The Accidental Date

Chapter 1

There are three things my friends learn about me very quickly. First, I’m an L.A. girl heart, soul, and mind. It is a source of pride for me that I have lived my entire adult life in L.A. Second, I love my job. I’m in high demand as a make-up artist for weddings throughout Southern California with the occasional trip to Hawaii, Mexico, and the Bahamas. Third, I think that life is like a Shakespearean comedy with more tragedy than comedy, but everything will turn out all right in the end. My philosophy: if you can’t laugh at yourself, you are setting yourself up for an unhappy life. Laughter really is the best medicine.

I can’t really complain much about my life. I have great friends, an amazing family, and a job that currently seems untouched by a weak economy. Sure, I haven’t really dated since college, but that’s not what life is about. I’m not going to date for the sake of dating and I won’t allow loneliness to control my social life. That’s just not who I am.

Normally I wouldn’t feel the need to document any part of my life for anyone, but this story needs an explanation. Forgive me, reader, if I don’t give anything away now. If I’m going to be completely honest, I don’t really know how it ends because I’m writing this down before it’s over. I’ll try to be concise. No promises.

So back to the dating-loneliness topic. Most of my friends date whoever they think is hot or wealthy—which I guess makes that person hot to most of my friends. It’s amazing the power money has over people. Short, balding, middle-aged Louis suddenly becomes worth Rachel’s time when she see’s he’s wearing a Rolex and driving a Corvette. Melissa will fall over anyone who wears a handmade Italian suit or pulls off the east coast look of loafers and a Dolce & Gabbana shirt. Sweet, sweet Catherine goes more for the intellectual look—Versace glasses, T-shirt, and J. Crew jeans—still a symbol of money, but with the “just thrown together” look. I don’t judge them whatsoever. Each one of them loves their life and doesn’t mind the week or so of heartache after the inevitable break up.

But, no matter how specific each girl seems, there is always that one guy that every woman will find attractive. He’s carefree yet totally in control, can practically read your mind but allows you to believe you’re a mystery, amazingly smart but makes you feel brilliant, makes you feel like you’re the only girl in the world while acknowledging your friends just enough to make you feel respected. The worst thing about this kind of guy is that he knows the power he holds.

I recently encountered a guy like this while I was out at a bar with my friends. He entered the bar, eyed all the girls, saying hi as he passed, then chose his prey. Melissa fell for his act hook, line, and sinker and Jakob knew it the second he introduced himself. They dated for about a week. And then he saw Catherine and Rachel and most of their friends until he decided he was done with that pool of girls. He literally dated every girl I knew in the single, 20-40ish age group. Every one of them fell for his act and every one of them seemed surprised when he didn’t call them back. And people wonder why I don’t date.

* * * * * *

“Elisabeth Ryssen to see Marge Cletch.”

Despite having enough clients, I like to make my name known among the wedding planners’ world.

“Right this way.” The receptionist led me to the back office. Every office along the way had large, semi-transparent windows with the names and titles of the occupant etched on each.

“Ms. Ryssen to see you, Mrs. Cletch.”

“Thank you, Mildred.” said Marge.

I made a point to remember her name. It seemed so cliché for a receptionist to be named “Mildred”. That can’t be her birth name, I laughed to myself. It’s just too perfect.

“Thank you for coming,” Marge said, interrupting my thoughts.

“My pleasure!” I replied. “It’s good to finally put a face to the name. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“I can’t say I’ve heard much about you.” Marge countered. It seemed like she wanted me to be on the defensive.

“Well, I see that to be part of my job. People shouldn’t know I was there. The make-up should be so perfect, so flawless, that nobody even thinks about the artist. But, were you to ask my bride’s and their wedding parties who did their make-up, they would quickly and happily say my name. “

“That’s an interesting philosophy. For someone who could make or break a wedding and the memories the couple holds for the rest of their lives, it would seem you would want to be remembered.”

“Remembered, yes. But only as an afterthought.” I said. “I am just accentuating the true beauty of each woman. When the groom looks at the bride, he should really see her, not all the makeup she wears. If he sees my work first, I have failed.”

Marge thought for a moment, typed a quick note on her computer, then replied, “I love how you romanticize everything you say! You must truly be a romantic. We are looking for someone with your personality, taste, and work ethic. I love everything from your portfolio. Thank you for sending that in earlier this week, by the way. That was a pleasant surprise.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed that the interview was practically done and I was already on the homestretch.

“We recently added another makeup artist to our staff, but she seems a little…how shall I put this delicately…unstable right now.”

“May I ask who you her name?” I interrupted. Her glance encouraged me to continue. “Is it Chantell Marques?”

“Yes.” Her tone expressed her surprise and curiosity at my information. “How did you figure that out?”

“Chantell and I are acquaintances. I heard of her recent break up and I know how emotional she can be about everything. I just figured it must be her. I didn’t realize she worked closely with you, though, until just now.”

“Yes, well, she seemed to think she and this guy were getting married and then all of a sudden she wasn’t returning any communication. She had even signed a preliminary contract with one of our planners and had chosen the venue for her wedding. Jacque or Jack or Jake something-or-other and Chantell Marques—it really sounded quite beautiful.”

Marge seemed to lose herself in wedding planner bliss. But, as I thought over everything she said, I suddenly made a connection.

“Was it Jakob? With a ‘k’?” I asked, incredulous of the coincidence.

“One moment.” Marge pressed a button on her phone. A voice quickly answered with a charming and enthusiastic “Hello!”

“How is Chantell’s ex-fiance’s name spelled?” Marge asked. We waited for a couple seconds before for a response.

“J-A-K-O-B.”

“Why do you ask, Ms. Ryssen?” Marge looked at me with deep curiosity. I could tell she got into the wedding planning profession after perfecting her skills as a gossip.

“I’ve met the guy.” The door of the office suddenly slammed open and shut, allowing an attractive, eager man to appear near my side. I could only assume he was the voice that had spelled Jakob’s name. “He’s the worst type of guy to meet. He’s one of those guys that makes everyone feel like they are the only one for them, but in reality, he just wants something from you. I feel bad nobody was around to tell Chantell about him. He has dated every girl I know.”

“Including you?” Marge and the assistant asked in unison.

“No.” I replied with pride. “I have happily avoided him”

“Good. We don’t need another breakdown like that. It’s quite unprofessional.” Marge said. “Needless to say, since Chantell’s contract ends next month, we are looking to fill her spot with someone a little more…reliable. If we offer you the position, we ask that you prioritize our clients over any freelance work. In fact, we ask that you have all freelance work approved by us before accepting the job. After all, we don’t want you overbooking yourself.” She gently giggled before continuing. “We will go over details later, but I’ll write a preliminary offer down so you can think about accepting the position here and be prepared if the offer is extended. Phillip, please get me the sample contract for a makeup artist.”

As Phillip disappeared out the door—as quickly as he appeared, I might add—I made another note to research Phillip. Once again, a cliché name. It would be eerie if I didn’t think it was so funny.

Phillip returned with the contract and gave it to me, I shook hands and exchanged pleasantries with Marge, Mildred, and Phillip, and exited the building. While I hated what this Jakob did to my friends, I had to be grateful for his destruction making an opening for a position like this. The offer they quoted me per month just to prioritize their weddings was about equal to my average month. And this offer didn’t include commissions or tips. This could be an amazing opportunity.