It’s ten minutes past 11:00 a.m., and Harper still hasn’t arrived for her session. Is it possible I scared her off for good with Bennett or she already found someone using ZodiaCupid? Did I miss an email about her canceling? In a panic, I google small business loans. Dozens of links populate the page, and I scan over topics like fixed assets and working capital.
I log in to the online banking dashboard to check on Lunar Love’s financial health. The numbers have dropped, even with the addition of Harper and a few others. Social media and the live podcast episode have drawn some attention, but they’re still not converting enough clients.
I lower my head into my arms, racking my brain for ideas. I remember Pó Po’s offer to loan Lunar Love part of her savings, but I can’t accept that. There’s something there, though. I log in to my own bank account and do some budgeting and calculations. If I significantly cut back on going out to eat, don’t buy new clothes, and limit travel for the next few years, I could invest my own savings into the business and still be able to make rent on my apartment. Barely, but it’s doable. It would be owner’s equity. Not a lot of owner’s equity, but enough to cover the past-due bills and the ones for next month.
I initiate a transfer and watch my personal savings drop down to a terrifying new low. I’m betting big on Lunar Love. I should put my money where my mouth is.
As I’m on the verge of having a full-blown panic attack, the front door swings open. Harper!
“I’m sorry I’m so late. My previous meeting ran long, but the good news is we locked in that client I was telling you about.” Harper exhales a happy sigh as she settles into the chair in the session room.
After a flood of cancellations, I’m just thrilled she showed up at all. “Congrats! That’s exciting.”
“Their social media presence is not great right now, but we’re going to turn it around. Speaking of, I noticed you joined the world of social media. Welcome! Your last tweet was great. I like that you’re keeping the messages true to who you are as a business. Don’t lose that.”
“Thanks. Coming from you, that means a lot,” I say, relieved on many different levels. We just need that content to result in sign-ups. “Let’s start by talking about Bennett. I know you said on the phone that he’s not what you’re looking for. Can you elaborate on that? For my learning purposes.” Saying his name out loud feels revealing, as though I may have said it too affectionately.
Harper adjusts the waistline of her jeans and props her left calf under her right thigh, getting comfortable before divulging her emotions.
“I understand why you paired me with him. He’s confident, opinionated, enjoys good food, and is easy to talk to,” she reports.
I maintain a neutral expression. I’ve made out with one of my clients’ matches. One of my clients’ dates! The word professional doesn’t exist in my vocabulary. I’m a complete fraud.
“But…” She trails off.
“But what?” I grip my pen tighter.
“He wouldn’t stop talking about you!” Harper says with one raised eyebrow.
I wrinkle my nose. “I hope my being there didn’t dominate the conversation. I shouldn’t have shown up like that.”
“No, I didn’t mind that. I mean, he kept bringing you up in conversation. Whether he was aware of it, who knows, but he did.”
“I’ll have to discuss first-date etiquette with him,” I mumble, scribbling into my notepad. “So just to confirm, you don’t want another date with him?” I hold my breath in anticipation.
Harper grins. “You think I missed that last date on accident?”
I eye her doubtfully. “Did you not?”
“It’s like I said last time, the matchmaker needs, well, a matchmaker,” she says with a wink.
“I see.” I’m the matchmaker here, but I can’t be upset at a paying client.
“We grabbed lunch last week to work out some details. He had a whole plan. It was so sweet. I could tell there was something between you two at the dumpling festival,” Harper says matter-of-factly.
“Oh, no,” I say, shaking my head. My jaw clenches as I process what she’s told me. Bennett maneuvered me to get what he wanted: a date. How else has he manipulated me?
“And here I was thinking you only did strictly compatible matches. Aren’t you a Horse?”
I sit upright in my chair. “We do. Conflicting traits can pose real problems sometimes. A lot of misunderstandings, opposing opinions and values, qualities that might be endearing at first but end up being dealbreakers. Compatibility is tried and true. That doesn’t mean perfect, because nothing is, but it’s like mixing butter and sugar together for a cake. Incompatibility is like mixing butter and salt. Sure, someone might like that flavor combination, but when you eat enough of it, that cake’s going to make you feel not so good,” I say, starting to ramble. It’s starting to get exhausting defending the core of our business that no one but me seems to care about anymore.
“Got it. At the end of the day, I want someone nice who I can go to Italy with and gorge on endless pounds of pasta together. Is that so much to ask?” Harper asks with a laugh.
I guess for her that nice, pasta-loving person won’t be Bennett. A surge of relief runs through me.
