“Did what?” Madelyn asked, startled by Holly’s affronting tone. She was in the middle of pouring a liquid substance into the frying pan.
“Who peed all over my toilet seat?”
“Boys!” Madelyn said evenly, pointing the spatula at Alex. “Who did it?”
Emilio, who was sitting at the table awaiting his meal, grimaced. “It wasn’t me, Mom. It was Alex.”
Madelyn diverted her stare from the boys to add some chopped mushrooms into the frying pan. “I don’t want either of you ever going into Holly’s bathroom again, you got that? Ustedes dos están en la cuerda floja conmigo.”
It was evident to Holly why the boys were so out of control: Madelyn didn’t have the slightest clue about discipline. Either that or she really didn’t care. She was far too even-tempered, and that only infuriated Holly more.
“But, Mom!” Alex whined. He ceased playing with his action figures and stood up from the floor in protest. “Emilio was using your bathroom and I had to go real bad. I guess next time I’ll pee on the floor!”
“Young man, you’ll wait your turn or go outside in the bushes,” Madelyn said. "Alex, dejar de causar problemas.”
Emilio found his mother’s comment amusing. “Ha-ha! Alex has to piss in the bushes like a dog!”
“Shut up!” Alex retorted.
“Sorry, girl,” Madelyn said, putting the spatula down. “I’ll go clean it up right now.”
A short time later, Alex, Emilio, and Madelyn sat at the kitchen table, eating some egg concoction that stunk up the whole apartment.
Later that afternoon, Madelyn stopped by Holly’s bedroom for another visit.
“Hey girl, guess what?” She stood wrapped in a blanket and holding a cup of coffee.
“What is it, Madelyn?” Holly asked, none too enthused for the company.
“The boys are staying with their dad tonight and I have a date with this Middle Eastern guy I met a few months ago.”
Madelyn had gotten over her fascination with African-American men after she’d caught Morgan cheating on her. Now she had moved on to Middle Eastern fellas, and she dated them in large quantities, no matter their caliber. From what Madelyn had told her, Holly could only assume she was going through losers left and right. Case and point, the last Middle Eastern man Madelyn had dated had literally charmed the pants off her. After two dates, Madelyn was sure he was “the one,” until she came across his Facebook page and discovered he was married.
Holly kept her focus on her computer screen, and continued typing. A couple by-invitation-only (BIO) mixers were scheduled the following week and she had her work cut out for her. Somehow, she managed to hear Madelyn and fake an interest in her pathetic excuse for a love life. “Oh? What’s this one’s name?”
“Mohammed. I met him at the boys’ school,” she said as she sat down on Holly’s bed and took a sip of coffee. “He’s nothing like Sudesh.”
Madelyn’s last serious boyfriend had been ten years younger than she was and a total creep. Sadly, being reckless and naïve had left Madelyn blinded to reality. The majority of their adventures involved having sex, getting high, smoking hookah, or any combination of the three. The only so-called date he ever took her on was a trip to a burger joint in Temecula, where she ended up footing the bill. Holly knew all too well that women like Madelyn, with low self-esteem, would easily settle for anyone who looked in their direction.
“He just moved here from Iran and he’s really sweet.”
Holly picked up a couple of headshots off her desk and looked them over. “Well, that’s what matter’s the most, right?”
Madelyn propped herself up higher on the bed and sat crossed-legged. “Unfortunately, he doesn’t have a car, so I have to go pick him up in San Diego.”
In Holly’s world, a grown man who lacked an automobile was a deal-breaker, but she’d learned long ago not to waste her breath voicing her opinion to Madelyn; the girl would never listen. Madelyn thought she had it all figured out and had no idea how clueless she really was.
“He actually pays for dinner and drinks when we go out.”
Whoa! Say it ain’t so! Any woman with common sense and the smallest shred of self-respect would realize that’s what normal, decent men do on dates.
“The first time we went out, he literally paid for everything. Can you believe that? It kinda made me feel bad, so I’m gonna offer to pay half this time,” Madelyn continued.
