Chapter 1 - Dating Agency?
Dressing up never felt so good! Looking in the short mirror by the front door, I’m feelin’ myself. I have my hair full and curly like nature intended. My makeup has cat eyes to match my red sultry dress. It’s mulberry silk with a tapered fitting top and flowing ruffles on the bottom that make me look voluptuous.
Smiling, I do a little twirl watching the light reflect in my chandelier earrings. They look like crystals but they were on sale, for only five dollars. My hands finger the side stitches to check if they are holding up since the mirror doesn’t let me see that far. I sewed it myself several years ago and as long as the stitches hold well, no one will know it’s handmade. I can’t afford to go out or buy nice things. I live off of charity and exhaustion. The thought makes me sigh.
“Where is my phone?” my friend Amanda is getting ready in the other room. She walks out holding her purse while looking through it. She has lighter skin than me and her beautiful silk green dress extenuates her body type. The fabric is brilliant and I couldn’t pull it off with my olive skin. We’re both top heavy queens, with plump but small asses, but we know our worth doesn’t rely on that.
I laugh as she swerves into the couch, too busy looking in her purse, “Oh, here it is!”
“What’s wrong, babe?” She looks up in the mirror and checks her lipstick.
“I’m just trying to prepare myself. Fingers crossed that they’re decent.”
“Babe, I know, I know. I just want to go out and have fun. They should be chill, I’ve been talking to Kyle for a few weeks now and he seems alright.”
Everything I do feels like a charade. Like I’m an impostor. What do I want? Adventure and a man to sweep me off my feet with a love that sets me on fire. Do I also want to quit my terrible underpaying job? Yap. Draw and paint whatever I feel like without ever wondering if I can pay rent this month? Yeah, no prob’.
I shut my eyes, and rest my forehead against the mirror. Resisting the overwhelming anxiety and bottling up those feelings. I’m too much of a daydreamer. That’s my problem. I mean some guys are truly terrible. But I haven’t found the one because I read too many books. It’s me. I’m the problem—or, so my other friends tell me. And tonight, I’m going to believe them. I will put on my best face for this date and try to be logical and rational about the expectations of men. Eww.
Watching my reflection I practice a fake smile to mimic being invested in my date before I open the door.
And now—I regret it.
We’re seated at this new swanky club, the boys have put us in VIP, the music is a whole vibe, we’re seated with our prospective dates, and mine is telling me booktok is making it hard for ‘good guys’ like him.
“It’s just unreasonable, the standards. I mean, why would any mafia boss, vampire—or whatever the fuck you read about— want some rando girl? What is she contributing other than a big gyatt and a pretty face?” he looks to the side, his eyebrows furrowed while he takes a swig of his mixed cocktail.
“She don’t even need a face either, I’ll hit from the back.” He smirks to himself, seemingly unaware of my eye roll as he looks into the distance. I don’t need to look over my shoulder to know he’s watching the group of sorority girls at the next table.
The fake smile plastered on my face is cracking and I sip champagne to hide my groan as he leans in. “So—you’re telling me, that you inherited a bookstore from your grandparents? But you still work part-time somewhere else?”
My friend and I look at each other. I sigh. Why did I think it was a good idea to tell him anything personal?
“Bookstore must not be doing a lot of business if you need to keep working. I mean, who really reads anymore? It takes too much time. I like that tiktik gives me info but only like five seconds.”
I bite back my response that his education is lacking. The bookstore may not be doing super well, but at least I can live in the apartment upstairs. Sure the building is old and since my cat won’t hunt, the bugs have become my roommates, but it’s home. As long as it runs any positive income, I don’t need to pay to live. It just can’t go negative.
“I bet that’s not the only thing that lasts 5 seconds,” one of us says under our breath, I think it was me. Oops.
“What?” he asks with lowered eyes that are still clouded with his internal thoughts. It’s like he heard what I said but he didn’t quite believe his ears.
