Unmatchable

by Sky Corgan

  It's a reminder that people are different online. There's less of a filter between the brain and the fingers. They become less human—tend to forget that they're interacting with someone who has thoughts and feelings.

  I try to blow it off, deciding to move on to the next email. This one is unsolicited and a lot more pleasant.

  BlazeGenie: Hi there. Cute dog. Is that a Shiba Inu?

  I click on her user name, expecting to be underwhelmed by her photo. While it's a dick thing to think, I am not expecting anyone who messages me first to be the least bit attractive, especially considering that I don't show my face in my profile picture. Well, the model doesn't show his face. More than likely, anyone who sends me an unsolicited email is going to be of the looks don't matter, overweight and wanting to be accepted variety.

  The picture that pops up, though, makes a breath of laughter pass my lips. You've got to be fucking kidding me.

  A shit-eating grin spreads across my face, and I relax back against my chair staring at the profile picture in front of me. I couldn't forget that face if I tried. Those large brown eyes. That smattering of freckles that makes her look far more adorable than vicious. That long, fiery auburn hair. When I was sitting in her office earlier, I just wanted to grab her by it, throw her over my lap, and give her a spanking for being such an unbelievable tyrant. I'm honestly not surprised that she's loveless. Pretty face. Horrible personality. Much like myself.

  I scroll through the rest of Ember's pictures, wanting to see her out of work attire. Holy boobs. It appears she doesn't own a single shirt that isn't low cut. Her cleavage goes on for miles. Just looking at it makes my dick swell.

  With an attitude like hers, I imagine she's a knockout in the sack. Not one of those lay there and do nothing type of girls. I bet she can ride it like she owns it.

  I lick my lips as I scroll through the pictures twice over. All of them are selfies, but they're all gorgeous. There's one where she's sitting in a chair, her head tilted to the side, the camera looking straight down at her breasts in a purple tank top. There's another where she's standing in front of a mirror wearing a floral cocktail dress. And a third that's just a head shot of her gazing up at the camera with an adorable smile plastered across her face. That picture, in particular, makes me curious about what it would be like to kiss her.

  “Well, this is interesting. What to do now?” I stroke my chin like a comic book villain.

  There are so many approaches I could take. If I weren't an asshole, I would just leave it. Delete the email like I never received it. Pretend that I never saw her profile.

  But I am an asshole, and that means I have to fuck with her, if only for a little while. She deserves it for what I'm sure she has put countless clients through.

  What to do? What to do? I tap my fingers together while thinking of a response. Part of me wants to keep her engaged, but another part of me just wants to have fun with this. Let's see how long I can keep her on the hook as I transition from normal to creepy.

  BoxPup: Thanks. His name is Box. He died two days ago. I made this profile in his memory.

  I snigger to myself, wondering how well my wierdo vibe got across.

  BlazeGenie: That's so sad. I'm sorry. It was sweet of you to name your profile after him.

  Wow. She actually has a heart. Who knew?

  BoxPup: It only seemed appropriate. I really love box.

  BlazeGenie: Do you have any other pets?

  She missed the sexual reference completely. Maybe she'll get this one. Gotta be careful. I don't want to chase her off just yet.

  BoxPup: No. I've been wanting a pussy, but I'm too lazy to go out and get one.

  BlazeGenie: You're not talking about a cat, are you?

  BoxPup: Of course, I am. Don't tell me you're a pervert! I've heard that dating sites are full of them. That's why I haven't used one up until now.

  BlazeGenie: No, I'm not a pervert. Is that why you don't have a face pic?

  I smirk.

  BoxPup: I don't have a face pic because I'm a bridge troll. Fucking hideous. If you saw my face, you'd turn to stone.

  BlazeGenie: I'm sure it's not that bad.

  BoxPup: It is. You have no idea. When I was born, the doctor took one look at me and tried to push me back in.

  BlazeGenie: :-/ I'm sure you're exaggerating.

