Splitsville.com (4 page)

“I run the SPCA and one of the guys bet I wouldn’t go up to the booth.” He lets me walk first behind the hostess to our table. Though I wish he’d led the way. Her aura is black. And it makes me wonder if she’s divorced, abused or some sort of addict. “Naturally I couldn’t back down,” he adds.

I’m not sure if I want the answer, but I ask anyway, “How much was I worth?” My heart beats faster with each second that goes by.

His hand touches my back and he pulls out my chair. I turn and look at him not in the least bit scared. Maybe aura reading has its perks after all. I know I’m totally safe with Bradley.

“Not nearly enough,” he said. “It was one kiss for a fifty dollar donation to the SPCA. I would’ve done it if you were a mutt, but you aren’t so I took the bet for one kiss.”

“But you paid for two.” I’m trying to figure out his math.

“Because I wanted the second one for myself.” I swear I see some pink in his cheeks.

I nibble my bottom lip trying not to get too excited. I turn the menu over and focus on what to order. I’m already getting my hopes up about Bradley and totally don’t want to screw it up. I calculate how much time I have before I have to tell him the truth about my gift. Not nearly enough, I decide.

My mouth waters as Bradley orders a large BBQ chicken pizza and a couple of side salads. It’s fate, because it’s exactly what I would’ve ordered.

I give my menu back to the waitress, trying not to think about her black aura, poor girl. “So you’re the one who hires Erin’s business every year for the fund raiser?” Even if Erin was just trying to keep me away from Kent so I wouldn’t read his aura-too late for that, she did me a favor by hooking me up with Bradley. I’ll thank her one day.

“Yep. Plan It is a worthy program and Erin is easy to work with.” He takes a sip of soda. “But she never told me about you or we would’ve met a long time ago.”

I don’t look at him. If I do, I’m afraid I’ll get my hopes up even higher than they already are, and I don’t want to do that. I’ve been disappointed in love too many times to fall easily. But I think it’s too late. I feel like Renee Zellweger in Jerry Macguire.
You had me when I saw your blue aura.

I don’t want to make it too obvious, but I need to find out more about Erin and Kent. “Erin and I’ve been friends for a really long time,” I say between bites. “She loves her job.”

“She should. She’s good at it.” Bradley points to my cheek.

“What?” I rub my fingers down my face.

Bradley reaches over with a napkin, and wipes my chin. “I got it. Your salad dressing dripped off your fork.” His smile looks brighter with his blue aura surrounding him.

I look down before he sees me blush. “I guess you’re the one Erin’s been working so closely with on the fundraiser?”

He nods.

“I didn’t realize Erin and Kent were so hot and heavy. Did she say anything to you about their relationship?” I ask nonchalantly.

“Not much. She always refers to him as her boyfriend.” He shrugs. He waves his hands in the air, and makes a face like he doesn’t get it either. “My boyfriend this, my boyfriend that. She’s definitely into him.”

He doesn’t get the severity of his words. I roll my eyes. “I have no clue what she sees in him. I think it’s weird how he came to the kissing booth and insisted on a kiss.”

Bradley puts his drink down. His blue aura tones down a little as he’s deep in thought. “He wanted a kiss from you?” His eyes narrow.

“Yes.” My eyebrows rise. “Then he played if off when Erin showed up. Has she said anything about him?”

“Nope.” He holds his glass up for the waitress to refill. “Just that she’s into him.”

I decide to drop it. I can tell by his tone that he doesn’t care about Erin and her relationship.

“So what do you do?” Bradley asks as we make room on the table for the pizza the waitress is holding over our heads. I love how fresh baked pizza smells coming straight from the oven.

This is the question I have a hard time answering. “Dot com business,” I say. It’s my standard answer, even though it’s vague. If I say it fast enough, maybe it won’t stick in his brain.

“What?” He sucks up the cheese dangling from his mouth. “Dot com?”

“You know, internet stuff.” I take a big bite of pizza stalling for time.

He takes a drink. “I know—Internet, but what type?”

I keep chewing as I think. As I see it I have two options. One, tell him the truth and watch him run away as fast as he can or two, tell a little white lie and keep him around for as long as I can.

“Well?” His interest isn’t waning.

“Research. Boring old research.”

“Sounds interesting. Like what kind of research?” He grabs another slice of pizza.

