chapter 8

CHAPTER NINE:

Blind Date

The attributes are just too much for describing the whole idea of BizzKiss. This social dating app has taken place in the utmost crowded area of the metropolitan city. There are big banners in every corner of the parking lot and nearby avenue of The Plaza Hotel. The entrance displays a pretty clear symbol of red lips and a pink heart entwined together, which is exactly a BizzKiss symbol.

The visitors are all mingled; can’t pretty much tell the difference between a hotel guest and a party guest, because most of them wearing similar formal attire. Men wear black suit, and women wear black dress.

Just like these two ladies who are also pretty in black already; Messie and Libby walks out from the yellow cab concurrently.

Messie’s heart pounds quickly once she arrives in front of the terrace staircase, together with Libby who seems very excited to enter the place, contrary to what she’s feeling.

“I hate this. Midtown Manhattan turns brutal,” says Messie while staring up at the huge rectangular commercial banner of BizzKiss display at the top of the building.

“This blows me away!” Libby exclaims. “I can’t believe Lisa’s relative is really serious about taking care of her startup project.”

“You can’t be serious. Are you on her side now?” Messie asks in disbelief, and then gushing “—Illama Baroque. Even her name sounds ridiculous.”

“C’mon Messie, you need to chill out, and you need to have fun,” Libby tries to be persuasive.

It’s like an emotional rollercoaster for Messie, she tries not to ruin the mood, but she really hates this social gathering. “I am… trying to have fun by looking at this crowded Plaza, and here you force me to come along.”

“A lot of people are interested in participating the beta event. If we’re not hurry, we may lose our chance there, okay—” Libby says, and then she drags her hand along to enter the door.

Once they enter the foyer of the party room, the Mambo Italiano song plays on the background, emerging an old time atmosphere for the guests.

“Damn, look at those grand food table. Makes me wants to eat everything,” Libby murmurs as they walk toward the ballroom.

They are looking at the luxurious grand food table that’s serving various menus such as lobsters, crabs, spaghetti, and a lot of candy desserts. There are also special beverage menus of wine, coffee, and an angel fountain streams with minty syrup.

“Excuse me, Miss—” a young waiter suddenly comes between them, he tries to stop them from getting to the food table, and then he talks in a polite way possible, “are you two here as participants in the blind date event?”

Messie shakes her head. “No—”

But Libby takes over the conversation, and says, “Yes! We are, please.”

“Then please come to the front desk to register yourself and fill personal data,” his hand points out at a lot of young people that has been waiting concurrently in front of the desk.

“Libby, are you crazy? There are a lot of them!” Messie panics. “There’s no way I’ll be waiting in line like a crazy desperate being—”

Libby chuckles just to ignore her insecurity, and ready to drag her along, “Please, just follow me, okay.”

They spend almost thirty minutes alone for waiting their turn to fill the form, and afterwards, one of the hosts invites both of them to enjoy their time in the party while they will have to wait for the next announcement.

During the opening party, people are being very noisy; they are talking, dancing, drinking, and even eating candy dessert.

Messie feels restless since they enter the place. She doesn’t actually like social gathering, or particularly meeting the eyes of strangers, which sort of makes her paranoid now, remembering the idea that someone is currently stalking her.

It’s this same guy again who keeps on calling her phone. He makes her insecure. He never leaves a message which is strange, it’s like he literally needs to hear her voice, and so he leaves the never-ending missed calls. Because of that, she renames his number on her phone as Crazy Stalker, that may suit him better.

She keeps on checking between her phone and the sea of people in this luxurious ballroom. Her eyes are scanning the room, being paranoid again after he just leaves another missed call on her phone.

“What are you doing?” Libby notices her restless face.

“Just… you know, this crazy lunatic inmate Penpal that I once told you, he keeps calling my phone,” Messie says.

“Shit. That’s scary. Can’t you just block his number and get over it?” Libby suggests.

Messie pauses for a second, hesitating on the idea, “Should I do that?”

The couple male and female hosts gather together as they begin announcing the detail of the event, standing in the middle of the ballroom among the crowd. They introduce the procedure of the blind date, which is the beta event of BizzKiss social dating app, and the participants require to download the BizzKiss app in their smartphone before continuing on the social event.

Of course, Messie gushes over the unnecessary procedure since she thinks it’s such a waste of time. She keeps on pouting since the very beginning, looking disinterested during the party.

But then, the next procedure is the most thing she has ever imagined before, that she’s right to the point; names will be picked up randomly through the app. This is the most thing she hates, because she can’t predict the unexpected, and couples of people are chosen based on algorithm. However, the hosts convince that the names will be picked based on personal data uploaded on the app, such as similar hobby, interest, and other stuff.

