Marie was 22 years old. She was 22 years old, spent hours studying, had no social life, and lived in an expensive, but now falling apart old apartment. The plumbing in her flat needed work and the electrician had yet to even return her call. Sure, the apartment had potential and it was paid for since her father had left it to her after his death. But that was before her mother had died just three months later. The beginning of that year had begun with such promise. All things once bright and worth looking forward to suddenly dulled and retreated in her mind as “would have been.”

Staring into her bathroom mirror Marie realized that she hated just about every aspect of her life right then.

“Good grief.” She sadly sighed.

Marie raised her arms to stretch, yawned and muttered. “I hate my life.”

She dropped her arms to her sides and yawned again. It was Thursday and at 10:00 a.m. that morning she was to be in court. Yes, yet another case. She glanced over her shoulder at the clock through the open door into her bedroom: 9:03 a.m. Sighing again, she closed the bathroom door and proceeded to undress for what would probably be another ice cold shower.

­­­­­

In a brightly lit bedroom, beneath a tangle of sheets and comforter, a diminutive mobile rang and vibrated fiercely. Diagonally opposite of the bed, a man of 25 years, medium build, and at least six feet in height, threw belongings and plowed through the mess in his room in a frustrating search for the phone device.

“Damned – thing – Simon – never again!” He yelled whilst tossing objects across the room, clearly irritated. “Fuck! Where is that phone?!”

This was Vincent and he was not having the best morning thus far. In fact, his morning was –

“Ridiculously annoying!” He screamed at the object he’d just grabbed from under a shelf. He had just found a phone, but it wasn’t the one that was ringing. This phone wasn’t even functioning, in fact.

Vincent stood up to full height for a second and huffed loudly. He was in New York for one reason: business. Why in the world did he not remember to place his phone in its dock the night before?

Right. Vincent remembered. He was drunk the night before. And yes, that Erica woman didn’t help – especially when she and him. . . Well, you know. She was drunk, too.

“I’m screwed and hungover.” Vincent sighed, massaging his throbbing temples.

Vincent squinted his eyes, surveyed his destroyed room, and spotted his black trench coat hanging on the back of his bathroom door. This prompted him to remember he still needed to stay on task and should dress quickly.

The phone had stopped ringing.

“Fuck.”

He stormed across the room, yanked a suit out of his closet, entered his bathroom, and slammed the door behind him.

­­­­­

It was raining in Manhattan when Vincent exited his three - story apartment early that Thursday afternoon. He kneeled to pat the gun strapped to his ankle and ensured its security on his leg.

When Vincent stood again, he raised his eyes to the grey sky and smirked as drops of acid rain splattered on his face. His day might have started slowly, but it would pick up very soon. He was sure he would find his phone eventually, but until then, any information not ascertained via the mobile could be attained by an alternative source.

“Today will be perfect anyway.”

A moment passed before he ejected his black umbrella open and marched down the sidewalk toward the nearest subway.

­­­­­

“This court is adjourned. Case closed.” The presiding judge gruffly declared with a loud gavel slam.

Marie shifted in her seat. She was relieved. She hated courts. She hated prisons. She hated prisons most of all, but courts and court cases were pretty close contenders with prisons regarding things she despised.

This was ironic because Marie had once planned to attend law school after her final year in college. She sighed and turned with a weak smile to her mentor’s client, Jerianna Clint.

“Thank GOD!” Jerianna exclaimed, tossing her head back with a grin. She raised her hands to the ceiling in victory. “I knew we would win. That mann was once my husband, but he’s getting what was coming all along. Beatin’ me and my children. Son of a bitch. Whoo!”

Marie chuckled weakly and stood. Her mentor’s client stood, too, and shook her hand eagerly.

“You and Mr. Emerson have done a lot for me, Ms. Dawkins. Thank you. Good luck on your law school exams. You’ll be a fine lawyer.” She beamed.

Marie nodded with another smile and excused herself.

Upon leaving the courthouse late that Thursday afternoon, Marie slung her leather briefcase over her shoulder and with heavy steps made her way to the subway just one block away.

She was depressed. There was no doubting that. For several weeks, in fact, she had been in this “slump” of an emotional state and felt she was only getting worse. Psychiatrists had not helped and the recent series of days visiting incarcerated clients – guilty and innocent alike – had not helped either.

Marie hated her job. Regardless of the fact that it was a coveted internship at a city law firm, it was not what she enjoyed anymore. What she wanted to do, though, was not apparent. This made her feel worse. Additionally, she ached with grief many days now.

Marie paused mid-step. Her phone was ringing. She took it from her case and read the screen: “Ann.” She pressed ‘talk’ and answered.

“Marie!” An excited woman on the other end shrieked. “I’m back from Hawaii! The cab just left and I’m home! How are you, dear? Oh, it doesn’t matter, you’ll be fantastic tonight! I’m coming over in 30 minutes. Too soon? Too bad! Hah! Oh, you’ll love me, dear. See you soon!”

Marie held the phone from her ear as the dial tone sounded and gaped at it in surprise.