It’s really a good sign that he’s so interested in knowing stuff about me, but geez, I wish he’d let me off the hook. “Heart research. Let’s not talk about my job. I get enough of that during the week.” I get another piece, telling myself it’s not really a lie. I do help people with their hearts. Heartache, specifically, but I leave that part unsaid.  

We enjoy the rest of our dinner talking about the SPCA and his love of animals. Our glasses are drained, and the pizza joint is empty except for us and our morose waitress.

On the drive back to my car, I discovered there’s more to Bradley than his blue aura. He talks about his family, love of animals and his zest in life. All of this is why I’ve always searched for a blue aura mate. Unfortunately I think I’m hook, line and sinker.

Four

I couldn’t wait to get home to text Bradley after he dropped me off. “Thanks 4 dinner.” My fingers can’t type fast enough as I get settled at my desk before I check out my new dump clients. I don’t want to seem the eager beaver, but I do want him to call.

My phone vibrates. “My pleasure. How about dinner tomorrow night?” My heart jumps as I read his text.

I hit reply. “Sure, where?” I play it casual. I look at the list of dating stages on my desk.

“We’ll play it by ear. I’ll pick u up.” His texts are short and sweet.

With a few minor details on time and my address, we are set. As I push the off button, I see I missed a call. It’s a number I don’t recognize. I panic. Maybe it’s the police! Maybe they’ve already made a connection between Dabi’s murder and Splitsville.com.

I read the number over and over in my head. My light isn’t blinking so I know they didn’t leave a message. Do I call the number back? Do I risk it? What if it’s someone I’ve dumped using Splitsville.com or what if it was Bradley calling from a different number. Maybe the SPCA?

Without even thinking, I grab the phone and dial the number. It’s as if my arm

and my brain is not even connected.

“Hello.” A familiar voice answers.

I slam the phone. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

My phone rings. I look at the Caller ID on the third jingle. Damn caller ID. It’s handy when I need it, but it totally sucks when someone else is using it.

“Hello?” I say. I sound all sweet and innocent.

“Did you just hang up on Kent?” Erin’s voice on the other end of the line is loud and demanding. And all I can think is that she’s already a goner. I just hope for Erin’s sake this Kent guy isn’t another gold digger.

But she sure does sound awfully defensive about him. “I didn’t know who it was.” I assure her. “What’s going on?”

I can hear Kent in the background talking over her. “Did you forget that tomorrow night is the Spring Fling at Pleasant Ridge Park?” she asks me.

I slap my palm to my forehead. Yes, I’d completely forgotten about it. “A…no.” I say. Man I’m getting too good at this lying. Guilt coils through me. “Bradley and I are going and want you two to meet us?”

I’m one great best friend. I really wanted to have some alone time with Bradley, but I can’t skip out on the annual Spring Fling with Erin. It’s a tradition. We always go together, even if it means an evening with Kent.

“Oh!” she squeals. I wait out the long pause and she says, “Really? You want to go on a double date?”

“Yes.” I’m surprised to hear myself say. “If you like him, I’m sure I will.”

I can hear her in the background explaining to Kent what the annual Spring Fling is. “Yes, let’s do it,” she says after a minute and I can hear how excited she is. “We’ll meet you there.”

“Great,” I say, though inside I’m dismayed. 

“Oh, and Olivia?” Erin says. “I knew you’d get along with Bradley. He’s great, yes?”

It’s the perfect opening. “Why did you say you told me about him? Because you didn’t.”

“I didn’t?” She plays coy, but her innocent act isn’t sitting so well in the pit of my stomach.

“No. You didn’t. It could have backfired.” I want to clear the air before I see her. “Why did you do that?”

“I didn’t
do
anything Olivia. Can’t you be happy that he’s into you and can’t you be happy that
I’m
happy?”

Yes, I can be happy Bradley’s into me, but I can’t be happy about Kent. I don’t like the sound of Erin’s voice or the way she acts when she’s around him. And I don’t like that she’s settling for someone who’s not good enough for her—again. But now is not the time to talk to her about it, so I bite my tongue. “I am happy for you. I’m happy if you’re happy. And yes, Bradley is a great guy.”

I hear a chipper sound in her voice. “It all worked out. We’ll meet you around seven?”

“See you then,” I confirm.

I can’t decide whether to call Bradley or text him. I dial. Okay, so maybe I want to hear his voice.