“You and me both,” I tell her. At the thought of pasta, my mental rolodex flips to Parker T., the Rooster I matched with on ZodiaCupid. He loves Italian food, and if he likes historical landmarks, then he probably enjoys traveling. The hours aren’t great as a restaurant owner, though they’re typically better than a chef’s hours, so I won’t rule him out. If Harper doesn’t want Bennett, it’s on to the next.
But Parker’s a Rooster. If I can find out his birth hour, there might be a chance his ascendant aligns with Harper’s Dragon sign. I’ll message him on the app and find out, reveling in the irony of Lunar Love poaching ZodiaCupid’s clients. That’s what they get for invading our territory.
As soon as Harper leaves, I open ZodiaCupid and scroll through my matches until I find Parker’s name. I start typing and hit Send on the message before overthinking it.
A light pink swipe-through instruction panel pops up with illustrated peonies in the background, catching me off guard. Bennett went through with gamifying the app. Despite our conversation at breakfast and his saying he wanted to rethink things, I guess I didn’t make a convincing enough case to scrap the feature.
I hover over Bennett’s profile, recollecting his peony count. How much higher is it now? I press my thumb to the screen and soak up the information that appears. Apparently much higher. My stomach tumbles over itself. Who else has he been seeing and talking to besides me? In this moment, the past becomes my present. I can’t be hurt again. Not like this. Not by him. I’m nobody’s pawn.
To take my mind off Bennett, I click into one of our most recent tweets to respond to a comment. One person tweets asking if he can change his sign to a Dragon because it sounds cooler. I type up a friendly response informing him that all clients must be their real sign in order to find true compatibility. We’re not in the position to be turning paying clients away, but that’s just ridiculous. I check the numbers and see that the latest moon song pairing has over three hundred retweets. As much as I try to push Bennett out, in the back of my head I can practically hear him gloating about how useful data is. In a message, someone asks what our process and rates are. It’s small, but it’s something.
I lean back in my chair, close my eyes, and listen to the sounds of Lunar Love. There’s a low murmur outside from the afternoon crowds, sporadic creaks from the building, and the sound of my own heartbeat, which feels like it hasn’t stopped racing since I took over the business.
The locals and tourists passing by in front of our window catch my eye, and I notice a woman’s pastel lilac suit. Carol? Not today. Not now. But she’s not alone. She comes bearing clients. Probably developers. I completely forgot to respond to her email. What else am I forgetting?
Carol strides down the path to Lunar Love. Her two clients catch up to her, the three of them walking side by side as Carol gestures excitedly at the building. I first notice red plastic glasses. Elmer? Is that Bennett next to him?
I jump up from my seat. Bennett’s here. Here. At Lunar Love. The nerve of that man.
I open the door and stand with my hands on my hips, blocking the entryway. “Can I help you?” I direct my question to Bennett.
Bennett offers a firm smile. “Hey, sorry! Ignore us. We’re leaving.” He calls out to Carol and Elmer, “Hey! We’re not going in there.”
Carol waves her hand toward the building. “I emailed you last week that I was bringing clients by,” she says to me, lugging the same bag, different color, up her arm. Poppy pops up from the depth of the purse and yips. “I never heard back from you but assumed it was okay. We won’t be long.”
To Bennett’s credit, he actually looks annoyed. He could win an Academy Award for that level of commitment. “I didn’t know this was the building she was talking about. We’re on our way to the next one,” he says to me. He’s wearing a button-down with the sleeves rolled up, a business casual type of handsome. As he leans in for a hug, I swing my arm around for a side pat, my brain fortunately taking over before my body has a chance to. By the way Bennett angles his body, I can tell it’s awkward for both of us.
“Right,” I say disbelievingly. “You just follow her around without asking any questions?”
“This was a last-minute addition,” he says.
I don’t know what to believe anymore. “A week is last-minute?”
“Elmer’s in charge of coordinating the new office tours,” he explains. “We have five that we’re looking at, and this was on the way. I didn’t know it was Lunar Love, I swear.”
Carol taps her foot. “Well, fine, okay. Let’s go to the next one, if you’re sure. But this place is really special,” she says, walking down the path away from our building. “We’ll let you know if we change our mind.”
Elmer pushes past Bennett. “I’d like to take a look,” he says, his red glasses framing his smug eyes. “You came to our office to snoop around. Now it’s our turn.”
I wait for an explanation from Bennett.
“He wasn’t too thrilled about learning who you really are,” Bennett reveals in a low tone. “I honestly didn’t know she was bringing us here.”
I remind myself of the information I just learned. We’re on my turf. I extend my arms out under Lunar Love’s pink doorframe. No one’s getting past me.
Elmer peeks around my head to see inside. “Those walls could be knocked down. There’s so much potential!” he says like he’s trying to be provocative.
