Chapter 9

No more of the norm I’d gotten so used to in the few weeks I’d had it. Cristo’s presence, unexpected antics, his eyes so intense that I’d never realized how desperate they really were.
“Greece, huh.” I pondered aloud as I sat in a loveseat, overlooking Gangnam’s still crowded street. The occasional cyclist would squeeze against streams of dark cotton and leather that were heading down towards the clubs. Koreans held their alcohol.
I’d hear the occasional police siren in the distance. My lone lightbulb overhead flickered sadly as it drew slow and dying moths to it.
“Greece?” Blair asked, confused.
I snapped out of my reverie immediately, realizing I wasn’t in the hotel room.
“Oh, sorry.” I blinked quickly and shook my head with an apologetic smile, “I was somewhere else in my head. Some holiday.”
“I took a while, I believe…” she nodded, eyeing me with concern. She was perched on the edge of her desk, hands placed elegantly on the edge to hold herself as she leaned forward. A red stiletto planted firmly on the ground and she bounced the other behind it on its toe. “Did Cristo upset you? You never bid him farewell back.”
“I was out of it.” I shook my head, “I haven’t been sleeping well these days.”
“I’m aware of the intricacies of your work.” She breathed deeply, as if she could relate to me. I wanted to scoff. Not that her job was any less difficult, but it was still different. “Anyway,” she grabbed a clipboard and pen, “I wanted to run through the event and get some input. Sort of show you circulation on the plans and whatnot.”
“Of course.”
It didn’t take up more than an hour to get a run down and make some major tweaks. It was kind of sad to watch. She was clearly not as experienced as she made herself look. She was a year older than I was and it threw me off to see how little thought went behind such a huge project with so much potential. Maybe that’s what it was? This image of deceit? Or perhaps she was insecure of the facts and was trying her best to catch up?
I couldn’t really tell. And although I couldn’t deny I was envious of how beautiful she was…there wasn’t much besides that aspect that I needed to be threatened by.
I wasn’t much competition myself, keeping to the shadows the way I did with nothing but money and skill to put to my name.
What did I even like doing besides working?
Ugh. Not now, I reminded myself, I have to get some sleep and then profile Jeanne-Pierre.

I’d tried to get his basics down from other matchmakers in the vicinity. French, obviously. Thirty-six years old. His longest relationship was a year. Personality, very…turbulent? Had to see what that meant. Loved backgammon. Ridiculously so. The guy was fixated. Barely left the board. Or his room for that matter. Had a successful publishing house with many great writers to boast of, so he wasn’t financially in danger.
“No psych eval?” Lyra asked.
“Didn’t offer much.” I sighed, “He might be a recluse out of choice. I tried looking into any history of abuse or traumatic event. Rich people hide a lot.”
“He did grow up mostly in the countryside without many kids his age to play with.” Lyra offered.
“The guy’s keen on animals.” I nodded, “Loves alpacas. Oh, look, he has alpacas on one of his estates.”
“His parents died two years ago, a few weeks apart.”
“He was like this well before their deaths.”
“Still, take it into consideration.”
“My bias against parental figures might be getting in the way,” I admitted with a sigh and let my head fall back against my seat. “We almost there?”
“Yep, get ready.”
The restaurant wasn’t too packed. His request was to not be in a space that was too overcrowded. He liked Chinese food a lot, so we reserved a table for three that would be barricaded by screen dividers.
“The screen-dividers are actually from Japan,” Jean-Pierre informed me once we were seated and had ordered, “They’re still hand painted with the traditional Chinese elements of art.”
“You’ve an appreciation for furniture?”
“I like homes.”
He had brown hair, shy eyes that glinted caramel in the light, and fair skin with rosy cheeks. Jean-Pierre fidgeted. A lot.
I softened my voice for him, “Are you nervous?”
“Perhaps.”
He looked around with clasped hands, taking in the light ambience of glasses clinking and cutlery softly scraping against ceramic. The deep red hues muted out the bright light bulbs in the place. “I like this very much.”
I nodded in agreement, “It’s easy on the mind. So, Jean-Pierre, what does your everyday life look like?”
We delved into a seemingly light-hearted conversation about his random interests that gave me more insight than I was expecting. The guy was funny, wasn’t too keen on kids but would adopt if necessary, which he was planning on if he got married. And he wanted to. He just had a hard time connecting with people in general.
“Have you ever fallen in love before?”
He grew silent for a moment. A deep breath later, he gave me a solemn look, “Do you know why I chose you for this?”
I thought on it, and shook my head. I had an inkling. There were a lot of clues confirming my suspicions, especially the adoption. I wasn’t ready to blurt my assumption out loud.
“I think…you do.”
“I’ve had two clients of the same nature. You have the advantage of already claiming all inheritance. There’s nothing that can happen to take anything away from you.”
He nodded.
“My ex was…she was kind. She understood, so we parted amicably.”
“I understand. Was there anything about her personality that drew you to her initially?”
He thought on it for a bit. Hard. Finger to his chin hard.
“She was my best friend. Still is. I don’t know if I can get along with someone who can’t be like that with me.”
“Finding someone on the same mental wavelength is difficult, especially since most of the older people in the community are still closeted,” I explained, “but I’ll try my best. What’s your age preference?”
“I wouldn’t want there to be more than five years between us.” He nodded, “I wouldn’t have agreed to such a gap in my twenties, though.”
“Mid-thirties is ideal for increasing the gap. Maturity levels become more constant.” I explained, “How do you feel?”
“A lot lighter.” He chuckled, “You’ve no idea how much easier you’ve made life for me.”
“I’m glad.” I smiled at him and patted his forearm, “Shall we finish our meal?”

I went back home that evening satisfied with my work. The rest of the process needed to be as discreet as possible, of course, but my workload had doubled because of the nature of it. But doubling it up didn’t matter to me, as long as I got Jean-Pierre together with someone he’d love to be with.
Setting a reminder to send e-mails tomorrow, I washed up and got ready for bed. Scrolling through my phone, I made sure to not miss any important messages I needed to look through.
I stopped in my tracks to stare at an e-mail I’d received whilst at dinner with Jean-Pierre. It was from Marcus with no subject. I wondered if I should even bother opening it.
“Mmh, whatever.” I decided and swiped the notification away, going straight to sleep.