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“They do not look like that!” Jay protested indignantly.
“I’m just saying… they kind of fucking do.”
Jay flipped him off with both birds. “Sure. You win this bet and I’ll go on whatever date you arrange with someone ugly and we’ll see if we hit it off.”
“You’re such a dick. How do you want to help people so badly when you can’t even help yourself?”
Jay was all out of birds. He was all out of snappy comebacks and as he stormed out of Alex’s office, he swore that he heard the guy mutter something about having no fucking idea.
CHAPTER 3
Muffy
Greasy wasn’t her idea of an ideal date, but then again, the whole beggars couldn’t be choosers thing definitely applied. She was definitely a beggar.
Although, when “Pat” walked in dressed in an ill-fitting suit that looked and smelled like it rolled straight out of the back of a trashcan, she had her doubts.
Two minutes into the date she’d agreed to because by some miracle, “Pat” had a decent profile and some pictures that looked nothing like he did in person (and for real, people said only women pulled that crap), Muffy was having second thoughts.
“So, darling, what’s your name?” Pat, if that was even his name, drawled out in a Texas twine. Muffy was pretty sure he damn well wasn’t from Texas or anywhere close.
“Uh- Muffy.” Fuck. She was too honest. She’d completely forgotten about using a fake name.
She winced when she watched Pat’s face changed. He was a good six days past needing a shave and she swore there was some old food stuck in the stubble right below his left ear. The particles were incredibly suspicious. She couldn’t stop staring at them. She wondered, absently, if Pat shaved his balls, then wanted to kill Carla for putting that thought into her head. She wouldn’t mind killing Carla in general, for making her go out on this date. She’d been so sure that Pat was a nice guy, and handsome. Yes, she’d actually used the word.
While Pat turned redder and redder, obviously trying not to laugh, Muffy thought about all the ways she could murder her BFF and get away with it. But because she didn’t watch enough detective shows or homicide movies or read enough thrillers, she could only come up with two viable options and both of them involved the popcorn maker.
Yup, Carla would definitely not appreciate it if she crashed the bathroom and threw the maker, plugged into an extension cord, into the bath with her. She’d definitely deserve it though, because now Pat was cracking up and his laugh sounded like the wheeze of a dying donkey and spittle was spraying out all over his stubble, and yes, there was definitely corn and toast crumbs below his ear.
Pat was also a good forty pounds heavier than his photos online and a whole lot greasier. Like he’d just taken a bath in deep fryer oil because he actually enjoyed smelling like old onion rings.
Muffy did her best not to gag as a wave of rancid onion ring breath hit her straight in the face.
“Muffy? Like the real muff? Like muff munchers? Like a dirty old muff? A big seventies-style muff? Oh god. That’s a good one. Made my night. You’re a funny lady. I like funny ladies.”
Dear God, strike me down now. Muffy looked towards the ceiling of the family-style restaurant, but unfortunately, no lightning bolts streaked downwards, ready to smite her where she sat.
She glanced around frantically, searching the run-down two-star establishment for a server to save her from her misery. Unfortunately, none was forthcoming. The place was only half full, but a few crying kids and demanding couples were all the two waitresses working the entire place, could handle.
“Just for you, I can be Rico. From- from Latin America. I can give you a really good massage. Be your grease monkey. You’re tall. I would oil you up and climb you like a tree.” Pat licked his lips frantically, staring at her like he was imagining running that slimy looking tongue all over her body.
Holy fucking shit, Carla is a dead woman.
Muffy shoved back her chair. “You know, I forgot. I- uh- I- have to go get groceries. For my grandma. She called right- uh- this afternoon and I promised I’d get her those cabbage rolls she likes because she’s my granny and I love her and I could never disappoint her and I completely forgot, so yeah, I have to go. Right now. Like… Right. Now.”
She didn’t wait for an answer, she rushed towards the front door. She thanked her lucky damn stars that she’d insisted on driving herself to the date because you never could be too safe and online dating was dicey at best.
In her haste, she didn’t realize that the door pulled out and didn’t push. She ran smack dab into the heavy glass and nearly bounced back. She swayed, saved herself from falling on her ass by a split second and by some universal mercy looking out for her, managed to right herself. She didn’t glance around to see who might have seen. She actually didn’t give two flying shits who witnessed it. Just as long as she got the hell out of there.
