're about to throw me a curve ball," I say. My nerves are still in knots but there's a sickening sense of impending doom in the mix now.
"Well, it depends, we haven't decided yet."
The bastard sounds like he's enjoying torturing me.
"Well you just got started. Raven told me it usually takes a couple of months before a team makes a decision so I wasn't expecting that yet." I finally feel ready to enjoy some of the beer I ordered 20 minutes ago.
"No, I mean, we haven't decided if we're going to keep you in the loop or not." Don says it to the TV and grins while he does. He really is enjoying this. I had no idea my brother in law was such a sadistic jackass, I'm starting to rethink my previous endorsement of him.
"What do you mean?" I'm genuinely lost about what he's saying, but man, do I have a bad feeling about what he's about to tell me.
"I mean," he turns back to me, "that we have the choice of talking to you about the girls we interview and keeping you informed of our thoughts and preferences along the way or zipping our lips and letting you sweat."
Shit.
I know these guys.
They are going to fucking torture me.
I down my beer in one gulp and gesture for another.
This better be the easiest fucking decision these guys have ever made.
I don't care if it takes 2 days or 2 years-- it's going to feel like 20 years and I'll probably snap before I meet my future wife.
I should have put Mom on the team. Mom would never let the guys do this to me. Mom's always got my back.
I give Don a warning glare, hoping he gets the impression that not keeping me informed along the way is a bad idea.
He gives me another grin that doesn't give away his thoughts.
"I told you, bro, we haven't decided yet. Chill."
Don proceeds to "chill," and I proceed to start a mental list of ways to kill my team members.
Whatever they decide to do, the final phase has begun.
And all I can do is wait.
Maybe having other people pick your wife isn't the easy way out after all.
Courtney
"But honey," Mom's voice is muffled on the line and I know she's holding her phone against her face while she cooks dinner instead of just putting me on speaker, "Raven needs another team member. She says she asked for a third name weeks ago."
"Yeah, Mom, I know, that's what I'm telling you though."
I've been sorting through my in box all day. I still haven't caught up on the end of year stuff and the paperwork for the new year is starting to pile up now.
"I can't think of anyone else-- unless you want to use Dad?"
I've gone through this stack at least 7 times and I still can't find the purchase order I've been looking for since 3 this afternoon. Which is why I'm still down at the office at 7 in the evening.
"Oh heavens, honey, Daddy says this is woman's stuff. He doesn't even understand what we're up to. He thinks we're playing some new type of online game or something."
First I snort-laugh. Then an idea of how a game of that sort might work instantly forms in my head and for a split second I imagine inventing an app that becomes the newest social media viral sensation. Then it vanishes just as instantly as I frown at learning how clueless my father is.
"He really doesn't get it?" I ask, genuinely concerned. "Have you explained it to him, Mom? Or are you doing that thing where you only give him the information you want him to have so you can manipulate him into being on your side?"
My mother makes a derisive snorting sound in my ear. I can tell she's not pleased with my accusation. But it's totally true. I've watched Mom do it for years to Dad.
"I do not manipulate your father," she scolds, "I protect him from getting overly involved in things that would just upset him."
We both laugh. She knows she does it, just like we also both know that Dad plays dumb when she does. Maybe when you've been together as long as they have, you learn to trust each other like that.
"Court, honey, you know I sat your father down in the very beginning and tried to explain it in detail. I just wanted his opinion on whether or not he thought this was a good idea and if I should help you or not."
Mom must have a hand free now, because I can understand her clearly as she rattles on.
"He thought I was making a big to-do out of nothing. He read Mrs. Swann's emails and pointed out that you're not signing any contracts that state that you are required to marry anyone and vice versa.
"He says you have a good head on your shoulders and if Kelly and I pick the wrong man for you, you'll give him the heave ho and never let us live it down.
"I reckoned he was right and he told me to have fun finding my new son-in-law."
"Great Mom, tell Daddy thank you, but I need you to find some one to help you and Kelly so Raven has a full team to work with."
"I don't understand why you don't just have one of your friends there in town do it?" I can hear Mom chopping something against the big, wooden butcher block on the kitchen island.
"I'm not close enough to anyone else here, Mom."
"What about your co-workers?"
I stifle the urge to sigh heavily in exasperation.
I grew up in a small town where everyone knows everyone else. Mom doesn't understand that every co-worker does not become a life long friend here. Or that every girlfriend you've ever mentioned hanging out with, isn't necessarily a real friend.
Heck, I've been going to yoga classes with the same group of girls for 3 years now and I'm not sure I could say which ones are married or what their kids names are.
And it's the same with me. I have a wide social group in the city, but very few friends. Everyone that really knows anything about me and my family is back home. Which is why I'm telling Mom to find someone she trusts to help her with all the interviews and research she has to do for my match-maker.
"Mom, just pick someone to help you out. Besides, I know it's going to be a lot of work and if Dad doesn't want to help then you need someone you can go over everything with because I know Kelly isn't going to be available every minute of the day when you have a question or a thought pops into your head."