  BoxPup: I'm not. The only reason he didn't is because I'm blessed in other areas.

  She doesn't respond. I wait for five minutes, keeping her profile open in one window. I hit refresh every minute or so to make sure that she's still logged on. Looks like I lost her already. Bummer. Oh well.

  Even though I've had my fun, I feel a strange need to get more responses. Knowing that I have so many women right at my fingertips is something that I've never felt before. Well, not like this. Going to a club and walking up to talk to a woman is easy. But this takes easy to an entirely new level. I don't even have to leave the comfort of my own home. Of course, that also means that the journey to get into a woman's pants is a lot more arduous. I can probably change that if I update my profile picture to something more alluring. While I still don't want to show my face, I am curious how many women I could net in with something else.

  I open the folder with my photos in it. With my actual photos. I modify a few of my shirtless ones to crop out my head and upload half a dozen of those to my profile. Then I shut down my laptop and go to bed, wondering what I'll manage to reel in tomorrow.

  ***

  I always get a rush when I sign the paperwork to take over a company. Even though every company I buy is thoroughly researched before I make the purchase, there's still the tiniest hint of the unknown. With this company, more than a lot of others. I'm still confident that I can make it work, though. That I can take what Freddie Montanez started and turn it into the most successful personal matchmaking service in all of Houston. Once I get the profits to where I need them to be, it will be time to expand—to branch out to other cities. Replicating successful businesses is another one of my specialties.

  Making money has always come easy to me. I wish I could say it was an innate gift, but I spent a lot of time in college learning the ins and outs of acquiring and managing various businesses. Wealth has always been my biggest aspiration. I've put accumulating it before everything else: my friends, my family, my social life. Some people—well, a lot of people, actually—would call me a workaholic. I'm fine with it. That's why I'm able to buy whatever I want. Go wherever I want. Do whatever I want. That's why I'm one of the richest guys in the city.

  After signing and finalizing all of the documents with Freddie Montanez and our lawyers, I head back to my office to put together my business plan for the new management team. Implementation will be a slow process at first. I've had a small glimpse of how the business runs on a day to day basis, but I want to take a month to observe it before making any drastic changes. See what works. See what's not working. Poll the current client base for feedback on the types of services they'd like to see provided. Sometimes, the greatest gems don't come from within the company. They come from the customers themselves. A smart business owner never overlooks customer feedback.

  That doesn't mean that I'm going to leave things completely unchanged, though. On Monday morning, Freddie will be stepping out, and my management team will be coming in to take his place. As of now, Freddie handles everything himself, which is probably why he's had such a hard time keeping his profits consistent. It's likely also the reason why he hasn't bothered firing some of the undesirables. Between managing HR, PR, sales, and his matchmaking team, the guy has to be overwhelmed. And when people are overwhelmed, they tend to make mistakes.

  I flip through the pile of paperwork on my desk, jotting down notes that I want to bring up at the meeting that I'll have with the new management team later. Then I fire up Full Heart Matchmaking Service's HR software and start looking at the details of the employees I want to get rid of. The two sales associates have worked there for less than six months,
so that shouldn't be much of an issue. To my surprise, when I bring up Ember Washington's file, it says she's been with the company for three years. Full Hearts Matchmaking Service has only been around for five years. Interestingly enough, the stagnation of the business started only six months after she began working there. I can't help but wonder if there's a direct correlation.

  I read through her file. What in the bloody hell?

  Before I even know what I'm doing, I'm picking up my cell phone to call Freddie Montanez. He answers on the second ring sounding oddly nervous.

  “Mister Larsen, is something wrong?”

  “No. I just have a question about one of your employees.”

  “Which one?”

  “A Miss Ember Washington.”

  “Ember. What about her?”

  “What's the deal with all of the promotions?”

  “Promotions?”

  “Yeah. She started as a sales associate. Then six months later you promoted her to a matchmaker. Then two months after that you created a new position for her. Client retainment associate.”