“I mean, I kinda agree with him, I’m just learning about this booktok. Ya’ll are beautiful, but—I mean—you still need us. Look where we are right now,” his friend says.
Amanda and I exchange a glance again. The rubbery pleather feels uncomfortable and sticks to my legs as I adjust.
“Yeah, look where we put you,” both of them have similar expressions, waiting for us to answer such an obvious, misdirecting question. They are both very attractive and it is clear they work out. They appear well dressed with slacks and button-up shirts, gold watches, and their hair slicked back.
Chester is my date, and hers is Kyle. They aren’t 10’s but they have lean bodies and a combination of blond hair/blue eyes. Cute. Just not incredible. Certainly not cute enough to ignore what’s coming out of their mouths.
“How you like it? We treat you well, right?” Kyle says with satisfaction, he adjusts himself in the chair to lean back more and spread his legs out. One of the staff comes over with four shots and sets them on the table.
“Look, Charles-” my friend starts.
“-Chester,” he corrects.
I can tell from her expression she knew what his name was. My love for her grew in that moment because she knows how to get under their skin and mess with them in the best low-key retaliation. This is gonna be good.
“Whatever,” she makes a face while readjusting forward. “Strong beautiful women like us have choices, and one of them is to be single. You guys-what makes you upset-is that you’re never single by choice. If you spent more time looking inward than outward you could be one of the few guys that women compete for.”
We pivot to each other as if we know each other’s thoughts and clink our drinks together, taking two shots. “Love you bestie!”
“Love you too,” we blow kisses at each other, big smiles on our faces, and then take the last two shots.
When I steal a glance at our dates, they look disgruntled and at a loss for words. Before they can try to counteract with hostility, I take her hand.
“We’re gonna go dance-gentlemen,” I accentuate the word to emphasize what they aren’t.
And off we go, laughing. The only lighting is directly above the couches, as we leave we’re blanketed in shadows. The intimacy of the dark with great music to jive with makes us feel good.
Some guys try to cut in and talk to me. “No, sorry, this is my date here, she’s mine,” I tell him. We hold each other’s hand as we walk away. We start feeling the alcohol and grind with each other. When we pass close to a table, someone leans over and pats my arm gently.
“I heard what that guy was saying to you. I think you’re going to like the Book Boyfriend Dating Agency.”
“Wait, what?” I ask, still jiving to the music, the lights are swirling and I don’t care how much I’ve drank. I barely glance at them next to me. Strangely, I don’t feel any red flags that this stranger is talking to me.
“The Book Boyfriend Agency. You’re going to love it. You’re perfect for it.”
“That sounds made up. How can a book boyfriend be real?”
“I promise you, it’s real,” the person hands me a black card.
Their face is a blur because I’m focused on the card. It’s completely black, and the short plastic corners are heavy on my fingertips as I feel the ridges and turn the card over. The only words on it, also in black, are ‘Book Boyfriend Dating Agency’.
“Even if I say I want a panty-dropping gorgeous, Genie, to pop out of nowhere and grant my three wishes—in bed?”
The biggest smile breaks across their face before they nod. “Especially that.” Their features are lost to the shadows of the club as the music changes and more people get up to dance, crowding our space with laughter and fun.
“Wait, how did you know all that?”
When I look back at them, the person is gone but their promise lingers giving me a strange feeling of anticipation. The lights shift again and the DJ riles up the crowd. My head is spinning from this new revelation-or maybe the liquor-and I walk to a nearby table.
“Girl-ll, you wouldn’t believe the ass on that man—wait, you good?”
My friend is next to me, her hand on my arm to steady me. “You look like you had too much. Now that the dusty is gone.” I laugh with her. That’s what we call men like that, or should I say, boys. The phrase is from one of our favorite tiktik influencers.
We finish the night and get back home late, having accomplished a great night out like we wanted. I kept the card because that person’s words resonated with me. A book boyfriend dating agency? If it’s true, I would love to find out. Maybe there’s hope for my dating life.
