by Adele Huxley
“You might as well put a photo of a doormat up as your profile picture. All these guys are seeing is a nice girl who wouldn’t slap a mosquito for biting her.”
I squinted at the phone as she held it out. “You took most of those photos!”
She tsked at me and slurped her soda dry through the straw. “It’s not how you look, it’s how you present yourself. Read your bio out to me,” she instructed as she tried to get the server’s attention.
“I have changed this a couple times, you know,” I replied.
“Read it.”
“‘Hey, I’m Talia. I’m a native Long Islander looking for fun. I like to read, hang out with friends, and meet new people. Swipe and say hi.’”
Anette cocked her head and blew me a long raspberry. “Booor-ring.”
“But that’s who I am!”
“Who you are won’t get you dick. Who you are will get you a boyfriend and maybe a husband someday, but not Grade-A quality dick.”
I hated to admit it, but she had a point. She took my silence as a hint that she was actually getting somewhere and pressed on.
“You gotta tap into that sultry, sexy, slutty version of yourself. Have fun with it. No one is completely themselves on these apps. They’re just a version they want to sell to the world.”
“I don’t know…”
“Okay, okay. I’m not trying to run things for you,” she added with a little edge. “I am a recovering puppet master but I completed the 12-step program and everything.”
“I know,” I sighed. “Fine. It’s not like my dating life has been going super great the way I’ve been doing it. Let’s see how you’d do.”
“Really? You’re gonna let Momma run things?”
“For a night!” I pointed.
“You gotta remember one thing. Dick is abundant and of low value. You are the precious commodity. You are the magic.”
I grinned, loving the strangely philosophical Anette. I leave for one weekend and all my friends start sounding like Plato. “Aww, are you sure you don’t want to try you and me…”
“Please stop. You’re gonna make me sick,” she winked.
A few months before Kevin dumped me, he’d taken me out shopping. Looking back, it was probably a way for him to ease the guilt of cheating on me. Even then, it was an odd thing for him to do, but when someone is waving around a credit card and offering to buy you anything, you don’t put up too much of a fight. Being the caring, wonderful, amazing girlfriend I was, I picked out a slinky little silver dress and insisted we both go out to a fancy meal together. I got the dress but never got the dinner. Every time I suggested we book a place, something always came up. I almost left the dress at home when I packed to move into the city, but a voice in the back of my head told me to bring it.
The bar opening was the perfect place to finally wear it.
Anette and I got ready together, shoving each other out of the way as we tried to put on makeup. We even Skyped with Lourdes for a while, which was a little bittersweet but mostly amazing. Isn’t technology wonderful? A friend three thousand miles away can tell you you’ve put on too much eyeliner in real time!
Even though she tried to hide it, Anette was a mess in the cab downtown. As we climbed out and approached the front door, she was actually trembling.
“Are you gonna be okay?” I whispered, shocked at how nervous she was. She must really like this girl…
“Yeah, I’m just so excited. I feel like… I don’t know. Like things are going to be different after this party, one way or another.”
My heart melted as I hooked arms with her. My little Anette was growing up. “This is gonna be a great night, I can feel it.”
The bar was clearly one of the hottest things in Manhattan that night. Anette and I were a few socio-economic rungs below the majority of the people inside. But, thanks to Lourdes’ fashion advice, we at least looked the part.
The space was deceptively huge, taking up the entire length of the huge building. A large horseshoe-shaped bar in the center of the room was the focal point, big enough I counted eight servers working. A massive LED lit staircase led down to a lower level. I imagined a labyrinth of decadence, little nooks and crannies where New York’s elite could finally get some privacy.
“Come on, let’s check out Amie’s stuff before finding her. I hope it isn’t shit,” Anette whispered.
She had absolutely nothing to worry about. Amie was one of five artists selected for the debut collection and her work was… erotic. Actually, it was far more erotic than you’d ever expect from such a soft-spoken woman. Most of her pieces were black and white photographs, nudes, zoomed way in. I stared at what I thought was a forearm for a good couple minutes before I realized it was a particularly smooth penis.
“God, there she is. There she is! Is she coming over? Shit, shit. Did she see me?” Anette panicked, turning away from Amie. I casually peered over her shoulder and shook my head.