  “Is there something wrong with that? It's normal to promote good employees.”

  “Except for that she's doing the exact opposite of what her position should entail. She's not retaining clients. She's scaring them away. Purposely, from the looks of it.”

  He sighs. “I know that Ember is rough around the edges, but she's really a good girl.”

  The realization hits me that something else was probably going on between them. “You knew she was hurting your company, but you didn't fire her. Why?”

  “It's not what you think.”

  “Then what is it. If you were fucking her, I get it to a certain degree.”

  “I never laid a finger on her.” He suddenly gets defensive.

  “Then explain. Why keep someone like this on your team?”

  “She started as a sales associate, and she was doing fine. Since the company was still new and it had a high employee turnover due to the nature of the job, I promoted employees quickly into positions where I needed them. I was in desperate need of another matchmaker, so I promoted Ember since she was next in line for a promotion.

  “The problem was that she was a horrible matchmaker. I won't go into specifics, but clients complained about her. Some of them even canceled their memberships after an appointment with her. I knew I couldn't keep her in that position, but I didn't want to fire her because she's been through a lot.

  “I know you might not understand, but we're like a family at Full Hearts. All of my top sales associates and matchmakers have been with me since nearly the beginning. When you grow a business with people, you start to care about them. On a platonic level.

  “I decided to create the client retainment position for her. Up until that point, I had the matchmakers deal with their own clients if they became delinquent. Most of them, we could find an amicable solution for, but some clients were just impossible to work with. Clients who missed dates, violated our terms of service, or were unmatchable. Those clients get filtered to Ember.”

  “I take it you don't understand the definition of the word retainment.” I cock an eyebrow.

  “I'm well aware of the definition of the word, Mister Larsen. The position may not be named accurately, but it is a necessary position within the company. I assure you. No one wants to deal with delinquent clients, especially the ones who are unsalvageable. Ember doesn't mind doing the dirty work. Not many people could handle the level of stress that she experiences on a day to day basis.”

  “I'm eliminating her position,” my tone is deadpan.

  “Oh?”

  The line goes silent for a minute.

  “She's not my family, Mister Montanez, and she's probably one of the biggest reasons why your business has been suffering these past few years. You can't treat clients like trash and expect them to give you their hard-earned money. I realize that some clients have to go, but when I went through the files of clients who have passed through Miss Washington's office, I've seen opportunity in a lot of them.”

  “Sometimes, throwing out some low-quality grain with the chaff isn't that big of a deal.”

  “We can agree to disagree on that. Thank you for your time. I'll call again if I have more questions.”

  “So you're going to fire her?”

  “That's no longer any of your business.”

  He huffs. “I suppose it's not.”

  “Good day to you, Mister Montanez.”

  “Likewise.”

  I hang up the phone and lean back in my chair, staring at Ember's name. Freddie made it sound like they were awfully close. If they weren't, he probably just wanted to keep her around for eye candy. I've seen guys do it before. Men who care more about getting their rocks off to an unobtainable fantasy than the reality of what keeping that employee is doing to the business. It's easy to be blinded by a pretty face sometimes. I suppose I can't blame Freddie for wanting to keep Ember. He's not going to be in the office anymore, though, and neither am I. It's time for the company to start making money again, and for that to happen, I need to eliminate the bad seeds. Ember is definitely a bad seed.

  It's not until my last break of the day that I remember my online dating profile. While I know I should wait until I get home to check and see if I got any new messages, I can't fight the urge to log on.

  Not surprisingly, there are nearly a dozen new emails. Most of them are from random girls, but a few are responses from girls I emailed yesterday who wouldn't give me the time of day with the puppy pic. The one that stirs my curiosity the most though is a reply from Ember. I click on it to read what she sent me.

  BlazeGenie: When you said that the only reason he didn't push you back in was because you were blessed in other areas, I thought you meant something inappropriate.