"Well if Kelly isn't going to be able to help me--"
I cut her off before she can get too far down that road. "Mom, Kelly is 100 percent on board with the process," I assure her, keeping the "now that she's talked to Raven" to myself, "but she's 200 miles away from you and she has a full time job where she can't have her cell phone on her.
"I know you, Mom. You need a friend you can talk to about this the whole time. So pick someone who actually knows me and can help you, not just gossip with you. That's all I'm saying."
"Well maybe Elizabeth Cantrell could do it?" Mom throws out my middle school English teacher's name like she's asking my permission to include her.
I guess that's not the direction I was expecting her to go in and I must make a noise that doesn't sound entirely supportive.
"Or what about Nancy Anton?" she quickly redirects.
Mrs. Anton must be about 108 now, is what flies to my mind at the mention of my Girl Scout leader's name.
"Just tell me who you want then," Mom sounds impatient.
"I don't know, Mom. Just pick somebody. I don't care. Just someone who knows me and will take this seriously."
"What about--"
Again, I cut my mother off mid-sentence. I'm losing patience, I still haven't found the client file I need, I want to go home, and this conversation is giving me a panic attack.
"Don't tell me, just pick someone. I have to go, Mom. I love you."
I make a kissing noise into the phone and end the call in a hurry. Then I hold the phone in my hand, staring at the screen and daring it to ring. It's not unlike my mother to immediately call back if I get off the phone too fast just to make sure the call didn't get dropped.
The phone remains silent and after a minute I slip it into my purse, gather my personal thin
gs, and prepare to get the hell out of the office finally.
Of course, that's when I spot the file I need sticking out from the bottom of a stack of totally unrelated papers.
Well. At least I found it, I think as I place it on top of my desk so it's front and center in the morning. I'm too mentally exhausted from spending the last week trying to find another team member to handle one more thing tonight.
Which is exactly why Kelly calls me as I'm warming up the car after locking up the office.
"OH MY GOD! DID RAVEN CALL YET?!" My friend's voice squeals in my ear, jarring me from my daze and scaring the hell out of me.
"What? Raven? Who? No." None of my response makes sense, but then, neither does her question. Why would Raven call me? And why would Kelly be so excited about it?
"I got the first set of files today!"
Files? "Huh?" I ask absently as I place the call on Bluetooth and put the car in gear. "What files?"
"For your matches, Court," her voice comes down a notch, but only a notch. She's so excited I can hear her bouncing.
"What do you mean?"
There's a part of my brain that understands what she's talking about, but it refuses to believe it because it's all out of context.
For one thing, even though Raven and Jessica managed to make a complete convert out of my bestie, she hasn't really been excited about this. Kelly is a public defender for the DA's office and she's been approaching my arranged marriage like one of her cases-- seriously and with a lot of careful attention to the details.
The Kelly that's practically singing at me over the phone right now sounds like drunk-on-spring-break Kelly from our junior year in college. When she was head over heels with a Mexican bartender for 4 days.
Plus, Raven's assistant, Jessica, has been on my ass to round out my team with a third member. I didn't expect anything to get started until I did that.
"You got matches already?" I ask, dumbfounded.
"Courtney Barnes, Earth to Courtney Barnes, could you please come to the courtesy telephone in the lobby?"
"No really," I don't acknowledge her teasing me, "Raven sent matches already?"
"Yep. This is so cool, Court! I am so glad you talked me into doing this, like, this is really going to be fun," she tells me, sounding a little more sophisticated and a little less sophomoric.
Now I'm worried though. "Fun?" I just have to make sure I'm hearing her right, "Did you say this is going to be fun?"
Kelly laughs, mostly casually but I think I hear a touch of sadism in there too, "I got 5 profiles in an email at 3:45 this afternoon," she says, "of course, I didn't check that email until after work, so I've only had a couple of hours to look through them."
"And?" I don't know what she's supposed to tell me and I don't know what she will tell me.
"And, it's very promising so far. I really like the way Raven put the cases together and her notes are very concise. It really streamlines the process."
Who cares about streamlining? I want to scream at her to give me details on the guys! Send me pictures! Don't just talk to me about Raven's stupid notes! Ugh.
Somehow I manage to keep from freaking out and maneuver my car into my parking spot in the underground garage at my complex.
"Well that sounds great," I tell her sarcastically, "I'm happy to hear that my fancy marriage broker meets your standards for professional presentation. Are you going to tell me about the guys or not?" It's not exactly screaming, but if Kelly can't tell I'm about to explode from anticipation, she's an idiot.
"No can do," she clams up, "Not till we get down to the final candidates. I just wanted to check in on you and let you know that the first round of options has been distributed. Did you find another team member yet?"
"I put Mom on it," The exhaustion hits me hard as the adrenaline subsides. I look up at the final flight of stairs to my 3rd floor apartment and wonder how I'm going to make it.
"K, I'll call Mom then," Kelly sounds bouncy again.
