1
Number fifteen couldn’t be any worse than the first fourteen men she’d tried.
Rachel Taylor pressed the fast-forward button on the screen, skimming past the dating service’s introductions before pausing the video at the end of the blur of pink and purple advertisement. A heavily featured, but handsome man, stared back at her from the screen. Maybe things were looking up.
“Yo, babes. I’m Vinnie Fetachelli.”
Rachel groaned then glanced to her friend to see whether her reaction to the exuberant greeting was equally disbelieving. Genie’s hand had stopped in mid-air, popcorn forgotten. When her gaze met Rachel’s, Rachel couldn’t help but grin. “Told ya, this would be better than watching The Bachelorette.”
The dark-haired, brown-eyed man on the video from the Date-Your-Mate online dating service, continued introducing himself in an abrupt, staccato voice betraying his Bronx-Italian origins.
“Yooze...,” he said, aiming his forefingers at his audience, “...should go wit me...” now pointing his thumbs at his chest, “... ’cause I know how to treat a babe right.”
“Is this guy for real?” Rachel watched dumbfounded.
“Shhh, shhh, listen,” Genie said, shoulders shaking. She wiped tears from the corners of her eyes.
On the screen, Vinnie Fetachelli was looking down at a paper. “Occ-u-pa-tion...” Frowning, he glanced back up and shifted to the side in his seat. He appeared to be looking at something behind the camera. “Yo, lady. What’s that mean?”
From out of view of the camera, came a faint female voice. “Job—Mr. Fetachelli—job.”
“Oh, yeah, right, I knew dat.”
He straightened, and stared directly at them once more.
“Me and my family own a deli, called Fetachelli Deli. Family business, if ya know what I mean.” He gave them a sly smile and a wink.
Rachel snorted then surrendered to a fit of the giggles. It was nervous laughter, but it was better to laugh than to cry.
“Oh, my God. Fetachelli Deli, what a hoot.” Genie gasped, holding her sides as Vinnie looked once more at the paper.
“Hobby? I like to watch wrestling, boxing and da races. I’m not picky on da type of races. I like horse, car and dog races–-anyt’ing I can place a bet on. But don’t worry—I rarely lose. And if I did, my family’d take care of me, if ya know what I mean.”
“Oh, my God, he’s with the Mafia,” Genie exclaimed dramatically. “Rachel, what on earth did you tell them you wanted when you filled out their online quiz?”
Rachel frowned and tapped the pause button. “I simply told them I wanted someone who was healthy and...um, well...healthy.”
“That’s it?” Genie’s voice rose. “You didn’t ask the agency to match you with a compatible personality? Or to have them screened for a minimal intelligence level? Rache, you should at least have asked them to check for rap sheets. Heavens, don’t they automatically do background checks?”
Sniffing, Rachel raised her chin a notch. “I didn’t think it was important for my purpose, and frankly I didn’t think about rap sheets.”
“Not important—are you nuts? This guy could be connected, ‘if ya know what I mean’,” Genie said, mimicking Vinnie’s accent. “And you don’t think that’s important?”
Rachel took a deep breath, striving for calm. “Now, Genie, we don’t know that he’s Mafia. It’s rather nice that he has such a supportive family. You’re letting your imagination run away with you. Besides, I think he’s kind of cute.”
Pressing PLAY, Rachel ignored Genie’s exasperated glare and pretended interest in whatever gem of wisdom Vinnie mumbled as he continued his monologue.
“Expectations...”
A female voice in the background prompted him, “What do you want in a woman?”
Vinnie shrugged. “Da chick I go wit has to look good on my arm, so da other guys can see what a babe she is when I take her out.”
The computer screen turned black as the interview ended. Rachel clicked to minimize the online video and leaned forward to take two more sheets of paper from the stack sitting on the coffee table. “Here, let’s fill out these evaluation forms. After we watch all the interviews and complete the evaluations, I’ll enter the information into a spreadsheet.”
“I still can’t believe you made up an evaluation form to help you choose your date.”
“Are you going to help me or not?” Rachel asked impatiently. “We have three more videos to review from the dating service. I want to be as objective about this as possible.”
“Okay, okay. Don’t get your panties in a wad,” Genie wiped butter from the popcorn off her fingers. “Give me that paper.” Grabbing a pen, she began to mark the sheet.
Rachel tapped her own pen thoughtfully against her lip as she read through the questions. Some were straightforward questions about physical attributes like hair and eye color, that required an A through D answer. The rest were subjective, and asked for rankings between one and five. Questions like, “Does this candidate appear athletic?” or “Does the candidate give the impression of mental stability?” Rachel congratulated herself on devising a clinical and objective list of questions. They would help narrow the search for the perfect candidate considerably.
Genie slapped her form on the coffee table. “I’ve gotta hand it to you, Rache” she said wonderingly. “You’re the only person I know who could reduce the characteristics of physical attraction to a multiple-choice test.”
Rachel grimaced. She knew her friend wasn’t about to let another opportunity to nag pass her by. Genie wasn’t wild about her plan. One look in Genie’s sympathetic gaze and Rachel thought, Oh boy, here it comes.
“Rachel, won’t you reconsider?” Genie pleaded. “This just doesn’t seem right. Your plan doesn’t take into consideration the human factors. I mean, just look at all the candidates we’ve gone through tonight. Tell me there’s even one guy you would feel comfortable hopping into bed with, hmmm?”
Dotting the last ‘i’ and crossing the last ‘t’ on her evaluation form, Rachel delayed answering. Instead, she picked up her planner and checked Vinnie’s name off her list then looked at her best friend. “Genie, the simple fact is, I’m determined to have a child. I’m thirty years old, and in all my time on this earth, I’ve never found a man I would like to be tied to for the rest of my life. I need a child, but I don’t necessarily want the complications of a husband.”
“But those can be the best complications in life,” Genie said softly, her brown eyes reflecting her concern.
“Maybe for women who have the time and patience. I have neither that I’m willing to lavish on a man. I want to concentrate all my attention on a baby.” Rachel searched for the next name on her list. “I’ve made up my mind. This is the only solution that makes sense for me. Shall we continue?” she asked, without looking up from her notebook. She heard Genie sigh.
“Just let me finish my evaluation of the Italian Noodle.”
“The Italian Noodle?” Rachel’s eyebrows raised, and she couldn’t resist turning to face her friend.