“Hi, Liv.” Bradley sounds like he’s smiling when he answers.

“Hi.” I laugh at the sound of barking dogs in the background. And at the fact that he’s already using my nickname.

“Are you canceling on me? Did I already scare you off?” he asks with a laugh.

I speak a little louder because I know he can’t hear me over all the dogs. “No way!” I can’t stop smiling. “You’re not getting off that easy. I wanted to ask if we can meet Erin and Kent at the annual Spring Fling at Pleasant Ridge Park tomorrow night?”

The sounds of chains and gates cause me to move the phone away from my ear. “Yeah, sounds great. What time?”

“Pick me up around 6:30,” I scream into the receiver.

“Okay.” He’s yelling, too. “Gotta go toss some Frisbee. See you tomorrow.”

My body tingles just like the first time he kissed me. “Bye.” I linger a moment to hear him hang up the phone.

Aunt Matilda creeps down the hall allowing her cream gypsy dress to float serenely along the hard wood floors. The slight jingles of her bells use to drive me crazy when I was a kid. She’d walk down the hall and check on me every night. But now it’s a comfort.

“What’s all the screaming about?” she asks after I hang up the phone. Then she nods like she knows. “Oh, how was volunteering? Did you adopt a cute puppy? Or something better, perhaps?”

Aunt Matilda doesn’t like that I live alone and is always trying to get me to adopt a dog.

Maybe she’s the one who needs a dog to come home to at night.

I ignore her comment because I don’t have time for a dog and attempting to explain that is useless. I change the subject.

“You aren’t going to believe what I saw today.” My anxiety over Kent’s aura is outweighing my giddiness about Bradley’s. “A magenta aura.”

Her eyebrows cock up. She takes a sharp breath and draws her hand up to her mouth.

“Don’t worry.” I reassure her. “It changed to violet right away.” Which I still don’t understand and which I hope to hell to make sense of—for Erin’s sake.

Five

I had plans to clean my house before starting work, but since I neglected my dumps last night the piles of clothes will have to wait. I feel almost schizophrenic—or multiple personality. Half of me is on a high because of Bradley, the other half can’t shake the chills after seeing creepy Kent and his aura, not to mention Dabi’s death.

I grab a piece of day-old pizza out of the box and sit down at my computer to find all the lovely souls I’m going to come in contact with. Thank God Bradley is nothing like the people who use my service. Kent, on the other hand, is exactly like them.

The thought of going on a double date with them tonight puts me in a mean mood. A great mood to dump people.

I click on Splitsville.com emails to see what’s in store. Wait! The threatening email (or disgruntled) I deleted yesterday is sitting in my inbox. "Didn't I delete that?" I mutter.

I scan the date and time to confirm that it's the same email. Holy moly. It isn't.

My finger trembles, hovering over the ENTER button. It's like pleasure and pain. I want to click it, but then again I don't. Finally, I let my finger drop. “End Splistville.com. Last chance.” I read it out loud a few times. Each time I use a different voice. And I confirm, no matter what tone I use, sweet or evil, the threat sounds a little more real. I don't recognize the sender. Maybe a prank?

I take a deep breath. I have a sneaky suspicion this isn't a prank. My hands shake as I make myself open the next email. Work must go on. One good thing, I’m confident they don’t know me.

At least I hope so.
I dial my first victim.“Hi, is William there?” I pull up William’s picture and chuckle at the college student doing the infamous beer bong. The dumper is really getting her point across on why she wants to dump him.

“Yep.”

“Hi, Bill, I’m Jenn from Splitsville.com and I am calling for Cecilia because. . ..”

“You want Ceecee?” Of course he interrupts me. I hate when people interrupt me.

“No,” I say slowly, “I’m calling because Cecilia hired me to break up with you because you have no ambition in life and are unmotivated.” I get the sinking feeling this call’s going to take a while. I put my headphones on and pick up my house. It’s a mess and quite frankly I haven’t had anyone to clean it for or anyone to impress. But now that Bradley is coming over, the entire program has changed. I definitely don’t want him to know what a messy person I am.

“Wait, wait, and wait.” William stops me with his loud voice. “Did you call me Bill?”

Clothes and magazines are all around me. The more I pick up, the more I take my frustrations out on dear Bill. “You know, William or Bill, it’s all the same.”