The bouncier she gets, the more tired I feel.
"Just don't tell me anything until you can tell me something, got it?" It's a warning that goes unheeded-- of course.
"Courtney," her voice actually goes kinda dreamy, "this is way different than I expected. These profiles are amazing. This one guy seems perfect already and I've only read the first page of his bio."
"First page?" Jeeze, she makes it sound like the file is huge and then I think about all the questions I had to answer just for the application. "How long are the files?"
Kelly gets quiet for a second and I know she's looking through them.
"The pdf files are all at least 120 pages," she finally reports.
A hundred and twenty pages on each guy? And she's saying this is the first 5 profiles that they have to look at. There could be more?
"I thought she was only going to send you 3 choices?" I ask.
"No," Kelly's much calmer now, still kinda giddy, but calmer, "she sends us as many profiles as she thinks are candidates. We go through and evaluate them, fill out her questions for each one and then she and Jessica narrow it down to the final 3. And then the real fun begins."
I swear I can practically hear her rubbing her hands together in anticipation. It sort of makes me wonder if I picked the right person for this job after all?
I also wonder if Mom can handle the pressure.
I also wonder...I tell Kelly good night and put my phone on the charger...if I really have what it takes to let someone else make this decision for me.
I guess I thought it was going to be easier.
Blake
Another month and still no word.
The guys won't even talk to me about it.
When the first round of profiles went out to them, they were all having fun teasing me and dropping little hints about the girls they were sorting through for me.
A few weeks ago, they all clammed up. Every one of them.
Even Randy's keeping his lips sealed.
If I mention Raven or getting married or talk about what kind of wife I'm looking forward to at all, they'll just change the subject like I never said a damn word.
I switch the calendar in the office at the shop over to March.
It's a pretty sweet Chevy with a wicked paint job from a guy I know down in Florida. I guess I don't mind looking at that for the next 31 days.
The cherry red Sting Ray from February is hard to say good bye to, but February is dead and gone. Along with another Valentine's Day as a bachelor.
A V-Day I was hoping to spend getting to know the woman I'm going to be married to by the end of the year.
Raven says we're right on track. Everything's going smoothly and my team is taking things seriously and doing a great job. But I can't get an ETA from her on when I might expect to meet my bride to be.
Nothing I can do but keep on keeping on.
I straighten a few things on my desk and take out the trash in the office.
Travis's desk is the same way I left it last week when I dropped a new stack of invoices on top of it. The guy hasn't been around at all lately.
While I thumb through the invoices I think back on our last conversation. Travis is burned out on the customs business and he's looking to retire.
He didn't need to tell me that, it's pretty easy to figure out from the way he's been avoiding the shop lately. Leaving me to take care of the crew, the customers, and now the paperwork too.
Might as well enter these into the system and keep us caught up on the books before I have to pull an all nighter before the end of the quarter.
I sit back down at my own desk with the papers and open up our shop software.
Naturally, it picks now to install some update, so while it does that in the background, I surf through my usual Internet haunts, starting with my personal email.
Not like I didn't check it from my phone about half an hour ago, but it's sort of a habit when I'm waiting for the computer to do something so I open it up anyway, not really exp
ecting anything new.
Nothing new of any interest anyway. There's a ton of the usual spam that ought to be caught by the filter, just like there's always a ton of important stuff in my spam folder. I always wonder why email programs get my shit so wrong?
I delete some generic sales pitches and some newsletters that I do subscribe to but-- fuck! Why do these companies think I need 4 emails from them a day?
My hand moves the mouse on the pad a little bit and my finger hovers over the button, ready to delete the next email in the in box when I see the sender's name and stop cold.
Raven Swann.
The email subject says, "Good News! Match Pending."
"Match Pending?" What the fuck does that mean?
I stare at the subject line for a long time, trying to think of all the possible interpretations and not really considering that the obvious thing to do is to open the email and find out.
Eventually I snap out of it and open it up.
It's actually from Raven's assistant, Jessica, and it's short and too the point:
"Dear Mr. McAllistar,
I just wanted to give you an update on your case.
Your team has selected a preliminary match.
We are now waiting to find out if the match is reciprocal.
Someone from our office will be in touch shortly to discuss the next step.
~Jessica"
"Reciprocal?"
That is a fancy ass word for "does she like me too?" Or rather, does her team like me too?
And there's still no point in asking the guys what this girl is like because they still won't tell me shit.
Maybe I don't want to know yet anyway? I mean, why get my hopes up about their first choice when there's still a chance this other team won't pick me?
Forgetting all about entering the invoices, I exit out of my email and shut down the computer altogether, grab my shit, and get the fuck out of the shop.
Tonight seems like a good night to hit the gym. Work off some extra energy, think about whether I want to buy Travis out of his portion of the shop before he runs it into the ground or just go out on my own and build from the ground up...and hope I wear myself out enough to get some sleep so I don't stay up all night wondering who my almost future wife is.
A New Resolution: A Modern Match-Maker Romance Page 4