Twelve Tiny Truths Read online

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  Copyright 2017 M. Dauphin / H.Q. Frost

  Cover design © 2017 Inked Imprints

  CHARLIE

  TEN YEARS AGO

  "Shit, my tits are freezing!" I wrap my scarf around me once more and shuffle behind Frankie as we make our way up to the massive house at the end of the drive.

  Winters in New York aren't something to mess around with. We're lucky everything isn't frozen over enough to send us slipping and sliding back down this enormous driveway. I knew when I said I wanted to go to school here it got cold, but this is insane!

  "Come on, woman!" Latching onto my arm, she huffs and pulls me behind her. "We can't be late."

  "Late for what? It's just a party, Frankie!" I shout as we open the door to pumping music, flashing lights, and about a hundred people on this level alone. Good Lord, whose house is this? Frankie told me it'd be a great time, but this looks chaotic!

  "I just need to grab something." She shoves her hat in her purse and grins at me.

  "What? Grab what? You're here for something? I thought we were here to party?" I blurt.

  "We are. After I grab this. Come on, I don't want to lose you." She pulls me up two flights of stairs and to the back of the house before stopping in front of a closed door. "It'll be just a minute. You can wait out here."

  "You fucking dragged me here for a drug deal?!" I shriek and she slaps her hand over my mouth, looking around frantically.

  "I'm regretting it right about now, trust me." She rolls her eyes and I shove her hand away.

  "This is such a bad idea, Frankie. Can't you get this shit from Markie at work?"

  "Pot. Not the better shit. Now just wait here. I'll be right back."

  "Frankie come on—" Her finger on my lips shuts me up and I roll my eyes at her grin.

  "It'll be fine, Charlie. Promise." With a wink she opens the door, leaving me in the hallway.

  Good God, I can't handle this. If we get caught and she screws up my medical career I'm fucked and might as well be working at the dollar store the rest of my life! Shit!

  Maybe I should go downstairs. If I go downstairs at least I won't be mixed up in this if it goes bad.

  "Fuck," I huff, kicking the door across the hall. Someone from inside yells at the noise and I cringe.

  What the hell am I doing here?!

  Luckily she walks out of the room at that moment, stone faced, minus a small crack of a grin.

  "What'd you get?" I ask eagerly from behind her. Now that the nerves are settled and she's out of that room I'm actually enjoying the rush of doing something out of my ordinary.

  "Stuff." She grins and shrugs.

  "Was it weird walking in there?" I whisper, stopping her on the staircase as we head back down toward the raging party.

  "Not really. There were like four people in there. Three of them had their backs turned the entire time so I only got face-time with one girl. They were all packing though. Scared the hell out of me." She lets out a nervous laugh. "Let's go home and enjoy this." Her eyebrows wiggle and she starts her trek down the stairs again.

  "Wait, can we go to jail for this?" I hiss, following behind. My logical self is starting to worry this was a terrible idea. "I can't go to jail, Frankie!"

  She doesn't have time to answer. One minute I'm excited for the possibility of something new and thrilling and dangerous, the next I can't hear myself think over the noise. Everything happens so fast there's barely time to react.

  The gunshots.

  The screaming.

  My ears start ringing and everything around me blurs as people begin scrambling like fleeing roaches.

  A crowd from upstairs comes barreling down the steps right toward us at the same time a mob tries running up. We're trapped.

  They're relentless and even though we're fighting through the crowd that's somehow formed on the stairs, we can't move as they start shoving their way past us. Frankie's screams and scrambling hands as the crowds push us are the last thing I remember that night. Everything else is a blur.

  That night, my entire world changed.

  "You don't think he seems a little…lame?" Frankie's voice from the other room makes me roll my eyes. She can't ever stay in one place. She's always moving and buzzing around, keeping busy. I guess it's a good thing I have her. She's been the hands-on one in this business. Going out there and pushing into people's lives is how this whole thing got started anyway. Well, that and a shortage of anything better to choose from with our lack of college educations.

  "He sounds like a gentleman!" I rewind the video and listen to the most recent applicant again.

  'Hey uh…name's Joe. I go by...uh…Joe. I'd love to meet someone that uh…just wants to hang out. Ya know? Not a big sportsman. I don't do outside things, but I can Netflix and chill—'

  Frankie's maniacal laughter roars through the building and I end the recording when I hear her approach.

  "That dude's never getting laid, Charlie." Her footsteps end behind me and my chair scoots back but I stay focused on the job, pretending to ignore her negativity.

  "It's not about sex, Frankie, it's about the connection. He just needs to work on his game. Isn't that what we're here for, anyway? To help these types of people find true love?"

  She sighs and lets out a groan. "It is. But he's just so…"

  "Don't say it," I warn.

  "So fucking weird." She deadpans.

