Page 24 of Pity Present

“Then why are you here?”

Playing on a variation of my previous lies, I tell her, “I’m writing a book. The main character is going on one of these dating weekends, so I figured I’d come check it out.”

“You’re here on false pretenses!” she practically shouts, which causes several people in the near vicinity to turn and stare at me.

“No, not really,” I tell her. “I mean, I’m single too.”

“If you’re not here to meet someone, then you’re throwing off the numbers for everyone else.”

“But I’m not,” I try to explain.

Before I can convince her, she declares, “I’m going to tell Trina. The only people that should be in this room are ones who are sincere about finding love. If you’re not serious, you shouldn’t be here.”

While I’d like nothing more than to get kicked out of this event, I’m guessing Gillian’s retribution would be swift and painful. Like she’d put me on the morgue beat or make me the person in charge of covering PTA meetings at elementary schools. I hurry to tell the flustered woman in front of me, “My name isBlake and while I am writing a book, I’m also a single man looking to find my person.”

Her left eye starts to twitch nervously and I’m about to suggest she go lie down when she blurts out, “Olivia. I’m Olivia.”

Hoping to establish some normal dialogue, I ask. “What do you do, Olivia?”

“I’m a pet psychic,” she answers.So much for normal.

“What does that entail?” I valiantly try not to let any judgment show.

“It entails talking to animals and asking them about their feelings. What did you think it meant?”

Suddenly feeling like a three-hundred-pound man walking across a newly frozen lake, I respond, “I didn’t really know. You’re the first pet psychic I’ve ever met.”

“Do you even have pets?” I’m not sure there’s a man alive who would be suited to a woman with this bristly of an attitude.

“Not currently,” I tell her, “but I used to have a piranha. I don’t suppose you communicate with fish, do you?”

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m not prejudiced against fish.” I briefly wonder if Olivia didn’t just get released from some kind of mental health program. Prematurely.

“I guess I didn’t know if fish communicated the same way other animals do.”

“Of course they do! They have brains, don’t they?” I cannot get away from this woman fast enough.

“I don’t know,” I tell her honestly. “I don’t really know much about fish.”

“Then why would you ever share your household with one?”

“I liked the way he looked,” I tell her.

“Oh, so you’re one of those.” At this point, I half expect Olivia to punch me in the throat and be done with it.

“You know what, Olivia?” I ask, but before she can answer, I tell her, “I think that maybe you and I aren’t a match.”

She has the audacity to look surprised. “Why would you say that?”

“You seem a little hostile,” I say. “I get that I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, so maybe we should both chat with other people.”

Her expression falls to the point where I’m worried she’s going to start crying. “Fine, go. I didn’t want to talk to you anyway.”

A tiny part of me wants to console her, but the bigger part compels me to run for my life. “I hope you meet someone nice,” I tell Olivia. I don’t wait for her response. Instead, I turn around and hurry back to the spot where Molly and I parted ways. I wait for what must be at least twenty minutes before she finally returns.

“Took you long enough,” I accuse.

“Don’t get snippy with me,” she says. “It turns out you might have a future in matchmaking.”

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