“Listen, my name is William not Bill. And who are you again?” He’s staying in stage one of “the process.” No wonder he’s in his sixth year of college. You ain’t too bright, are you, Billy? I shake my head, taking another look at his photo. His eyes droop and scraggly hair is cemented to his head. Dumb as a post. I flip the radio on for background noise.

“I’m Jenn from Splitsville.com and Cecilia hired me to break up with you because you are in your sixth year of college. She’s getting ready to graduate dude. What the hell have you been doing the last six years?” A little part of me cringes, remembering Dabi and Michael. If my breakup call had unhinged Michael, I was responsible. Was I doing it again?

“What? Is this a joke?” His voice escalates, “Did she like Google you or some shit like that?”

“I don’t know if she used Google or not, but she did hire me.” Really I don’t know how she found me, but it’s worth putting the question on the form to see where most of my business comes from.

“I bet you are some big fat chick with dimples all over your ass that lives with your parents. Aren’t you, bitch?” I hear a big thud and jump as he says, “I bet you can’t even get a date.”

WOW! I grab “The Process” checklist and realize he’s the first dumpee that’s completely skipping stages three through five. He’s going straight for the jugular.

“Well, I don’t live with my parents.” I smile thinking about Bradley and my date for the night. 

I walk over to the mirror and peer at my body image. I rack my fingers through my long black locks, turn my head and look down my body. Sure I could tone a little in the rump area, I think poking around on my back end. Nope, not fat either Billy.

“Listen man, she’s getting ready to graduate and start grad school. What are you getting ready to do?” I turn around looking at the front

I wish these people would listen to me. I separate the two big piles of clothes into three smaller piles: dark, white, and not sure. I briefly move the phone away from my ear when I hear the radio announcer mention Dabi’s name. I drop the t-shirt and walk closer to the radio. I pull the phone from my head and put my ear up to the speaker only to hear they are going to reveal a suspect later in the day. My chest fills with panic. The missed call I’d gotten. Was it really the police? Was I a suspect?

“I’m getting ready to go to the liquor store because in about an hour I’m heading for spring break.” William keeps his voice strong and steady. His masculine act makes me want to puke.

“Great, William! That’s exactly why she’s dumping you.” I have to get on with this and Google Dabi. I continue. It’s my job, I remind myself. “What is your major, dude?”

In my real life, I never use the word “dude,” but in my job, I can be or say whatever I want. Although right now I’m not sure Jenn from Splitsville.com is a good person to be

“Paleontology. You know, digging.” He sounds like a complete fool.

“Six years of undergrad?” I question, knowing full well he needs his undergrad classes and then a masters which means he’s far from a degree. “Are you going to Africa to dig up some bones on spring break?”

“Naw. I’m going to Florida to dig on the beach. You know what I mean?” He snickers. “You want to come?”

“No, but I’m thinking maybe you should major in GET A CLUE BUDDY!” I’m growing tired of old Billy awful fast. “Cecilia has dumped you. Now move on.”

“You know what?”

Oh goody, I’m about to get a life lesson from William. “What?”

“I’ll accept what you’re saying, but…”

I stop him, he has said the magic words. “Thank you Billy for using Splitsville.com.” I have my finger on the off button and push. Quickly I type Cecilia a personal note to let her know her decision is wise and wish her good luck in graduate school.

I grab another slice of day-old pizza and flick on the television in time to hear the impromptu press conference on Dabi Stone. No suspect named yet, and new evidence coming in. My heart flips over like a dead fish. Oh God, oh God, oh God

I race around the house, throwing everything into an empty closet. I still have one more dump to do before Bradley shows up. And before I can really investigate the link between Splitsville.com and Dabi.

I begin my next call.

“Is Mac there?” I ask the voice on the other end of the line. This dump is particularly interesting to me. Carla’s dumping poor old Mac because he’s sensitive. Isn’t that we are all looking for in a man? We complain we can never find the sensitive, caring type and when we have him, we don’t want him anymore.

“This is Mac.” His voice is curious. Maybe Mac should dump Carla.

I pull up Mac’s photo. He looks like a nice guy. A little thin but handsome. His teeth aren’t perfect, but whose are?

“Hi, Mac, I’m Jenn from
Splitsville.com
and I’m calling on behalf of Carla.” I wonder if she made him grow the goatee. I imagine Mac without facial hair. I smile at the baby face lurking under. Could Mac go postal?

“What?” Mac is quick to question when he hears Carla’s name. “Splitsville.com?”

