Chapter 4
Joshua
I got out of my BMW on Monday morning and tried to figure out why it always seemed like it was raining in this city. I was starting to wish that I had moved to San Diego, when suddenly the tiny sprinkle above transformed into a massive downpour. “Shit!” I was soaked in a matter of seconds. I hustled to the front door. I could already feel the water inside my brand new shoes, and I wanted to roar as I barreled into the building.
As soon as I got inside, I tripped on the entry carpet. The movement made me lose my grip on my cup, and I spilled coffee all over my suit. Christopher rounded the corner, dry and happy, waving a pastry at me. “Cheerio!”
“I’ll show you Cheerio,” I grumbled, flipping him off.
“Only in your dreams,” he said with another wave.
Getting wet was one thing, but losing my double espresso from Connie’s Coffee Shop was another. Now everyone in the entryway could tell I was in a foul mood, and I’d much rather play my emotions close. I chucked the empty coffee cup into the trash and attempted to wipe off my clothes as I walked.
I caught up with Christopher at the elevator. “Bad day, huh?” he asked. He wasn’t joking anymore. He must have been able to tell I was beyond pissed.
The elevator dinged its arrival, and he waved me in before him.
“I’m not in any mood to be social.” I glared at him and tried to bar the door, but he knocked my arm aside and followed me into the elevator.
“It went that bad on Friday?”
Persistent fucker. I really didn’t want to get into the details. The entire weekend had been ruined by my birthday dinner.
Christopher handed me the napkin from his almond croissant and I used it to dab some more at my jacket.
“We’re breaking up,” I said. There’s some sort of admitted defeat when a relationship goes sour, and I hated admitting defeat. I shifted my stance and then looked out the long pane of window that was getting pelted with raindrops.
Christopher’s voice was shocked. “What the hell happened? I thought the two of you were really hitting it off.”
The elevator stopped at the second floor. I didn’t want to talk much about the failed date, but Christopher was just trying to be a good guy. I softened up a bit and waited for the door to open. As we stepped off, I recounted the events from Friday night.
“I picked her up in my Porsche, which I haven’t driven in probably two months. She likes sushi, so I took her to Aniko’s down on Walnut. But all she did was criticize the restaurant and the waiters the whole time we were there. She couldn’t even enjoy her food because she had something negative to say every time she opened her mouth, to me and the waiters.”
Christopher shook his head. “PMS or something?”
“No. I think I met the real Tricia that night.”
I couldn’t figure out why her behavior had gotten to me that way. Usually, I wouldn’t pay much attention to how a waiter was being treated. But something in me felt different this time. Maybe it was because not once during our entire meal did she even mention my birthday. Maybe it was kind of corny of me, but I wished she had at least gotten me a card, or maybe bought me dessert or something. I told all of this to Christopher, and he was silent.
“Sounds like she’s just inconsiderate. Move on.” Christopher shrugged like it was no big deal. In and of itself, it really wasn’t a big deal. But what the night represented to me was.
“Rude is putting it lightly. So I paid for our dinner, drove her home, and then parked the car. She looks at me, like she’s waiting for me to say something, right? And then when I don’t say anything, she looks at me with the most disgusted expression, gets out of the car, and slams the door.” I ran my hands through my hair, exasperated.
“What the fuck was that all about?”
“I texted her later to ask what was up. Apparently that was about her expecting a gift for our two-week anniversary.”
Christopher looked dumbfounded. “A two-week anniversary gift? I thought that shit was over in high school. Who the hell does that?”
“I know. What the fuck?” We wandered into the break room. Maybe someone had made a fresh pot of coffee. No such luck. My day was getting better and better. I grabbed a newspaper from the pile on the table and we headed to my office.
When we got inside, I threw my coffee-soaked and rain splattered jacket viciously against the wall.
In a not-so-rare moment of audacity, Christopher hopped up to sit on my desk. I gave him a pointed look, which he ignored. “Sounds like she was an ice princess, anyway. Let her go. You could pick up another girl in a heartbeat.”