“You’re all good. Actually, she looks pretty bored over there. You might want to go save her,” I nudged.
“Really? Crap. I look okay?” She smoothed her black top, the bottom showing off her toned stomach.
“You look incredible.”
“I’ll be right back, okay? I’m totally not abandoning you.” She gave me a hard kiss on the cheek and rubbed the lipstick off her thumb. “Wish me luck.”
I could tell within ten seconds she was totally abandoning me. The way Amie’s face lit up when Anette tapped her on the shoulder warmed every cynical cranny in my heart, of which there were many after dating for a few months. I resolved myself to mingling with the upper class for a night, hoping I could tap into that same frame of mind I’d found in L.A. Of course, I’d need a little booze to do that.
Or, a lot.
A couple hours later, the free cocktails were coursing through my system and I was feeling pretty good. I’m fairly certain I talked to a Kennedy, though I’m not sure which one. I’m not big into rap, but some guy named Five Nine Lite was there. I only saw him from a distance, surrounded by a dozen people all wearing sunglasses. After a little while, I stopped trying to fall into conversations and became a wallflower, content to watch the party go on without me. When else would I find myself at an event like this?
And that’s when I saw him. Standing almost a foot above most of the crowd, I spotted the back of someone’s head who looked a lot like Clint English. I inched forward through the crowd, my heart pounding a little with excitement. I heard him before I saw his face. Even without the visual confirmation, I’d recognize that accented voice anywhere.
“I’m not sure what you’ve heard exactly, but I promise they’re all lies.”
Fate had put Clint in my path yet again. From my angle, I couldn’t see who he was talking to, so I inched a bit closer making sure to keep to his back. Even as I ran through all the different ways I could announce my presence to him, my happiness in finding him was cut short.
As I pushed past the final group of people between us, Clint wrapped his long arm around the slender waist of a leggy brunette. She laughed at something he said and I froze. I stood there staring at the back of his head, blinking slowly. My brain froze as it tried to process a dozen different reactions at once. Thank God for automatic processes because I might’ve forgotten how to breathe.
Like a superhero without a cape, Anette swooped in from nowhere and pulled me away. “What are you doing?” she hissed in my ear.
“I… I just…”
“You were staring at that guy like you wanted to wear his skin or something.”
“Pffft, come on. No. That’s Clint. I don’t want to wear his skin.” I wanted it to come out reassuring, not even creepier, like I had other plans for his skin.
Anette squinted at him and gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. “That’s the English Muffin, isn’t it?”
I nodded, still unable to pull my eyes from him. Why was he here? And with a date? Why was I so upset he was here with a date?
“Okay, we need to go.”
“No!” I yelled, catching a few glares from people around us. I cleared my throat and smiled reassuringly at them, whispering as I continued. “I’m fine. I just want to say hello.”
Anette gave me long side-eye and shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a great idea, sweetie. Maybe we should get you a cab.”
“I’ll be professional. Professional! I just want to go and say hi. Professionally.” She continued to side-eye me so I added, “It’d be rude if I didn’t. I’ll come right back. I promise I won’t totally abandon you,” I said with a wink.
I didn’t wait for an answer and weaved through the crowd back to where he was standing.
I tapped him on the shoulder and slammed my hand on my hip. “Mr. English.” I could hear the slur in my voice, sounding far drunker than I felt. It didn’t matter. I could hold it together long enough to get my point across.
“Talia,” Clint breathed.
I couldn’t tell if he was happy to see me or not. Maybe he wasn’t even sure himself, but what I did next certainly changed our relationship forever.
I hope you enjoyed the sixth and penultimate installment of the Chronicles of a Serial Dater series! If you have a second, it’d be awesome if you could leave a review! And while you’re there, make sure to check out the next installments!
To make sure you don’t miss a thing, sign up to the Adele Huxley mailing list and get a steamy short story for free! I give away free books, novellas, send postcards to readers whenever I travel, play pick-the-plot… we have a good time!
As always, I love talking with readers. Feel free to Facebook message or email me! Seriously, I’ll chat about pretty much anything.
Thank you for reading,
Adele & Savan x
Book 1
Book 2
Book 3
Book 4
Book 5
Book 6
Book 7