Her eyes scan the room to see random faces participate in this event. Most of them looks boring for her taste, until she finds a face smiles like a complete lunatic toward her. And he’s right there among other guests. The crazy Repo man names Dan Jacob stands like a dwarf among the tall people, he wears a set of black suit and tie.

Messie gasps in surprise, then she mutters, “Oh, God, great. I told you Libby, something’s fishy in this party.”

“What?” Libby bewilders, but when she follows her gaze to find that Repo man already waves his hand at them, she gasps surprisingly. “Shit! No. Is that the psychotic Repo man?”

“Can’t be more than true,” Messie adds.

“Just be easy. I’m sure he’s not even close to share anything in particular with you. The app won’t pair you with someone like him. Trust me—” Libby’s panic, as if it’s not Messie she’s trying to calm down, but herself.

The hosts clap their hands, and they start instructing the participants to take a seat at any table available for the first round.

“Good, we can sit at the same table,” Libby looks nervous.

Messie follows her to sit along. There are six chairs at every rectangular table covers with a white sheet, reserved for three random couples that will be sitting together.

There’s an average looking male, sitting in front of a female participant who wears braces and eyeglasses at their table. Then in no second, a very handsome man in his late twenties pulls a chair in front of Messie.

Almost all the girls in the room stare at him boldly, like he’s some kind of a product that’s currently wanted by most people. Some girls whisper while still staring intentionally at him, and others have been talking about his looks that reminds them with the combination of actors between Alex Pettyfer and Joel Kinnaman.

“Gosh, look at that. Is he an actor or something?” Libby whispers at her ear, while stealing a glance at the most wanted man in the room that now sitting exactly in front of them.

Messie notices his presence just now, and surely, no one looks as noticeable as he is in the room. He has a perfect facial feature, and a strong jawline that could almost cut an apple in two. And it is sort of awkward to be seated in front of someone with that kind of distracting looks.

Messie whispers back in her ear, “Look at those girls instead, just silly—”

But before she finishes her sentence, just like a thunder jumps in their sight, Dan Jacob slides himself among the crowd to sit at their table.

“Hello, ladies,” he smiles widely, and it’s almost like his teeth shine, as if they’re watching a toothpaste commercial break.

He sits in the middle, exactly in front of Libby since the seat next to him is already taken by a handsome man in black suit.

“Oh, My God, isn’t this the crazy Repo man who got kicked out from my rooftop party the other day? What a shame!” Libby intents to say it out loud, embarrassing him in front of people.

“My darling, you can’t actually beat around the bush in here. Forget the past already,” he says peevishly, and then he turns to see Messie softly, “I’m really prepare for this blind date, knowing my Juliet is in here.”

Messie still gives him a disgusting look since they sit at this same table.

“How do you know Messie’s here if you’re not a psycho stalker?” Libby asks bewilderingly, and then at the same time, a man next to Dan get coughed from drinking a glass of water.

“Uh, are you alright, man?” Dan asks emphatically.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he sighs, and his voice sounds cold.

Even though he looks very handsome and fine, something about his familiar vibe bothers Messie. He looks very ignorant, as if he’s not actually into this stuff, as if he’s being forced to join the event. The idea reminds her, that she’s also coming to the party because Libby forces her to.

“Alright, so…” Dan Jacob starts again, “The offer is still up in the air, Miss Denver. With opportunity like this is even better for both of us. We get to know each other, and…”

“Please, dream on it,” Messie shouts cynically.

“Exactly—” Libby adds, “it doesn’t mean you will get pair with her just because you force yourself to sit at this same table with Messie.”

Dan clears his throat, then he tries to present his nerdy explanation to the ladies, “The algorithm works like a rhythm. It chooses the target based on similar data, and thus, by sitting at the same table will increase the chance that I can be paired with my beautiful darling, Miss Messie Denver.”

“That’s so nerdy,” Libby chuckles.

“Isn’t there like anyone else in your life, that you can bother with?” Messie shouts over. “I barely know you. And for a fact, I don’t give a crap.”

Libby chuckles, and adds, “And yeah, you’re not really that good looking, so please—”

“Suit yourself, my darling,” he says in a very strange demeanor that gives them the creeps.

The first round will let everyone to take a seat at any table available, and opens the opportunity to engage with others for the first ten minutes before the hosts take their microphones and give an instruction on the next procedure.

Ten minutes feels long and lame when they have to sit in front of the psycho Repo man, who keeps smiling widely, and in a strange way that actually frighten almost all the girls he comes across today. And finally, the hosts instruct the participants to get ready for the second round, where couples will be paired randomly based on their given number from the BizzKiss app.

