Page 7 of Tattoo My Heart
I put the phone on speaker while I start my search for it.
“Let’s see here,” I start talking to myself as I scroll on the screen until I finally find what I’m looking for. “Ah-ha! There it is!”
“I can’t believe you’re actually considering this, Evie.” Carrie sounds amused more than anything else. I can tell she’s not judging me, she just wants to give me shit over it.
“You better believe it, baby,” I holler, the sound bouncing against the walls of my living room.
“You’re a nut,” she laughs. “But I love you. Make sure you put on there that you want a hot dude. The hottest.”
“Like I’d ask for anything less,” I snort. “Why would I be going through with this if I just wanted a plain looking man? He needs to stand out in a crowd full of beautiful people.”
“Ah, the Hamptons,” Carrie sighs. “The land of beautiful people. Why can’t I have that life?”
I perk up at her comments. “You want to go to this party? My mom loves you, you know that, Care. She wouldn’t have a problem with you coming.”
“As your date?” she teases me.
“Well, considering you’re part of the beautiful people club, she’d be totally okay with it,” I respond and mean it.
“You know what we should do?” She is getting excited about it now, I love it.
“What?” I can’t even imagine what crazy idea is floating through her brain.
“We should go and say that we are James’ sister wives, and now we have a baby, all three of us. And we’re raising it together.” She is almost out of breath by the time she spits it all out.
“It sounds like you gave this idea a lot of thought,” I sputter.
“Could you see their faces?” She is laughing so hard now, I can barely make out the words. “That one old lady,” she is dying laughing. “The one who looks like the chicken maid in theRobin Hoodcartoon…”
I’m laughing too, but I have no idea who she’s talking about.
“I don’t know what chicken maid you’re talking about, Care.”
“She clucks,” Carrie continues laughing. “Ow!” And now it sounds like she fell off her couch.
“Are you okay?”
I am cracking up, but mostly because she is so amused by whatever image she has in her head.
“I think I hit my head,” she snorts in laughter again right before I hear the baby crying in the background. “I have to go feed him,” she tells me. “But think about it. Chicken maid.” And now she is snort laughing again, to the point where I’m not sure if she should be allowed to take care of the baby on her own.
She hangs up and I just shake my head in a weird mix of confusion and amusement. My eyes fall back to my phone where the fake dating app is still showing. I decide to log on my laptop so I can see better what I’m dealing with.
When I finally have everything up and working, I start reading the description out loud.
“A family dinner with nosy relatives pestering you about settling down? TheHolidates appis the perfect answer to your busy lifestyle needs. With this dating app, find the perfect rental date; both parties set the terms and conditions, absolutely no string attached.”
So far, it sounds very promising, exactly what I’m looking for. I want to delve deeper into it, see what they have to offer. Unfortunately, the only way to do it is by signing up for this program.
“Ah, what the hell,” I murmur to myself and click on theCreate Accountoption. It brings up a new screen with various fields that need to be filled out.
“Name,” I call out loud. “Evelyn Moore.” I type with a flourish.
Next is age. Physical attributes like height, color of eyes and hair. We then get to the nitty gritty. They want my address and a credit card on file.
“Now give me all the hot men,” I yell at the screen once I created a username and password.
I start scrolling through the homepage to get myself familiarized with it. I find how to do a basic search, then how to add details. Very fancy indeed.