Christopher was right about her being an ice princess. She was rude and greedy. After he left, I sat in silence behind my desk, wondering why I always seemed to go out with shallow women.
* * * * *
I stayed late, working on the site long after everyone else had gone home. I had a staff that should be taking care of things, but I needed to make sure everything was working perfectly. When I was finished, I waited for Alfred, my driver, to pick me up at the building. The rain had finally stopped, so at least something was going right. When we got home, I climbed out of the limo and patted the door.
He stuck his head out the window. “You okay, Joshua?”
“Yeah. Just need to think.” On a different night, I might have invited him in for a drink, but tonight I wasn’t in the mood for company.
I unlocked the huge mahogany door that led into my empty house. I was glad to have finally move into it. It had taken over two years to complete and way more time and attention that I would have ever imagined, but everything needed to be perfect, and imported. Now I just needed to fill it—with furniture, and someone special. I chucked my shoes off and stepped down into the spacious living room. I had a good look at the luxuries that represented all that I’d worked for. There was a massive stone fireplace with an elaborate granite mantle. My designer had chosen several pieces of ornate furniture and the entire place was decked out in rustic décor. On one side of the living room was a wall of windows that revealed the giant Olympic-sized pool lit up beyond the back patio.
I was tired but also kind of restless. Taking out my phone, I scrolled through my contacts, glancing at the pictures of women I’d dated over the past few years. It was a sobering experience. Everyone on the list was gorgeous. Most of them were blondes, or at least fell into that category. There was Meghan, Claire, Ava, and Ingrid. There was Aubrey, Felicity, and Jennifer. And of course, there was Tricia.
I looked at all of their faces for a moment and then put down my phone. Every single one of those women that I’d dated had been beautiful, and every single one of those relationships had ended poorly. Why? I just couldn’t figure it out. I gave these women everything. They were all accustomed to a particular lifestyle, and I understood it perfectly well. They wanted their manicures and their pedicures, their trips to the spa and their spending sprees. They all wanted to have some pocket cash, and most of them expected a car after a certain number of dates. I had come through with it all.
The common thread with all of these women seemed to be their utter lack of substance. I was beginning to realize that all of them had been empty shells of people, vapid and insipid women who only cared about their looks and their bankroll. Most of them expected me to dote on them, and I had. Because of this, it was frustrating to feel like all of my energy was being wasted. I was a successful businessman, and I could run a billion dollar start-up practically on my own. But I couldn’t seem to find love.
All of these women had been interested in the material offerings that I could provide, but none of them had really been interested in me. It was an eye-opening revelation, and it made me feel kind of sick inside.
It was time to move on. Phone in hand, I went through the list of contacts and their photos. Delete. Delete. Delete. Are you sure you want to delete this contact? my phone asked. Hell yes. Delete.
After taking a few deep breaths I reclined on my couch. The leather was soft beneath my hands, and it felt good to have my feet up. I flipped on the television. After five minutes of the evening news, a commercial break came on. A familiar logo popped up on the screen. I’d happened to land on a commercial for my own company: Tolbert & Tolbert’s “Scintilla.”
I watched the commercial with a certain amount of pride. It reminded me of my days of classical piano, all the lessons that had filled my teenage afternoons, and the particular full feeling I’d get when I nailed a trill or mastered a complicated piece. Scintilla gave me a similar feeling of accomplishment. I felt like I was moving forward in the right direction, that my life had taken on a greater level of meaning. I continued to give the commercial my attention, especially when I heard the sultry voice of a gorgeous woman speak.
She had long blond hair and she seemed to look right at me. “Scintilla is the one-stop dating site that utilizes the perfect matchmaking technology to help you find true love. The service is even guaranteed. Find the spark!” She had wide, guileless eyes, and she convinced me that the site was, indeed, capable of making anyone’s dating dreams become reality.
I laughed out loud. This was almost too good to be true. Here I was, the creator of the best online dating service in the country, and I had never even given it a try for myself.
“What the hell.” I shrugged my shoulders and got up off the couch. This would be interesting.
I had my profile set up in a matter of minutes. Now all I had to do was sit back and see what kind of bites I got.