Somewhat encouraged and curious, she quickened her pace and hurried home. Whatever her good friend had in mind may be just what she needed to brighten another depressing day.

“Speed dating? What in the hell- ?!” Marie stared open-mouthed at Anne after entering her living room.

Anne was a red-haired, fiery woman of 23 years. She had gone to college with Marie before dropping out and starting a clothing line by the name of Pensa Pensa in New York. After earning about five-hundred grand, Marie sold the company and pursued another whim: real estate. This was what she had stuck with for a miraculous three years to date. Unlike Marie, she was spontaneous and fun. Marie lived vicariously through her and enjoyed her mirth and tales of nights meeting people during her journeys around the world and city. Despite Anne’s encouragement, though, Marie had yet to venture out in the evenings for social entertainment or anything of the sort.

Anne cocked her head to one side and smiled sympathetically.

“You, my friend, are going out tonight.”

Marie shook her head and made a lazy gesture to the file folders stacked on her desk.

“I’ve got work to do.” She mumbled.

Anne ignored this and walked to Marie’s bedroom while starting to talk fast about finding suitable and flattering clothes for Marie to wear that evening, how depression gets no one anywhere, and whether Marie had any alcohol.

Marie jogged after her friend sputtering.

“Look, Anne, I appreciate this – b-but I just want to rest tonight –”

Anne suddenly jerked her head around at Marie.

“I just want to hear about your trip, Anne!” Marie shrugged with a chuckle.

Anne turned around and resumed making her way to Marie’s bedroom with a scoff.

“You’ll hear about it soon enough. What is important is getting you out of your Debby Downer mode and into the life of a young, successful, and might I add, single, woman!”

Marie sighed and flopped into the armchair inside her bedroom and looked helplessly on at her determined friend. She bent her head down and began twisting her long thick brown hair. She wrapped some ends tightly around her fingers and sighed loudly again.

Anne wrenched Marie’s closet doors open and rifled through it.

“It is my duty as a friend and charitable human to help those in need and you, Marie, need help.” Anne said firmly. “I realize you’ve been trying to deal with losing your parents, but that was over 8 months ago. It’s time you had some normal, social, therapy.”

Marie shook her head, but was too tired to object. She figured she might as well give in. She tucked her hair behind her ears and stared at the hardwood floor and its reflection of light that entered the room from the bedroom windows.

“Aha!” Anne cried. “This is excellent!”

Anne crossed the room to Marie and held a black garment before her.

“The prototypical, classic, little black dress. I didn’t think you had anything like this anymore –”

Marie wrenched the dress from her friend’s hands and shook her head.

“Too revealing.” She said flatly.

Anne gawked at her, snatching it back.

“This is perfect. You don’t have a choice. It’s tasteful and your breasts will not be popping out. As for the length, you have nice legs, so, I’d not consider another piece of clothing. Nothing else would display your stalks so well.” Anne looked expectantly at Marie.

After 5 minutes’ pause and consideration, Anne yielded again. It would be hard work trying to get Anne to give up, and Marie was something of a pushover now-a-days.

Anne smiled.

“Just shower or whatever, and then give me one hour to get you ready. We’ll be set to go in two hours at most. The first session begins at 8:00, but we’ll grab a bite to eat on our way.”

Anne left the room before Marie could really say anything other than a soft, “Fine.”

She stood and trudged to the bathroom.

­­­­­

Marie was actually used to doing things under duress when it came to Anne. Anne was a pushy character. She was stubborn and rarely gave up whenever deciding to do a given thing. Marie had always been a cautious individual. Leaving the small café where she and Anne had eaten dinner, though, Marie was thinking how grateful she was to have a friend who coerced her into things – tonight being a prime example. Who knew? She might just be glad she left the dingy old apartment, after all.

The dress Anne had chosen for Marie flattered her healthy and curvaceous figure. Days of frequently remaining indoors had not affected the slightly tan skin and her thick head of hair had been swept up into an elegant bun secured with small silver hairpins.

Anne glanced sideways at her friend and grinned.

“I have transformed you into the swan you know you are.” She said confidently. “Look at the bone structure you have! You hair up reveals how lovely your face.”

Anne sighed, obviously pleased with herself and looked ahead again. Marie laughed.

“What would I do without you, Anne?”

Anne chortled.

“Wither away and die beneath that stack of file folders in your living room.”

“Ha!”

­­­­­

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you would please be seated, we’ll begin shortly.” A short and robust man announced as Anne and Marie entered a large room.

The speed dating session was held in a local hotel ballroom. Inside, about 50 square tables were lined beside each other with one chair on both sides beneath a large crystal chandelier. The room was an attractive champagne and gold color with elegant furnishings.

Standing around the vacant tables and chairs, stood a group of about 100 single men and women. Marie sighed to herself, readying herself for a new and unique experience. She looked at Anne.

Anne, though, was not visibly apprehensive at all. She seemed to have spotted a friend across the room and was waving.

“You know him?” Marie whispered.

