Hare Today, Bear Tomorrow (Mating Call Dating Agency #1)(5)
“I didn’t say serial killer. I wouldn’t take one of those. But just a regular murderer? I gotta be honest with you. The thing that dissuades me about the serial guys is the trophies they take. Gross.”
When there was no response on the other end, Garnet suddenly felt like maybe her sense of humor had crossed a line from clever into horrifying. “Uh, sorry,” she added sheepishly. “I tend to make jokes when I’m nervous.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Eve said. “But the first part of the Mating Call Dating Agency’s mission statement is that we will never hook anyone up with a murderer. What happens after the hookup, though, we can’t guarantee.”
Garnet meant to respond, but instead just sat there with her mouth open for a moment before she realized that was a joke. “Ha! Ha-ha!” she let out. “That was a joke.”
“And that wasn’t a question,” Eve added. “But anyway, sorry to bother you, I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time. Although from the way you’re talking, I doubt I have.”
“I was just putting ketchup packets in the fridge,” Garnet answered.
“Huh.”
“It’s an old habit. My grandma taught me to do it from living through the Depression. She also taught me to hoard creamed corn but thankfully I couldn’t ever stomach that stuff.”
“I’m learning a whole lot right now,” Eve said, kindness in her voice. “Listen, I’m sorry to be short with you, but,” she trailed off momentarily, trying to figure out how to explain that there was a professional wrestler in her office with a winning smile, eyes that could disarm a statue, and who was willing to pay a lot for someone just like he described.
And as luck—or whatever—would have it, Garnet Pendleton’s file had been sitting in the depths of Eve’s file cabinet for a lot longer than she normally took to make a match. It was just that most people were looking for someone with a steady job, or someone who wanted to settle down. It was a rare thing that someone actually requested a woman who wanted some spice and adventure in life.
“Your file says that you want a guy who is fun, handsome, blah-blah-blah. Honestly everyone that walks in the door says that stuff. But you also said, and here’s the key, that you wanted someone a little off center.”
Garnet thought about that choice of words for a moment. Freelance journalists are nothing if not analytical. “Off center? You’re trying to get me to date an attempted murderer, aren’t you?” She laughed, but in the back of her mind, she wondered if that were actually true, and if it were, if that would be a game changer.
“No murderers,” Eve said. “We consider criminal backgrounds, and only match people with dates that have a like amount of felonies.”
“I don’t know whether you’re joking or not,” Garnet said. “Because if you are, you’ve mastered dead pan comedy. Assuming you’re not, that’s actually really impressive.”
“Our name is Mating Call, isn’t it?” Eve decided to leave that particular question open to interpretation. “But in this case, no felonies. Hell, not even a misdemeanor. He was arrested on accident one time when his opponent really sold a chair shot.”
The total lack of laughter gave Garnet the idea that whether or not the older woman was being entirely honest, it was definitely an interesting story. “Chair shot? What’s that mean?”
“Uh,” Eve trailed off. “Listen, this is really out of the ordinary, and I’m sorry for doing it this way, but the guy we’ve picked for you is sitting in the office. And to be honest, he can explain it a lot better than I can, because honestly I can’t explain it at all.”
Arching her eyebrow in a silent question, Garnet let out an inquisitive humming sound. “This is weird,” she finally said.
“Yes, it is,” Eve admitted, obviously not terribly happy about it. “But listen, this guy is really a catch. I can find someone else if you want, and I’d totally understand, given the odd circumstances, but—“
“No,” Garnet cut in. Her journalistic moxie was running at an all-time high. Even if this turned out to be weird, well, what the hell: a story is worth some pain if it’s good enough, right? “I want to meet him. Er, talk to him, or whatever. Do you mean a chair shot like in pro-wrestling?”
“Uh,” Eve clicked her teeth. “I think I better let you talk to him. He’s... yeah. Listen, honey,” she said as an aside, “he might have a slightly odd job, but I have never seen shoulders like his.”
In the distance, Garnet thought she could make out the sound of someone with a very, very deep voice, and someone with a much higher pitched one, laughing. “Is that him?”
“He’s got my assistant in stitches. And you know Dora isn’t one to get all giggly.”
Garnet had initially found out about the agency because of Eve’s assistant. During one of her late night shelving marathons at the White Lake Public Library, she’d accidentally spilled the beans to one of the regulars about her dire romantic straits. As luck would have it, that regular turned out to be the very assistant that Eve was talking about.
Ever since Garnet moved to White Lake four years earlier, she’d been a loner. Not a Unabomber sort of loner, just the sort of loner that writers tend to be. She spent her free time, what little there was of it, either reading or watching old gangster movies. In her line of work, there wasn’t any time for playing around, and there certainly wasn’t any room for someone that was going to want her to sit at home and get dinner ready.