I bury my head in my hands and push the idea away. “Yep. Carla hired me to break up with you because you are, well, just a little bit too sensitive for her.” I begin noting the steps in “the process.”

He laughs, “I’m what?”

“She says you’re too sensitive. She says you cry during those animal commercials.” I don’t blame him. I have to turn the channel every time I hear Sarah McLachlan’s song playing on the television.

“Of course I do. I can’t imagine what an innocent animal can do to warrant such treatment.” Mac is in the explaining stage of “the process.” He says, "Anyone who doesn't is heartless."

“I understand that, but she’s breaking. . .”

Click.

I stop and listen. He hung up on me! “Great!” This is not going as smoothly as it needs to go. I punch in his phone number.

“Hello?”

“Hey Mac.” I continue with my break-up, “I think we got disconnected.”

“Nooo,” he groans.

It’s not a good sign when someone draws out their words.

“I hung up on you.” His voice makes a sudden change from groaning to commanding. Definitely not the shy guy I first called.

“You know, Mac, you seem like a super nice guy, but some women want a strong shoulder to cry on or hang out with. Not someone they have to wipe tears off of and babysit or someone who enjoys chick flicks.” Of course, not me. I’d love a guy who’s into
Serendipity
or
Say Anything
, my two favorite movies.

I can’t help but give him a little advice. “You know the guy that just hung up on me.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.
That’s
the kind of guy a woman wants. Assertive, aggressive.” I continue, “Throw in a few of those episodes and a good mix of sensitive and a girl won’t be able to resist.”

Click.

“Jesus, Mac!” I shake my fist at his picture, scolding him for hanging up on me 
again
. “Let’s try this one more time.” I jam my finger against the numbers on the phone.

“Whaaaat?” A sniffling Mac answers the phone. I clue in on the typing noise in the background.

“Did you find Splitsville.com?” This is where I usually hammer the coffin shut, but Mac might go all suicidal on me and I don’t want 
that
 on my shoulders. Potential murder is plenty, thank you.

“Man. That son of a bitch.” Mac mutters.

Son of a what? That's a little harsh for Carla, but I decide not to say so. He seems to be taking this harder than I expected, plus it’s not my job to solve his life issues.

“Come on, Mac, pull yourself together. Can you tell me why I’m calling?” I want to plead with him to say yes so we can both be put out of our misery. I’ve been thinking. And planning. And now I have to get on with my next victim-Michael Schultz.

“No,” he mutters. “I don’t understand.”

“Why can’t you? How have you been treating her?” I never get personal, but he’s bringing it out of me.

Oh no! I become a little shaky, fear radiating through my veins. Has Bradley gotten to me already? Am I losing my touch? Am I getting weak because Cupid has shot me square in my butt?

I read down the dump file a little more. There has to be more than this sensitive crap. B. I. N.G.O!

“Mac, Mac, Mac.” I know I have something that will really get him to understand. “It says here that she’s tired of you spending all her hard-earned cash on dates you asked her out on.”

“She’s the one who wanted to go on those elaborate dates.”

I’m starting to hear the anger in Mac’s voice. I take another look at his picture and the sensitive face that might lurk under the facial hair isn’t so visible to me anymore.

“Plus I haven’t seen her because she's been busy.”

“She has been busy. Busy finding Splitsville.com. She’s tired of your freeloading ways. She likes men Mac. Real, hard core men. Men who make money and can take her out for a good time. Not a man who spends her money.” I have to dig down deep on this. “Do you understand?”

“You don’t have to be such a bitch.”

“Little too late to man up, Mac. Do you understand you are being dumped by Carla using Splitsville.com?” My harsh voice booms through the phone.

“I’m going to puke.” Mac’s voice sounds distant and muffled. “Who am I going to date now?”

“Okay well I don’t know who you’re going to date and I don’t care. But before you blow chunks can you please tell me you understand?” I cross my fingers in the air.

“Yes.” Mac cries out like a sick coyote. “I understand. I got it. I’ve been dumped by Carla, the rich bitch. Thank you and good night.”

“Thank you, Mac, for using Splitsville.com.” I hang up, feeling as sick as Mac sounded and stare a bit longer at his picture and his not so perfect smile.

I glance at my watch. Shit! The house is barely clean and Bradley will be here any minute to pick me up. I have no time to dig into Dabi’s situation.