What the hell? Who in her right mind would offer to go Dutch if…oh, never mind. Look who I’m talking to. “Mm-hmm. Well, I hope you have fun.”
Madelyn sprang off the bed and twirled around in a circle like a little girl. In reality, she was just that—a teenage girl stuck in a thirty-two-year old body. “I just wanna fall in love with a kind, generous man,” she said.
“Well, I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
Madelyn laid her hands on Holly’s shoulders and shook her playfully. “Girl, make me a member of your club so you can set me up with someone good.”
Unfortunately, for Madelyn, Holly didn’t enlist bottom-of-the-barrel women who were clueless in life and love. Women like Madelyn had the power to put her out of business real fast.
“Sorry, honey, but unless you’ve got $10,000 dollars to fork over, I just can’t.”
***
Monday morning, Emma and Chris were eagerly anticipating Holly’s arrival. It was new client day and they had some surprises in store for her. This usually consisted of Chris and Emma sitting in a conference room with a potential new client and videotaping the entire interview. Holly would then review the interview and decide if she wanted to meet with the millionairesses or not.
“So…what have you got for me today?” Holly asked Emma as soon as she walked through the door.
Emma spun around in her seat. “I’ve got Jackie Meyer, thirty, a fashion model from Beverly Hills.”
Holly took a seat on top of Chris’s desk as Emma got up and ambled on over to a small television and inserted a DVD into the player. She clicked play on the remote, and within seconds, a stunning blonde with sharp features and pale blue eyes appeared on the screen.
“Hi. My name is Jackie Meyer. I’m thirty-years old, originally from Nashville, Tennessee.”
“A little country bumpkin, eh?” Holly said, grinning. “What a cutie.”
“These days, I live in Beverly Hills and work as a fashion model. You may have seen me in the pages of Vogue or any type of other high-fashion magazine. I’ve been modeling since I was thirteen and now I think I’m at the right age to find Mr. Right. Lately, all I’ve been coming across are a whole slew of Mr. Wrongs. I just want a man with a good head on his shoulders, someone who will treat me like a lady. I’ve been having a really hard time finding that here in LA. Honestly, many guys seem intimidated by me, maybe because I’m six-feet tall.
“Holy hell!” Holly said, taken aback.
“Yeah, she’s got legs for miles,” Chris said. “She towers over me.”
“I’m a pretty simple girl, aside from all the traveling and where I live. I’d say I’m pretty down-to-Earth. I’m not materialistic or anything like that, a real meat-and-potatoes woman. I just want to meet someone who wants something serious and is not just about getting laid.”
After the interview ended, Holly smiled again. “We’ll find someone for that one, I’m sure.”
“Well, she’s so gorgeous and sweet, it shouldn’t be a problem,” Emma replied.
“The hard part is finding the right guy,” Holly said. “Who’s next?”
“We’ve got Sabrina Hoffman from Brentwood,” Chris chimed in, pressing play on the remote.
“Hi. My name is Sabrina Hoffman. I’m forty-seven, but most people never guess that. They usually think I’m in my late twenties.”
Holly stared at the woman on the screen. She had long brown hair and lips the size of sausages. “Oh my God.” She slapped her hand across her knee. “Another one of these, Chris? Seriously? I’m sorry to say, but
she looks her age and lay off the collagen, honey.”
“I’ve been divorced for about four years, and I have three teenage boys. I’m also a clothing designer, model, host, chef, actress—”
“Are you freaking kidding me?” Holly asked.
Emma got a rise out of Holly’s reaction and with a giggle said, “Wait… it gets better.”
“I’m a rare breed of woman. I can tell you right now there is no one else out there like me, and I think I deserve the best man money can find.”
Holly put her finger down her throat and gagged.
“I was married for twenty-five years, but my ex couldn’t handle the magnitude of my success or my vibrant personality. The only good thing that came out of our marriage were my three stunningly beautiful children. Since my divorce, I’ve traveled all over the world, and it would be really nice to travel with someone who can add something brilliant and sparkling to my already fabulous life. My only requirement is that he be just as fabulous as me.”
