Marcy’s Matchmakers

Marcy’s small desk lamp, mixed with the pink neon sign, “Marcy’s Matchmakers” was just enough light to make the corners of the small room visible. She sunk back in her tall black leather chair, her email inbox open on the laptop in front of her.

“I couldn’t be more grateful for your services, Marcy!-” Her hand snapped down the lid of the laptop and pushed herself away from her desk. The rain leaked in from the window sill. 

“I’ll have to fix this before spring.” She mumbled to herself. Winter was finally over and soon the Valentine’s Day rush would begin again. Every year the Lonely Hearts discount both saves and kills her. Marcy taps her pen on the sill. Mentally she doesn’t know if she can take another year of this but she can’t not do this. For financial reasons of course. The last client couldn’t pay and Marcy was fine with that. Her chequebook disagreed however and now she’s a few weeks late on rent. 

Suddenly a knock on the door sent Marcy to her feet. She opened up her laptop. 12:30 AM. Dammit, this can’t be anything good. Marcy was, if nothing else, a great judge of character. The man she leased her office from was sketchy, to say the least. For some reason though, she saw something good in him, but while alone in that very office in the middle of the night she couldn’t seem to remember what that was. 

“What can I do for ya, Mr. Manning?” She turned on all the lights in the office and fixed her hair to make her look more professional and less broke. 

“Um, sorry? Is this not Marcy’s Matchmakers?” Marcy paused in her tracks. A client? No way. It's 12:30 am on a Wednesday. This has got to be a trick of some kind. 

“Ma’am I’m sorry but you gotta make an appointment first.” She slides open the compartment underneath her desk drawer. “It’s too late anyway we’re closed.” She slowly grabs the Glock and loads it as quickly and quietly as possible. You get strange people around here at night. Then the voice of the woman picked up again on the other side. 

“I’ll pay double.” Marcy lowers the gun. She places it gently back in its compartment and slowly approaches the door. On the other side of the peephole was a lady who looked to be about Marcy’s age. Maybe younger. Her face seems familiar. Marcy lets out an audible sigh, directed towards the table of unpaid bills and fold-out couch. The one she’s been sleeping on this month to avoid her landlord. 

“Thank you for waiting, come on in,” Marcy says slightly defeated. The young woman looks around,

“What a-” Marcy watches her try to come up with a decent adjective. The lady was clearly fairly wealthy and clearly not used to this kind of establishment. “Quaint!” The lady exclaims with a chuckle. “Yeah, it’s quaint and charming.” She sits down on one of the metal fold-out chairs in front of Marcy’s desk. 

“So,” Marcy begins, sitting across from her, “How can I help you today?” Marcy eyes the lady. 

“Well isn’t it obvious?” The lady leans back in her chair dramatically, “I want to find love, true love.”

“Uh, yeah, I figured.” Marcy half sneers. She then shakes her head. This is a valued paying (emphasis on paying) client she reminds herself. “I mean, don’t we all?” Marcy laughs, pulling up a form on the screen, full of every last small detail she’d need to find anyone’s perfect match. Hasn’t really worked too well for her though. 

‘Name: Evelyn Manning’

‘Age: 24’

‘Career: Architect’ 

‘Hobbies: Tennis, Skiing’

‘Interests: Economics, fine art’

‘Sexuality: Lesbian’

“Uh, hold on a second.” Marcy pushes away the laptop. “You’re the landlord’s daughter?” She starts to slide open the drawer again just in case. Evelyn lets out an exaggerated sigh.

“Yeah.” She purses her lips, “Find me a partner and this won’t end up being a problem.” 

“What do you mean by ‘problem’ and Manning’s a common name you could’ve lied. And depending on what this ‘problem’ is maybe you should have.” Marcy watches Evelyn look up at the ceiling then back at her hands. 

“You’re late on your lease. Again.” She sighed. “Dad sent me up here to make sure this business is still profitable or ‘Ms. Conner and I are gonna have a problem’. You do realize that this is a really sketchy deal right?”  Marcy stands up and walks over to the door. 

“Thank you for your time. Listen I’ll do my best but I can't guarantee anything.” Evelyn walks over to the door.

“You seem nice but, You only get so many chances with my dad.” Evelyn's skin is flushed from the cold draft in the office and with that she turns away and walks out the door, leaving Marcy in the quiet of the office. 

The only sound was the ticking of the clock and the buzzing of the street slights. She crawled onto the futon in the corner and pulled the covers over her.

The next morning Marcy uploaded Evelyn’s information into the algorithm she designed. Marcy figured this would be an easy job but after an hour, nothing popped up. No matches. She sighed. 

“There’s gotta be someone.” She usually takes older profiles out of the algorithm but keeps track of those who are still single. She throws those in, knowing if she doesn’t find a match the landlord will have her head on a platter. She leans back and stares at the Rorschach test-esque water stains until a notification pops up on the screen,

‘1 match found’ She scrolls down,

‘Name: Marcella Conner’

‘Age: 23’

‘Career: Matchmaker’

‘Hobbies: Art, programming’

‘Interests: Art history, programming, sports’

‘Sexuality: Bi’ 

“Oh no.” Marcy quickly closes the laptop without reading the rest. She must’ve added her profile without thinking. She tries over and over, reviewing the profiles manually even. No matter what she did, she was the only match. Marcy picks up the phone.

A knock at the door brings Marcy out of her panicked haze. 

“Yeah?” She shouts. The door opens and Evelyn walks in. She’s dressed a little more business casual this time. Marcy can’t deny she looks pretty even in gray khakis. Her shirt’s buttoned tight. 

“What’s the problem?! I had to leave work for this.” Marcy pulled up Evelyn’s page. 

“I’m sorry to tell you this but the only match you had was me. I swear it was a mistake and I understand if you’re disappointed but I promise I won’t give up.” Marcy scrambles to find a piece of paper and a pencil. “Tell me EVERYTHING about you. I’ll update the-” 

“So we matched. This is fair right? This isn’t rigged in some weird way?” 

“Yeah, I would never set myself up with a client.” Marcy pulls up the program. “I’m not sure how familiar with the technology you are but-”

“No, I’m very familiar with this style. I built my firm from the ground up, that includes the website.” She looks up at Marcy, “This looks genuine.” She pulls out her card from her pocket. “Listen, meet me this Saturday at The Plaza, I’ll pay, and if it goes well I’ll keep my promise and Dad’ll keep the office open.” She goes to leave but turns again at the door, “I’m sorry about the other night, I didn’t want you to recognize me immediately so I- uh, never mind.” Evelyn shuts the door behind her. Mulling over each word Marcy checks the date. Friday. 

“Fuck.”

Saturday evening Marcy put her hair into a top knot and brushed out her bangs. The medium-length maroon dress hadn’t been worn in a few years but it was still in good condition. She took a deep breath and slid on a pair and black heels. They were a little tight but overall fine. She didn’t really have the money for a new wardrobe but this restaurant is fancy as all hell. Marcy called a taxi.

The restaurant had a line around the block, she took out her phone and sent a message to Evelyn, 

‘Out front.’ Suddenly she hears someone calling her name. A figure appears from a town car, her hair is auburn and cascading over her shoulders. Her dress is a long blue chiffon gown with an opening on the side. Let’s just say, the business was saved.