Mismatched

6. Ebony

"Absolute worst date of my life!" Zara cried, as she strode into the matchmaker's office.

Ebony looked up from her computer, swamped by a familiar sinking feeling. That feeling grew as her client sat on the other side of the desk. Zara's normally glamourous face was covered in tiny red welts! Add the dark circles under her eyes and the pallid complexion, and Ebony feared to ask more. "What happened?"

Zara fiddled with her phone. "First of all, James was so late picking me up that we lost the reservation you'd booked for us."

"Not a good start, I agree." Okay, that was one cross for James, thought Ebony, doodling a cross onto her notepad. "Please tell me you found another table?"

"We did. Half-an-hour later. As soon as we made it to our table, James began ordering from the wine list, even though I'd already told him that alcohol did bad things to me. He apologised. I could tell right away that he wasn't sincere. I should've left then, but I went to the Ladies' room to calm down. When I returned, a chocolate milkshake was waiting for me. Supposedly, it was a peace-offering."

Ebony smiled encouragingly. "Well, that doesn't sound so bad."

She scoffed. "It tasted so good that I drank the concoction in seconds. A minute later my throat felt constricted. Then came the hot flush, and then this rash!" she said, patting her lightly blistered cheeks.

"It was a cocktail?!"

Zara nodded, her eyes tearing up. "Last night I looked more hideous than this! Can you believe that?"

Ebony tried not to wince. "You don't look that bad."

"Oh, please. I look like I've got a crab shell stuck to my face."

"Maybe...a little."

Zara laughed. "At least you weren't lying when you said you were honest."

"Honesty isn't all that fun, believe me."

"That's why I've avoided all mirrors in the past twelve hours. The truth hurts."

Okay, Zara did look bad on the Zara scale. But to the rest of us, her two looked pretty good, like a case of acne on a supermodel. On an allergy-free day, Zara's ten was a blonde bombshell, with dimples and dazzling blue eyes. More than that, Zara genuinely wanted to meet a good guy, and Ebony was trying to bring that dream to fruition.

Ebony still didn't understand why this client was so hard to match. Zara as a client should have been a matchmaker's gift, which is precisely why Aunt Sage had handed Ebony the case—a way for Ebony to prove she could be a successful matchmaker. So far, Zara had been on five failed dates. Ebony's newest client, James, had seemed great during the interview, and Zara had raved about him after their first date.

That sleazy, arrogant, slime ball...

"I'm very sorry about the date, Zara." Putting on her glasses, Ebony fumbled through her client's file, checking the matching score for the woman's date the previous night. "This doesn't make sense. James was an eighty-three percent match."

"Then either your matchmaking methods or your questionnaires must be wrong, because he smiled when I got that rash. I couldn't believe it! He said he was smiling out of embarrassment, thought that when I'd said alcohol did bad things to me that I'd go a little crazy. Probably thought I'd be easier to seduce. The only nice guy there was the waiter, and he drove me to the emergency ward. But he had to return to work."

"Any chance you know the waiter's name? I'd like to thank him personally for rescuing you." And me, thought Ebony.

"Bailey, I think? I was in a state of anaphylaxis at the time. Details like that kind of slipped past me," Zara said, letting out a laugh.