“God! Who does this woman think she is?” Holly asked.
Chris thought for a moment and then answered, “You heard her. She’s a model, actress, chef, host—”
“Ha! Very funny.” Holly pushed Chris playfully and hopped off his desk. “Well, it looks like I’m off to visit Jackie the farmer’s daughter and Sabrina the tyrant.”
***
Holly pulled up to a mansion with high black wrought-iron fencing and one of those circular driveways with gravel instead of pavement. In the middle of the driveway was a fancy fountain, gushing water into a perfectly blue pond. The entrance reminded her of some suave hotel.
Holly knocked on the rich mahogany door that was fitted with glass from top to bottom.
A moment later, the tall blonde from the video greeted her. “Hi, Holly. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Jackie. C’mon in.” The southern sweetheart was dressed in a long, floral-print, spaghetti-strap sundress that showed off her tan shoulders and cleavage.
“You have such a lovely home,” Holly mentioned.
The house was spacious, with oriental décor and lots of light flooding through the bay windows.
Jackie led Holly through the foyer, which was framed by two wide curving staircases. The living room looked like a centerfold in a home design magazine, sunny and cheerfully decorated with lots of foliage and fresh-cut flowers. The throw pillows on the couch were plump and symmetrical, and new issues of fashion magazines were fanned out perfectly on the coffee table.
“I’ve only been here about six months. I’m still trying to get settled in,” Jackie said, taking a seat on the plush sofa that probably cost more than Holly’s first car. “Please—have a seat.”
Holly sat down across from her in a gorgeous wingback chair and said, “Well you’re off to a great start.”
“Oh, would you like anything to drink?”
“No. I’m fine, thanks.” She opened her client notebook and scanned her notes. “Let’s get straight to it, shall we? Tell me again why you decided to come to me.”
“Well, I’m obviously looking for something serious.”
“All right, but let me ask you something so I can get a better picture of what you want.” Holly pulled her reading glasses out of her purse and slipped them on. “If you could pick one guy in Hollywood to go on a date with, who would it be?”
“Hmm. That’s a tough one.” Jackie looked down into her lap. “I’d say…maybe Aaron Eckhart.”
“So you like the rugged, manly man, type?”
“Yes.”
“Is it more about looks, brains or money to you?”
“I’m a huge fan of the total package,” she said with a grin.
Holly smiled back at her. “Aren’t we all? But if you had to pick one trait, which one would you choose?”
“I guess I’d have to say brains. There are a lot of good-looking rich guys around here who don’t have much going on in the old hayloft, if ya know what I mean.”
Holly laughed, finding the woman’s country charm endearing. “That goes for a lot of women as well,” Holly said. “When was your last relationship and how long did it last?”
“We were together for two-years.” Jackie slipped a strand of golden blonde hair behind a pierced ear. “We broke up over a year ago.”
Holly couldn’t imagine living in such an enormous house all alone, and in spite of the girl’s obvious fortune, she almost felt sorry for her.
“Well, if I can be frank, I like you. I think you’re adorable.” Holly laid a comforting hand on Jackie’s leg. “I’m actually very surprised that you haven’t been snatched up yet.”
Jackie blushed and fanned her face with her hand, as if she might actually cry. “Gee, thanks. Like I said, I haven’t met any quality men in a while, and even when I do, they seem to be scared off. Too many of them think I’m some kind of Amazon woman who will bully them around, but that’s not like me at all.”
“Don’t worry. You’ve come to the right place. I know I can help you.”
“That’s great! How do we get started?”
“Well first, we’ll hold a recruiting session for your potential dates. I will screen every single suitor to make sure they are a worthy match for you. Those who pass my tests and trials will be invited to the by-invitation-only mixer, and you can choose the one you’d like to go on a date with. On the day of the date, you will be wired.”
“Wired? Do you mean like caffeine wired?” she asked with a slight chuckle.
