Page 3 of Scales and Seduction

“It’s a dating app.” Burney’s eyebrow rises, and his lip quirks on the left side. I feel his eyes sweeping over me, silently appraising me.

My stomach twists when I remember I actually put effort into my outfit for brunch. My normally wild hair is wrangledbehind sunglasses, and my fuchsia sundress shows just enough of my cleavage. It felt like a fun choice at the time. Now I wish I’d thrown on my baggiest sweatpants and called it a day.

“It has a twist to it, though, so maybe it’s not for you.”

I try to hide the disdain from my face. A dating app and from a weird, creepy shop? I’m not so sure I should chance that. “What kind of twist? Is it safe?”

Burney’s eyes sparkle with something unreadable as he leans over the glass case toward me, a smile tugging at his lips. “Let’s just say the users aren’t exactlyordinary.” His voice is almost too reassuring. “But don’t worry, it’s completely safe. I promise your data is in good hands”

My mind starts racing at all the possibilities of what could happen to me. Quinn told me to be careful with what I signed, and this is really not typical from a repair shop. “Oh… I don’t know.” I look at my phone and then back at the door. Is it really worth it?

“Well, if you don’t download it, then it’s four hundred fifty to fix.”

Sold!

I exhale a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding as I allow myself to think again. “If you steal my credit card information…” I pin him with a stare. “My brother is a cop, and he’ll put you away for life.”

It’s a lie. I don’t even have a sibling, much less a brother, but the lie feels safer than the truth. I have nobody but Quinn and Vince who’d even look for me. Burney doesn’t need to know that, though.

“No theft involved, dear. I swear it,” he says, crossing his heart. “Though I can’t promise that my clients’ tastes won’t be on the eclectic side.” He looks way too amused by what he’s alluding to.

It sounds more like a sex app than dating, but at a hundred dollars, I can’t really lose. It isn’t like I ever have luck with dating, so what’s the harm? Will anyone swipe right, anyway?

My stomach turns funny little flips as the sensation of unease bubbles up, but a dating app is the least of my worries. Besides, maybe I’ll finally have regular sex. It’s been at least three months since I did more than platonically hold someone’s hand.

I nod in agreement, and the butterflies in my stomach take flight again. It’s a tiny nod, but Burney’s grin stretches across his face almost comically. “Do I need to sign a contract?”

“No, just use it at your leisure for at least a month. It will tell me when you log in, and I’ll give you my email to contact me if you encounter any bugs or issues, as well as to give me updates. Once your phone is finished, you’ll have it in your contacts list.”

That’s easy enough. I start to pull my wallet from my bag, and as I do, the curtain flaps open, and a lithe hand with black-painted nails almost as long as the fingers itself darts out. Burney passes the phone off, then dusts off his hands. “So, credit it is?”

Once I pass him the card, the deal is done. An hour later, I have what appears like a brand-new phone in my hands. I hope I don’t regret this.

Ican hardly wait once I get inside my apartment to look at the app. My phone looks good as new, almost as if I’d just bought it. There’s not even a single scratch on it, and I swear even my old ratty phone case seems more pristine than it was earlier today.

As I push the door open, I’m greeted by the mess of my life. I’ve tossed jackets over the back of my teal couch, piled dishes from the last few days in the kitchen sink, and scattered my shoes by the entryway, where I toss them off my feet at the end of each day. The apartment smells like last night’s Chinese food and the coffee I brewed this morning. It’s chaotic, but it’s home.

Noodles greets me as I kick off my dirty white sneakers to the side of my entryway. My cat lets out a littlemrrpas I lean down to stroke his back with my nails. “Who’s a good boy? How was your day?” I ask him in a babyish tone.

In his usual greeting, he rubs affectionately against my leg, leaving cat hair sticking to my black slacks.

He’s my old family cat, his tawny fur is shaggy and dull, and he always coughs up hairballs into my clean laundry. Still, I love him all the same. My grouchy old man hardly lets anyone else pet him but me. So, we have to be besties because nobody elsecan get near him. He’d have likely died by now under my mom’s care.

“Buddy, you wanna see what Mommy got?” I know he doesn’t care because he’d much prefer to lie on top of me or the pile of dirty laundry on my bedroom floor. I turn the cramped corner to face my living room and plop over the arm of my bright teal couch.

Once I secure a pillow under my head, I hold my phone in my hands, determined to unravel the mystery of Burney’s app. Noodles passes by the couch, looks at me, and walks off toward what has to be my laundry pile.

Traitor.

Shockingly, there’s something new there on the home screen underneath my Snapple music icon. It’s a flame with horns and a weird eye in its center. My heart pounds with anticipation as my fingers hover over the screen. I press the icon to open it. As soon as I make contact with it, a surge of energy ripples through my hand, up my arm, and straight into my chest.

“What the fuck was that?” My pulse quickens, and part of my inner voice is telling me to put the phone down. If I do, I’ll be safe. But if I stop now, I’ll owe four hundred dollars. So, self-preservation over money—yeah, money wins.

I look at my phone as a disclaimer in bright white lettering against a pastel pink background says:“Discover your perfect match: Where fangs meet hearts.”

I wrinkle my nose up. That’s entirely too weird. Is it like some sort of roleplay thing?

Rolling my eyes, I click the next arrow as a longer paragraph appears. I should probably read it to know what I’m getting myself into.

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