It doesn’t take long for the app to generate numbers for a table and a participant’s name. Messie peeps at her phone, and then at the table number holder, which is exactly the same.

“It’s the same table. I got table 13. What’s yours?” Messie asks, peeping at Libby’s phone.

“Wait, we’re not together?” She sounds upset. “I’m table 4.”

“Isn’t that great? We’re just a pair made from heaven.” Dan shouts, distracting them.

“Yeah, but the name is different, you nerd—” Messie says, showing off her screen phone to him, where the participant’s name appears clearly.

“No, no, no, that’s—” Dan seems agitated, then he looks back at his phone to confirm, and then to Messie. “Who the hell is Joey Marque?”

The man next to him pretends to clear his throat, then shouts, “That’s me, unfortunately.”

“Oh, man—” he looks very disappointed at first, but he gathers his senses again before he sits closer to him, and whispers, “let’s swap our number, Mister. This is very important to me, as you see—”

For a second, that handsome man takes his phone again to reread what’s written on the app, and then he looks at Dan with his charismatic solemn honey-brown eyes.

“It considers cheating, don’t you think?” He asks. “But sorry man, I’m not interested to swap my number with you.”

Libby and Messie chuckles concurrently, they can’t resist from seeing the view where Dan Jacob gets embarrassed.

But seemingly, he still tries to persuade him, “Dude, I need this. You have to give me your number. How much do you want? I’ll pay you—”

“You’ll get disqualify if you do that, you fool,” Libby shouts.

“So, say; I’m a desperate man,” he says, lifting his eyebrows in a strange way that shudders Libby.

“I don’t need your money, man. Just leave your seat, will you? I see you got table 5?” Joey says.

The hosts already remind everyone to hurry exchange a seat. There’s not much time, and Dan Jacob has to give up, he sadly nods before he raises up from his chair to leave them, along with that female with braces, and also the male participant. After making sure he’s gone for good, Libby can leave Messie peacefully to seek for table 4.

Once again, Messie peeps at her phone to check on the app.

BizzKiss

Table 13. Joey Marque.

Somehow, the name rings a bell, but if that’s too silly to think, she wouldn’t like to give it much thought. It can’t be, although his name sort of reminds her with the inmate she once connected with in a Penpal program.

She just keeps having these nightmarish thoughts about any possibility of being paranoid. She sometimes imagines someone spies on her, like if there are invisible eyes somewhere in the room about to pop.

Until her phone rings again; it’s him. She tries so hard to ignore the idea that he ever exists in the first place. Her finger slides the reject button on her touch screen phone agilely. And her eyes start scanning the room again, carefully this time.

There are currently hundred party guests in this ballroom, and she keeps imagining if he may be somewhere among the crowd. She thinks insanely; if that same ex-inmate is really here, he will likely wait outside to kidnap her after the party. That maybe too psycho to think.

“You look nervous.”

The masculine voice says, distracting her silent reverie. She stares away from the empty white plate to stare at the man in front of her.

“Oh, I…” Messie almost loses her own words, she doesn’t know how to make an excuse, “No, it’s just this whole party idea kind of excessive for me. I feel a bit lost in time.”

“Is it because of him?” He asks, ignoring her excuse.

Messie agapes in surprise. She almost answers him wrong when her mind still hovers to the thought of that ex-inmate.

“Why?” He asks again. “Is there someone following you or something?”

It’s like her heart get struck by a lightning bolt, and then she laughs awkwardly at the same time a new couple arrive at the table to sit next to them.

“Oh, that crazy man Dan Jacob? Absolutely not,” she almost bursts into laughter. “He’s no big deal—”

“You thought there’s someone else? A stalker maybe?” He keeps on guessing. “Well, I sense your nerve-wrecking emotion, Miss Messie Denver.”

When he says her name, his voice sounds familiar. It’s like she has heard that masculine tone somewhere before, that sort of manly romantic voice, or maybe from the chick flick movies she’s been watching this entire weekend.

He continues to speak with that heavy manly voice. “It doesn’t explain why you want to be in this event so much if you’re not feeling comfortable.”

“Oh, I’d like to ask the same thing. You seem disinterested in this blind date too,” Messie talks back daringly.

“I’m actually trying to get away from my mom since yesterday. So, I thought she won’t find me here.”

She wants to ask further about his mom, but it’s too personal when they just barely meet. She knows that of course, working as a peer therapist has a perk that she can read into people’s emotion, so she can respect their privacy.

“Okay. I hope we can work this out. The blind date,” Messie half smiles.