  I smirk as I look at the green button next to her screen name that indicates she's online. Quickly, I check the HR software to see when her hours are. The little minx is at work, probably logged onto the app. Shame on her. Wracking up more bad employee points.

  BoxPup: Pervert! What's wrong with you, woman?

  BlazeGenie: Pervert? Me? Says the guy who is posting pictures of his chesticles everywhere. What happened to the dog? Did your remorse run dry, or was that story bullshit, because I'm starting to get the feeling that it was?

  Chesticles? I snort. This woman is hilarious.

  BoxPup: Admit it, you like my chesticles just as much as I like your chesticles. Don't think those pictures of your cleavage went unnoticed.

  BlazeGenie: ~eyeroll~ So you are a pervert. Congratulations, you had me fooled into thinking you were a nice guy. I guess that explains why none of your pictures show your face. You don't want anyone matching your ugly face to your ugly personality.

  BoxPup: In my defense, I told you I was a bridge troll. ;-)

  I glance down at the time. My break is up. I sign out of the dating website, wondering what amusingly harsh words Ember Washington might grace me with when I get home tonight.

  CHAPTER THREE

  EMBER

  Men are pigs. This asshat is definite proof.

  Why on God's green earth did I allow myself to be fooled into thinking that he might actually be a decent guy? The fact that he didn't show a picture of his face should have been the first clue that he was just out to fuck with people.

  I may have acted naive, but if he thinks I'm going to simply disappear without a fight, he's got another thing coming. My only weapons are my words, and I doubt they'll sting this guy at all. Trolls get off to riling up people. If I weren't so heated, I wouldn't bother responding at all. Even though I know this means he'll win, I just can't stand the idea of rolling over and submitting to a jerkface.

  Just as I'm about to type a seething response, he goes offline. How convenient. Running away, probably. I lie to myself and say that's why he logged off. Most likely, he's bored or at work.

  I irritably tap my desk, staring at the muscular naked torso of Mister BoxT
roll. These probably aren't even his real pictures. If they aren't, that will give me something else to bitch at him about.

  I go through his pictures one at a time and save them to my desktop. Then I open up Google image search and drag the first one into it. Immediately, I get a hit. My mouth falls agape and a cold shiver of disgust rolls down my spine. There's a head attached to these pictures, and it belongs to none other than the stuck-up client from yesterday, Alfred Barnes.

  To make sure I'm not imagining things, I check the next picture. Same guy. Next picture. Same guy.

  Is this motherfucker stalking me?

  While he's sexy as hell, the fact that he tracked me down online is creepy. This guy is a restraining order waiting to happen. And it will happen if he doesn't leave me alone. He would not be the first disgruntled client that I've had to call the cops on.

  I click on one of the pictures and am taken to a Facebook page. The name on the page doesn't match the man I'm looking at. Colton Larsen. It's probably a fake account.

  I go back through and click on the other pictures, but they all point to the same Facebook page.

  Confused and curious, I scroll through the information. Thankfully, the profile is public, so I can see a lot of the details. It says this guy is the CEO of The Larsen Corporation. He's twenty-nine years old and single. With over one thousand friends, I doubt the profile is fake. What in the hell is going on?

  Freddie pokes his head into my office and knocks on the door. Instantly, I lower my phone, hoping that he didn't catch me. Not like it matters. He doesn't care much what we do between clients, and I don't have one scheduled to come in for another hour.

  “Ember.” His expression is stoic, and I instantly get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Office meeting in the break room.” He gestures over his shoulder and then disappears.

  I deflate, glancing at the clock on my computer. It's rare that Freddie schedules meetings in the middle of the week. This must mean someone fucked up badly. He's probably going to address the issue with Mister Luis' botched background check. Freddie is good about calling everyone into a meeting to discuss one person's screw up. I suppose he sees it as a way not to single someone out. I think it's a bit pointless, though, when the issue doesn't relate to all of the departments.