  "You're weird. Go back to work. I'm trying to get my job done so you can do yours." After taking note of the man's name and emailing it to her to add him to the site, I skip to the next file and hit play, hoping this guy won't need as much…help, to put it nicely. This is what we do. Day in and day out, we review clients and find them their happily ever after.

  Blind Date is a dating site that Frankie and I have owned for a few years now and we're rapidly growing in popularity. With competitive pricing and well over three-quarters of our matches ending in happy marriages, we're on track to become one of the top five dating sites in the country. Just as soon as this new expansion outside of our current Oregon only territory takes off.

  I get asked all the time how I ended up here- stuck in the middle of nowhere, connecting love matches and yet still living in a one bedroom apartment, just me and my dog, Gus. I just smile and tell them life has a weird way of slapping me across the face and telling me to calm my tits. Being almost thirty, I'm expected to be married, or at least taken, living in a big house with a cute little family. I prefer my long hours devoted to the thing I love right now. My job.

  Being at that party ten years ago changed me. Everything that happened after it shaped my life into what it is now, whether it be good or bad. This is who I am.

  My parents forced me to mo
ve home after that, and since they were paying for me to attend school I didn't have much of a choice when they pulled funding. Their little girl wasn't about to get into that 'lifestyle.' Drugs. Parties. Danger. They don't understand that wasn't who I was back then and it was a fluke thing. Sure I liked to party, but never the type of things they thought. All they saw were the drugs and alcohol and forced me back home immediately.

  I was a straight A student at Cornell University. I was top of my class and on top of the world. My life dream was to be able to help the less than fortunate medically in any way I could. I wanted to travel the world. I wanted to help people. Some of the people in my class were in it for the money, others were in it because it's what their parents wanted. I was in it because I had the brains for it and I wanted to be a good force in a world full of bad people. I had already began planning my year abroad, traveling to third world countries where their medical care is less than stellar. Needless to say, none of that happened. Moving back to Portland squashed those dreams. My parents were adamant that I'd attend a local university if I wanted to go back to school, but I never had that drive after everything was said and done.

  Kevin's knock on the door interrupts my study of this man I've been listening to on repeat. "Babe, you need me to email you the contract for the radio add in Nevada?"

  "Fuck! Yes, please. Sorry," I huff, rubbing my eyes and sliding my hands down my face. "God, this is so exhausting some days."

  "But you're perfect for this, Charlie. How many people have you successfully matched over the years? Hundreds. Probably damn near close to a thousand by now. So whatever you're doing is working."

  "Go away, Kevin," I grumble. When he laughs and walks away, I yell after him, "I love you!" earning a grumbled 'love your ass' in return.

  'Kevin the Intern' as we call him, started here as an intern because we needed someone with more technology knowledge than we had yet. Now, I can run the website just fine, but cell phones and I don't get along too well at times so that's Kevin's forte. Cellphone/tablet apps. He found us when he was writing a human studies paper; he worked his ass off here, unpaid, for an entire semester of college. He aced that paper and we had awesome help for a while. When he graduated, Frankie and I didn't want to see him go so we hired him on as our tech guy. Now he's helping with the expansion of the company and I don't know where we'd be without him. He's like a little brother to us (though he hates when we call him that) and I am thankful every day that he's here to keep us in line.

  The rest of the afternoon is spent reviewing one clip after another. Most of these men know how to put on a good show and put their best face forward for their short video clips, but by the end of the day I think I've heard every pickup line possible. There has only been a couple men I've swooned over in this business, but that's not saying the rest are creepers. It's just that most of them try way too hard to 'get the girl.' Just be your damn self. That's all I ask. Be honest, be true, and be yourself. It's easier to place you with the right partner that way, because that guy's going to come out eventually.

  My mom texts at some point in the afternoon, reminding me of dinner Sunday night and I can't help but smile. As much as I hated them forcing me to move back here, I don't blame them. Parents aren't supposed to be your friend, they're supposed to be on the lookout for your best interests. Staying in New York after what happened wasn't in my best interest. It's taken me some time, but I know that now.

  "Yes, mom. You know we wouldn't miss it. Love you." I say into the microphone before sending. Talk to text rocks most of the time. Other times it makes my life so much harder than it already is.

  Now that I'm an adult I feel like I have a better relationship with my parents than I ever did growing up. I wasn't rebellious, per se, but I also didn't like people telling me what to do.

  My freedom was taken away from me because of that party. I'm just now slowly gaining it back.

  "You ready?" Frankie knocks on the door just as I'm exiting out of my work program for the day.

  "Yep." I shut down the computers and grab my purse from the hook by our office door before locking up behind me.

  Thank God she came when she did. I couldn't take another profile admittance today. It's great we have so many people interested, but there are some days that I get an entire batch of helpless, as I call them. Listening to one guy after another that needs a lot of help in this dating game is boring as sin sometimes. I love my job, I do, but some days, especially after long restless nights, I wish I could just get in bed and stay there.