Alisha pokes her head out of the back office. “We have company, I see!” she says, strolling over to us. I drop one of my arms to let her pass. “Bennett up close in the flesh. Man, I wish Randall wasn’t on lunch break so he could witness this.”
Bennett extends a hand. “And you must be?”
Alisha purses her lips. “Olivia, glad you’re speaking so highly of me,” she says with mock annoyance. “I’m Alisha, Olivia’s matchmaker-in-crime.”
“Great to meet you,” he says with a smile.
I shouldn’t have filled Alisha in on everything because the look she gives me in front of Bennett is a clear giveaway. He notices, and a small laugh through his nose comes out.
“When was the last time that carpet was replaced?” Elmer asks, peeking through one of the windows.
“Oh, let’s see,” I say, pretending to take his question seriously, “sometime between the first moon landing and when the Spice Girls broke up.”
Alisha grabs my arm. “Now that was a sad year.”
Elmer rolls his eyes and continues to critique the space. “First thing I’d do is get rid of all the pink and red.”
My jaw drops at his audacity. “Don’t get too comfortable,” I call out to Elmer with an edge in my voice. “We’re not for sale.” I look up at Bennett. “You know we’re not for sale, right? Because we’re definitely not for sale.” My chest feels heavy with the pressure of feeling like Lunar Love is being kicked out both physically and digitally.
Bennett nods quickly. “I know that. Elmer, let’s go. I’m sorry about all this.”
“Since when did he become your business partner anyway?” I nod toward Elmer, who won’t let up.
“He’s not my business partner, but he does like to involve himself,” Bennett says, shrugging. He leans over to whisper to me, “He’s surprisingly ill-mannered for a Rabbit.”
I resist laughing at his joke, forcing the corner of my lips down and out of a smile. I resume a stoic expression and assertive posture.
Alisha watches Elmer carefully. “You know, I may have a great match for him.”
“Keep our clients away from him,” I say sternly. “We have a reputation to maintain.”
“I heard that!” Elmer says, finally breaking his gaze through the window.
“Okay, I’m in the middle of date planning. Fantastic meeting you, Bennett, or should I say B.O.B.?” Alisha says, winking at me before heading back to the office.
Bennett laughs as heat rises in my cheeks. “So you’re telling people about me?” He takes a step closer.
I avoid making eye contact with him. It never ends well. “She helped me solidify the details of your date with Harper. She deserved context,” I explain in a professional tone.
“I’ll accept that,” Bennett says.
“Clearly you’re talking about me, too, but not in a good way,” I say, nodding toward Elmer.
Bennett smiles, one corner of his mouth pulled higher. It’s infuriating. “I save my best words for talking about you.”
Internally, I roll my eyes and smile unconvincingly. After everything I learned today, he almost feels like a stranger. But then I think about the past few weeks and I’ve never felt closer to anyone.
“Hey, I don’t know if you got the email about the Halloween party ZodiaCupid is hosting on Saturday for all beta testers, but I’d love for you to be there,” Bennett says. “Would that be weird?”
“I’ll have to look at my calendar,” I say coldly. I’m not in the mood to run into other women he might be going out on dates with. Somewhere along the way, we became too friendly. Lunar Love and ZodiaCupid are not friends. An alarm of panic rings through me when I remember that I agreed to call off our bet in a moment of passion. From now on, I need to only make important deals on solid ground.
“I really hope you’ll be there. It’s come-as-your-animal-sign.”
“Cute,” I say, unsmiling.
He leans over. “Is everything okay?”
I put on a happy face. “Fine. Everything’s fine.”
I gave up press, potential clients, and proving Lunar Love’s efficacy for what? So that I could freely kiss my competitor? Was everything just an elaborate ruse? Worse, did I fall for it? He did work with Harper to manipulate the situation. To date me. So that he could prove me wrong? I don’t know what to think or believe anymore. Especially now that Bennett is here in front of me, shopping for buildings—including ours—for his copycat business. But hey, I’m totally fine.
“Alrighty!” Carol sings from the end of the pathway. “Thanks a billion, Olivia. We’ll be in touch.”
“Nope,” I call out after her.
“This is a fine place you got here,” Elmer says. “Maybe I saw some documents through the window, maybe I didn’t.”
“Sorry again,” Bennett mouths. “I hope I see you soon.”
I walk him to the edge of the welcome mat. “We’ll see. And do me a favor and remind Carol that we are not for sale,” I say, accentuating every last word.
I unconsciously slam the door shut, rattling a framed photo on the wall of me, Pó Po, and Auntie outside of Lucky Monkey Bakery. Our arms are wrapped around each other, and we’re laughing. We all look so young, so happy, so innocent.