The waiters separate their way to escort a tray full of delicious food and fresh beverage to all tables. Messie’s eyes wide awake when a waiter brings her a plate of Salmon Tuna Salad and non-alcoholic red wine. It’s all so much she can ask for a luxurious party. It’s been a long time she hasn’t eaten anything expensive since all her bills arrive at her mailbox.

“You seem excited now. That’s a hell ride of mood swing,” he says, staring at her face.

“I should make the best of this party,” Messie says before tasting a spoon of the salad.

The hosts start speaking again, they tell the participants about the current procedure of this second round; all the couples are free to have a conversation for an hour during the dinner, and then, in the last round, everyone is free to decide whether they will accept or pass the date.

“It’s like that Take Me Out TV Show, except that we’re having a tasty dinner at this very expansive hotel,” Messie murmurs while eating her salad.

“Not so bad, I think. Not everyone has a chance to enjoy the luxury of life.”

When he mentions it, Messie slowly puts down her spoon to stare at him. She sighs for a second, and she notices that he hasn’t touched his food at all.

He looks at her wonderingly. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, it’s just… you’re right. This is everything I’ve ever wanted, but I’m afraid you would think I’m a shallow person,” Messie says carefully. “Anyway, you’re not really here for the blind date, so I guess it doesn’t matter if I don’t look cool in front of you…”

“You can’t actually define how shallow a person is, by the look of a first impression. There’s more to it sometimes,” he sounds like a very old man just now, and he looks too calm to be a man in his late twenties.

“How old are you?” Messie wonders.

“Almost 28,” he says. “It seems I lost a track of time myself.”

She chuckles along with him.

“What I meant—you can’t actually judge people before you really know them. Sometimes what looks tough from the outside, may look soft from the inside,” he continues explaining about his opinion, “I tend to meet people like that. Our judgment could go all wrong.”

“You’re messed up,” Messie chuckles alone, and other participants at their table glance at both of them.

“Maybe, the society is the one that really messed up. They complicate the behavioral system by complimenting genius people, exclusive people, and forgetting that the minority really needs the attention too.”

Messie smiles awkwardly as she gets confused, “Okay, what the hell are you talking about? We’re here now where the society listen to you—”

“Alright, the blind date idea?” He leans closer to the table, and then he whispers “—suck.”

Messie can’t believe he actually says that.

“You don’t get to choose who you’d like to date here—the app already settles that for you. And if you don’t like it, you can restart, but they will request your payment for the reservation, which eventually will make a loss of your wallet.”

Messie agapes. She just literally doesn’t know him at all.

“How do you know the app will require you to pay?” She has heard the other day when her co-workers talked about the cons of BizzKiss, that the startup generates money from conducting the social event, which is not entirely free.

“Just, let’s say I know how things work,” he says, then shrugging his shoulders conceitedly.

“Alright, so let’s say you’re not so into this stuff, and yet you come alone,” Messie says deliberately. “I know you’re gonna pass on me.”

He raises one of his thick eyebrows. “You want me too?”

Her jaw falls flat again and again, he always surprises her. She doesn’t expect him to say so.

“Oh, you’re not gonna do that?” Messie bewilders, and as she eats the last spoon of the tasty salad, she says again, “I thought this party bored you already.”

The rest of the dinner is going pretty well for most participants. The hosts clap their hands, disturbing the fun time everyone has. They announce the third round will be conducted soon. The waiters take all the dirty plates and glasses, replace them with a small paper and a pen for each participant.

Everyone’s heart races during this time, since the third round is the end of this blind date. The hosts instruct the participants to write their answer on the paper, whether the date shall go on or pass.

The clock is ticking. The participants start writing, and then the hosts command them to show the paper to their partner.

Messie’s heart pounds quickly. She knows better what to expect, and she knows he’s just too good and too quirky for her. He’s too handsome, and maybe too rich, judging from the look of his perfect appearance. Maybe he’s not into her, and she doesn’t want to embarrass herself later if she says yes.

They smile at each other when the tension is really in the air. As they flip the paper on the table at the same time, Messie squints at his paper, and she’s right. Somehow, she’s disappointed, but she knows.

He writes the same answer as she is.

Pass.

But it’s not the answer she feels complicated with, but the handwriting looks familiar, and so does everything about him. It can’t be, and she won’t guess it. She has enough time of being paranoid since the day she heard the news that ex-inmate is released from jail.

She still imagines that ex-inmate as someone with a fat belly, and not pretty much good looking, and maybe he has a very annoying expression, and just everything contrary to this handsome guy in front of her.

Seeing Joey Marque is like déjà vu for her. But if it’s not déjà vu feeling that she senses, then what it is?