At least I think that’s what she said.
I could see she’d dislocated her shoulder.
I hated to watch a woman cry so I went into the bathroom and got her a hand towel and bent down and gave it to her. That jaw looked broken all right.
“I got one question for you, Carol,” I said.
I could see our near future then clear as the Sarasota night. The hospital, the explanations, probably the cops. The flight back to New York with the passengers and flight attendants all looking at us like gee, what a terrible awful shame, it must have been an awful wreck, I wonder if anybody else survived? Then the breakup, the tears, the inevitable parting of ways.
“Whussat?” she said. I had to ask.
“Didja come?”
SECUREDATE.COM
by Boyd E. Harris
Melanie crossed her legs under her tailored suit and said, “You know, we’re not really an online dating service anymore. So much is done in-person now that SD has developed into a hybrid of sorts. Think of it as having the best of both worlds. Personalized service from field experts and the non-intrusive benefits of first meeting your prospects online. So are you nervous?”
“Yes.” Patrice’s voice was frail, her demeanor the same.
“It’s a significant step to take.” Melanie leaned forward a little. “I was divorced three years ago myself. It took a while, but I made it back to dating six months later. I subscribed to Securedate.com and remember how nervous I was in the interview. But here I am, engaged to be married to a wonderful man.” She paused, noticing Patrice wanting to ask something.
“How many dates will it take?” Patrice managed.
“It depends on your compatibility, and after each new date, we will know a little more about you. Our state of the art security design does a background check on every member, every week. And just recently we installed a new program that actually analyzes every potential match you might have.
“We call it ‘Agent Cupid’. We’ve hired the best programmers and the best researchers around to implement this program.”
Patrice crumpled her brows together. “Agent Cupid?”
“Yes. It analyzes all available information on potential clients, starting with your legal history. We won’t have any ex-cons or pedophiles sneaking through our gate.” She snickered to emphasize how ridiculous the thought was. “It does a credit check, an employment check and it even analyzes your tax records. It checks marriage history, and even past living arrangements.”
Patrice nodded.
Melanie continued, “Nothing gets by Agent Cupid. And we’re constantly doing things to improve his arsenal of information gathering abilities. Even this morning, our engineers are installing software that will pull up not only statewide, but national records.” She grinned. “You’re not wanted for grand theft auto in Arizona, are you?”
Patrice, becoming a little more comfortable, smiled and shook her head.
“Well then you qualify. We’ll put you into the Securedate exclusive power search membership right away.” Melanie stood up. “Follow me.”
Patrice apprehensively held up her forefinger and asked, “Melanie, how much will it cost?”
Melanie sat back down. “Patrice…” She paused for effect. “Think about the attorney costs in your divorce, and how your ex drained your accounts before you knew he was cheating.”
Patrice raised her head in surprise. “How could you know all that?”
The answer came with a tone of surprise from the question. “Agent Cupid.” Melanie moved over to the sofa and seated herself next to Patrice. She put one arm around her and held a box of tissue in front of her with the other.
“Thank you,” Patrice said as she pulled one from the container.
“Patrice dear, we are not cheap. The initial membership is $4,500. Every first date is $1,500…”
Patrice blew her pink, irritated nose. It had been tender for over a year.
Melanie completed her close, “But you know that these fees pale in comparison to the costs you’ll incur if you end up with another creep like your ex-husband.”
Patrice held the tissue on her nose and covered most of her face to sponge the fresh tears. Then she nodded.
AT 330 POUNDS, AND sporting a pasty bald spot on the pinnacle of his upper forehead, Drake Drebbins’s appearance wasn’t exactly a strong point. He preferred working out of home, but currently he was installing and testing new software.
Today was a tough one. The system was having hiccups. From his custom built chair, he cursed the program. “Damn script errors…! Script error, script error, script error!” The system was temporarily frozen, so he decided to take management his progress report the old fashioned way.
He stepped into the hallway and spotted Melanie in the lounge. The girl sitting with her was astonishing. A perfect mix of beauty and innocence. Drake tilted his head a little, a sweat mustache beading along his upper lip. His deep, hollow breathing sped up. He quivered as the two women got up and approached him.
Melanie stopped and said, “Oh Patrice, meet Drake. He’s our wizard behind Agent Cupid.”
Patrice smiled. “Hi Drake.”
Drake’s head went hot. Through heavy gasps, he managed, “Hello.”
Then the two women continued toward Melanie’s office and Drake fell back into the room and collapsed in his custom chair. The progress report would wait.
AGENT CUPID HAD LIFE, and Drake smiled. Like any detective, the critical task was to filter out the unnecessary data and to make sense of what remained. Drake had complete access to the company system from his apartment, and he’d recently stuffed away his collection of Marvel comics to study Patrice Giddings and the men she spoke with. Making sure his software was ready to protect women like her had become his new fixation.
An instant message from Agent Cupid distracted him. “Patrice is important to you.”
Drake clicked his response. “Yes, I want to tell her that I love her.”
AC > “Not a good idea.”
Drake > “I know.”
AC > “She is vulnerable, though. I’ll keep an eye on her.”
Drake > “Thanks.”
AFTER A FINAL DIAGNOSTIC, Drake concluded that the system was operating perfectly. Agent Cupid was armed with a new weapon, nationwide cognizance. Securedate.com now had access to vital records from any state.
Instead of celebrating with the others, Drake raced out of the office. He set his abundant posterior on the custom built, extra wide seat of his turbo moped, with its custom pink paint job. His rolls of skin dangled from his arms as he grabbed the handle bars. The moped roared to life and he sped from the parking lot into the hazy and ominous Iscariot Falls city night.
DRAKE COULDN’T BELIEVE HIS eyes. He stared into the screen, reading a copy of Leighton Witherspoon’s marriage certificate. Cupid had done a careful study in Florida and had found only this, no divorce decree.
Tonight Patrice would have her first date, and it would be with this man.
Cupid’s message to Drake appeared. “He lied on his application, said he was divorced.”
Drake pounded back, “I knew it. He’s smooth-talked her.”
AC > “Lied to her.”
Drake wiped his massive forearm over his drenched face, droplets of sweat flinging onto the desk. Witherspoon had promised Patrice a surprise restaurant for dinner. Drake was in a panic. His pupils swelled.
AC > “He’s going to destroy her.”
Drake > “She needs help before that happens!”