  "Hey, what would you say to me trying a new way to gain more men to the site? We're overloaded with females right now. We need more dudes." I slide into the passenger seat of Frankie's car and immediately buckle. She's known to take off before my door's even closed.

  "What do you have in mind?" Her tone is leery but I'm used to it. She's always like this; overly cautious when it comes to anything new in my life.

  Frankie's my closest friend, but it wasn't always like that. I met her when I was away at college; we both worked at the dollar store. At first sight I hated her. She was a hardened bitch! She still is in a way. She'd do anything at all back then, but it came at a price and only if she liked you.

  After that party though, we both changed. That's to be expected, I guess with what we went through in the following months.

  My parents moved me home as soon as I could travel, and on the same flight was Frankie, holding my hand and reassuring me things were going to be fine. She hasn't left my side since. She blames herself for the party that night. According to her, if it wasn't for her we'd have never been there, and she's right. But we may have. I got around back then. I had a huge group of friends that I'd go out with every time I wasn't cramming for school, and they were at that party. Had I not been with Frankie, I probably would have been with someone else. Fate just has a way of making things happen, and that night I was meant to be there.

  Once I finally moved out of my parents' house Frankie and I tried living together, but she's too 'in your face' for me. I need space. So she moved into the apartment directly across the hall from mine… Of course.

  The way our building is setup it's just our two doors in our hallway. Mine on the left, hers on the right. She spends most of her time in my living room or kitchen… Honestly, I think she's here more than not, but at least we have our separate spaces, and if I need to be alone for a bit, she gets it.

  "Obviously this is strictly limited to our Portland clientele, but…I think maybe I should start taking them out on dates. More of an in-person interview."

  "Oh, Charlie, you know that's no—"

  "I'm not done! Stop babying me, Frankie," I grumble, climbing out of the car when she parks in our spot. I slam the door and head for the building not getting far before she runs up next to me and links our arms.

  "Sorry, go on."

  "I just think that being in person with someone, it's easier to tell who they are and how they're going to react in real life situations. Videos are so hard to judge because they're setting it up to make themselves look like Superman or something."

  "You want to sit down and interview these men? In public?" The skepticism in her voice as we climb the stairs makes me smile.

  "You don't think I can do it?" I open my door and she walks past me, heading into my apartment. "Make yourself at home, please." I set my purse on the counter and head to the sink, instinctively reaching for my glass that's not there. "Frankie, where's my glass?" I blurt. "It's not where I leave it every day. Where is it?"

  "Ooo, yeah, sorry, I used it this morning." She brushes past me and reaches into the cupboard. "Here. Nice, clean new glass."

  "Don't do that. I have at least twenty glasses you can use. Don't use my favorite glass," I grumble.

  "I know, I know. I didn't think about it. We were in a hurry. Anyway, about this face-to-face interview, I think it'd be awkward as hell, Charlie. I mean…what? You tell these guys you want to interview them on a date?"

  "No
. I accept the date. We both know I get asked out enough." I smirk back at her.

  "And yet you never take any of them up on it. Can we talk about that?"

  "No." I pick up Gus who's currently running circles around my ankles. "Anyway. I go on said date with him, then when I tell him I'm not available, I hand him our business card and try to get him to commit to the site so we can set him up with someone perfect."

  "So you lie to him?"

  "Not really. I'm eventually going to find someone awesome for him."

  "It's fucking weird."

  "Is that the phrase of the day?" I head to the couch and tuck my feet under me as I sit in my favorite spot and Gus makes himself comfortable on my lap.

  "Hey!" she calls from down the hall. "You really need to tell the landlord about this light in the hall. I can call him for you," she sings and I roll my eyes.

  "No," I state with finality. "I'll tell him. I just keep forgetting."

  A few minutes later, rustling in the kitchen makes me shake my head, and like usual, Gus pops up then runs to the sound of the fridge opening. "You don't have anything to eat."

  "I need to grocery shop." I huff and lay my head back on the couch, tired as hell.

  "We need fooooood," Frankie whines.

  "Order pizza. I'll pay." Begrudgingly, I slide my feet across the floor toward my purse and slide my credit card from its slot in my wallet. Holding it out, I wait, and wait…and wait. "Take it!" I bark, then plaster on a smile to soften my demand.

  "I think you bought last time." Her hesitance while she takes my card makes me huff before heading to my bedroom to change.

  "Soft and comfy clooooothes! I'm coming for you!" I sing, pushing open my bedroom door. Frankie calls me a few choice names from the kitchen, mainly about being a bum, but I choose to ignore her.

  Leggings. Check! Thick socks? I mean, it's summer, but CHECK! Twelve-year-old soft as sin t-shirt? CHECK!

  "I ordered meat lovers. And breadsticks. And soda."

  "And one of everything else on the menu?" I laugh, throwing my hair onto the top of my head and securing it with a clip.