Page 31 of The Yes Factor

I narrow my eyes, trying to guess what she’s about to say. Either she’s already won the lottery, or she’s got something up her sleeve I’m not going to like. Judging by the guilty look on her face, my money’s on the latter.

“You know that show? The one with that woman, Stella Bancock who runs the—”

“The dating service?” I say in disgust while Liv nods slowly. “What. Did. You. Do?” I ask in staccato.

Liv bites her lip like she can’t quite bring herself to speak. I don’t blame her.

“Did you sign me up for a reality TV show?” My screech increasing in volume and panic.

She rolls her eyes as if I’ve just said the stupidest thing ever. “No! Come on! I would never do that. You know I hate that crap,” says the woman who I know is secretly addicted to The Real Housewives of Atlanta.

“Just tell me what you did. You’re starting to scare me.” Liv’s response is a mocking “who me?” look. “I’m dead serious here, Liv. What’s going on?” My patience is wearing thin.

Liv sounds a little too upbeat. “I signed you up for Stella’s matchmaking service!” I protest, but she keeps talking, just louder. “Don’t worry, it was free to sign you up since you’re an attractive single woman. It’s the millionaire men who have to pay a small fortune to Stella.”

Like the money is what I’m most worried about! I’m too flabbergasted to speak. I thought Liv couldn’t top herself after the “house party” but apparently I was wrong. She is the wingwoman from hell.

“Liv, in the future, don’t sign me up for things where single women get in for free!” I throw my hands up in exasperation. “Did you learn nothing from the Chandace experience?”

“Relax, it’s no big deal. I don’t see how it’s any different from dating apps you’ve already been on. You have your first date tonight at six p.m. with Brad at The Pearl and The Girl.” Liv crosses her arms and smiles like she’s just delivered amazing news. Which she kind of has. I’ve been dying to go to The Pearl and The Girl and have never had the opportunity, or the money. The food is supposed to be stellar and the LA Times ranked it as having the best cocktails in the city. But Liv doesn’t need to know it’s been on my culinary bucket list. I can’t let her get away with this that easily.

I dive in. “First off, that Stella woman is batshit crazy. I know reality TV isn’t real, but if she’s half as crazy as she is on TV, then we have a problem. Secondly, I already told you, I don’t care about dating someone with money. Hello! Have we met?” I shake my hand in bewilderment. “This whole thing makes me feel like a piece of meat, and frankly, I’m a little shocked you’d go there.”

Liv has pushed beyond my limits on this one. Liv has always been self-conscious about the financial struggles her family had when she was growing up. But she’s never seemed so preoccupied with money and status as she seems now. Ever since she moved to London with Ethan, it’s gotten worse. Things like this make me feel like I don’t even know who she is anymore. Where are her priorities?

She lets out a hard sigh. “Bex, I came here to leave no stone unturned. If you’re gonna fall in love, why not do it with someone rich? You just spent thirty dollars on scratchers, for God’s sake. So don’t tell me that you wouldn’t mind having money.”

Well, she isn’t totally wrong, I mean, who wouldn’t want to win the lottery. But I am not a gold digger. This big bucks Brad is probably just looking for an obedient piece of arm candy. What kind of guy wants to date a woman who’s interested in him for his money? Despite my reservations about it all, I know Liv won’t let me say no and I don’t want to get into another fight with her. And I can’t deny that there’s a little part of me that’s curious and a bigger part of me that wants to be wined and dined at The Pearl and the Girl.

“Fine. One date with Stella’s service. That’s all I’m gonna give you on this one. After tonight, you remove me from the site and we never speak of it again. Deal?”

Liv smiles in pure triumph. “Deal.”

“So did you win anything?” I blow away the silvery shavings off my scratchers.

“No. Where did you buy these from?” she asks suspiciously. “Did you get them from the gas station?”

“They’re from 7-Eleven,” I say in an “I told you so” voice.

“Humph.” Liv shrugs her shoulders. “That’s weird. Well, it doesn’t matter. We might just end up millionaires tonight anyway!”

I roll my eyes. Why do I let her get away with these schemes?

* * *

Liv is sprawled out on my bed watching me put on my makeup. Women are funny that way; we seem to love watching each other put on makeup, looking to see how we do things differently, if someone has a special trick to achieve the perfect cat eye. As I’m finishing my eyeliner flick I call out, “Liv, what do we know about Brad? Show me everything Stella sent over. I want pics, bio, everything.”

Liv laughs uneasily, which means she’s going to drop another bomb on me.

“Uh, well, that’s the thing about Stella’s service. She doesn’t send any photos, just a short bio, not even a last name. She tries to make things as un-google-able as possible. Keeping it old-school so it’s about the immediate chemistry and connection.”

“And the money,” I grumble as I comb my eyelashes to remove a few clumps. I need some new mascara. I feel like I’ve been using this same pink and green tube of Maybelline since my twenties. But then, why am I even caring about how I look for this date? “No pics, huh? That doesn’t leave me with a very optimistic feeling. What does his bio say?” I guess Stella’s philosophy is when you’re dating a millionaire, his looks don’t matter.

Liv scrolls through her phone to find Stella’s email with the information on Brad. She reads out loud as I finish up my final touches. “Brad B. is originally from Seminole, Oklahoma. He is the heir to a successful oil drilling company that’s been in his family for generations. He’s often in California for business and recently opened a West Coast office. Brad B. enjoys golf, documentaries, and Tex-Mex.”

I put down my powder brush to give Liv a slow two-clap applause for her rousing delivery of the most boring bio I’ve ever heard. But he does like Tex-Mex. And I never say no to queso, so at least we have that in common.

I clear my throat. “Is that the best Stella can do? Jeez. I was hoping this would be more exciting. Like, a movie producer or something. Have you tried looking for him on Facebook?”

---