“No, I mean literally wired. You will be wearing a small, almost invisible speaker and a tiny ear bud. Throughout the date, until you feel comfortable enough to handle things on your own, I will be able to hear your conversation so I can coach you along the way.”
“I’ve never heard of anybody doing anything like that, other than for drug busts in one of those cop movies.”
“Well, wire-tapping isn’t just for the bad guys! That’s why people pay me the big bucks, girl. This club is in a class all its own, and we’re willing to go above and beyond to help you find your Mr. Right.”
Jackie laughed, finally letting her guard down. “I guess that’s good to know.”
“Well, I’m going to get going now. I have to meet with another client, but we’ll touch base.”
***
Next, Holly made the dreaded drive to meet with Sabrina Hoffman. She pulled up to the typical million-dollar Brentwood home, a giant three-story colonial that looked more like a museum than a house.
“Hello, Holly,” Sabrina said, ushering her through the doorway.
Sabrina Hoffman had maintained an excellent figure by undergoing liposuction every year since her thirty-fifth birthday. She was squeezed into a painted-on yellow dress with an overlay of white eyelet and leather sandals. The skin on her face was so tightly stretched that she resembled something out of a Frankenstein movie, though no one—especially her very wealthy plastic surgeon—would dare to tell her she’d overdone it a bit. Holly wondered what the woman must have looked like before she’d decided to go under the knife. Truthfully, Sabrina’s face was the mirror image of Holly’s unpleasant dreams.
The first thing Holly noticed when she stepped inside, besides her client’s patchwork face and ridiculously tight dress, was how immaculately clean the house was. Everything was furnished pristinely in white and did not look the least bit lived-in. Holly spotted a maid dusting and another mopping the foyer. She realized at that moment that Sabrina was the type who paid others to beautify every aspect of her life, from her glass tabletops, to her thick lips that would have made a carp jealous.
They both took a seat on black bar stools at the kitchen counter. Holly whipped out her handy-dandy notebook and said, “Obviously, Sabrina, you know why I’m here. Can you start by telling me exactly what—or who—you’re looking for?”
“First and foremost, I need a man who’s well off,” Sabrina replied.
“So…money’s more important to you than love?”
“No. I want both. Also, he’
ll have to be able to deal with my tight schedule and lifestyle. I’m a very busy and important person.”
“If you are so busy, how do you intend to make time to nurture a relationship?”
“I’m more than willing to squeeze him in if he is a good fit,” she said.
Like you squeezed those thighs into that poor fabric, Holly mused to herself.
Sabrina’s cell phone rang and she answered it, right in the middle of their conversation. “Hello? I will not do the movie for a meager $15,000. That’s pocket change! Does he even know who I am? Well, tell him I’m in a meeting right now. I’ll call you back.”
“Excuse me,” Holly said, tossing her notebook down on the counter and pointing a threatening finger at Sabrina. “It is extremely impolite and unprofessional to answer the phone when you’re in the middle of a meeting. My time is valuable, and I will not be disrespected like that. You got it?”
“I apologize, but it was critical that I answer that call. As I told you, I lead a busy and very demanding life.”
“I don’t care if the Pope calls. I won’t have my time interrupted. How’s that for demanding?”
“All right, all right. I understand.” Sabrina then had the audacity to glance at her watch, a ridiculously unnecessary bauble that probably cost enough to feed a Third World village for a year. “So… where were we? We’ll have to make this snappy. I have to be at a fashion show this afternoon to debut my latest clothing line.”
Holly sighed. “Sabrina, let me give you a little word of advice. If you want to succeed in my club, you’re going to have to get off your high horse and accept that you are not God’s gift to men. Men don’t just want to see the body— they also want to know what’s under the hood. It seems to me you’re in desperate need of a tune-up, honey.”
Sabrina raised her eyebrows and snapped back, “Hey! First of all, I’m not like that. I don’t know where you get off saying something that’s so untrue.”
“Sabrina,” Holly snapped, just about fed up with the woman’s immature and self-righteous behavior, “if you want my help, you need to pay attention to what I am telling you and let me do my job.”
The Experiment Page 5