“Of course I do.” Anne said through her grin, still eyeing the gentleman who returned her friendly gesture. “He used to work in the same real estate firm as me.”

A loud gong sounded, startling Anne and Marie. They turned to see the gong that had been rolled into the ballroom. Bystanders began sitting and the two young women followed suit.

Once seated, Marie noticed that Anne had sneaked away. Alarmed, she whirled around and stood up.

“Anne!” She whispered loudly, looking at the retreating figure of her friend.

“Marie,” Anne was sitting a couple seats to the left of Marie. “You’ll be fine. It’s up to you to do this on your own.”

Anne slowly sat again and noticed that a man sat across from her. She smiled graciously, but felt very vulnerable. The man grinned back.

He had a receding hairline. Marie nervously began biting her nails.

The gong sounded again.

“The instructions are as follows:” The facilitating man began. “You have 4 minutes to interact with the individual across from you. At the gong, the men will simply stand and rotate to the right. Begin.”

The gong was struck.

“Hi!” The man began. “I’m John. You’re very pretty. Are those color contacts? I’ve never seen such beautiful light brown eyes before. I wish I had pretty eyes. Or do I? What do you think of New York? Are you a newcomer or have you lived here your entire life? I haven’t. Sorry. I’m nervous, too. Uhm. What else?”

He quickly ran a hand through his dark hair and began hesitantly chuckling.

Marie was somewhat lost for words. She smiled again and stared down at the top of the table, waiting for something to come to mind.

“Uh, well, hi.” She said. “My name’s Marie. Thank you. They’re not contacts. I can’t put anything in my eyes.” She managed a forced chuckle.

John chuckled, too. It was an awkward moment.

The gong sounded again.

“Well, bye!” John said

The next man sat before her. Before anything was said, he sat back in his chair, gave an appraising look and winked coyly.

Marie raised an eyebrow and gave a small smile.

“I’m Trevor.” He declared evenly.

“My name is Marie.”

“Marie, you are hot.”

Marie laughed nervously and nodded, she bent her head and red-faced, stared at the table.

“Trevor has lots to offer a woman, but doesn’t know if Marie could handle it. He’d be willing to try, though.”

There was a relatively long pause before Marie could think of what to respond with.

Trevor, she noted to herself, also had a large chin, obnoxious voice, thick eyebrows and seemed to enjoy talking about himself in the third person.

Thankfully, the gong was struck again before she could say anything more.

The next man who sat before her was bald. And the next, hoarse. The next was more shy than Marie and refused to volunteer any information about himself.

Some 30 minutes into the speed-dating, Marie began questioning why she had been talked into this disaster in the first place. She looked around for Anne when the eleventh man had sat before abruptly excusing himself to vomit in the bathroom from nerves. Anne appeared to be having the time of her life. Marie sighed and began absentmindedly staring up at the chandelier, fingering the hem on her dress.

“Oh, hello.” A virile voice spoke to her.

Marie’s head snapped back down to face the man sitting in front of her. It wasn’t the same man as before.

He smiled pleasantly and waited for her to respond.

“Hello.” She said. “I’m sorry – I wasn’t paying attention.”

He had jet black hair and teal eyes. He had a full head of hair! His mouth curved into another smile.

“I just arrived, the host told me to sit here since it’s vacant – the other guy left, I guess. You don’t mind, do you?”

Marie opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the gong again.

He stood.

“Sorry, again.” He apologized again. “Enjoy your evening.”

Marie nodded quickly and smiled.

“We’ll now take a brief break, everyone. Ladies, to this side for refreshments,” The host indicated to one side. “And men, to this side.”

Anne was full of talk about the men she had met when she rejoined Marie.

“I do wish you’d perk up and try to enjoy yourself, Marie.” She said wistfully.

Marie wasn’t paying much attention to her, though. She was stealing glances across the room at the men, searching for the man with a full head of hair.

“What are you looking at?” Anne asked, puzzled.

“This guy, he’s –” She spotted him, in deep conversation with the first man Marie had met that evening. “There.”

Anne followed her friend’s gaze and gaped.

“My! You met him?” Anne sidled up beside Marie and gently elbowed her in the side. “You lucky girl.”

Marie exhaled with a short laugh. She couldn’t see him as closely as before, but now was able to see his entire figure.

“He must be metro-sexual, though. Look at how nice that outfit is. Does he smell nice?” Anne asked.

“Uh, I don’t know. I want water.” Marie said.

She reached behind her for a bottle sitting on the table she stood beside. Groping around and not removing her eyes from the name-less man, she knocked over the bucket of water bottles and ice cubes.

“Oh, for the love of God.” Marie muttered.

The clatter on the hardwood floor silenced the entire room.

“That is so cliché!” Anne teased. “You’ve got his attention now. Lord.”

Marie stuttered and looked around before sinking abashedly to the floor to scoop the ice into the vessel again. She apologized to the ladies nearby with a nervous smile.

“I didn’t mean to do that, Anne.” Marie said through clenched teeth. Anne stood over her, shaking her head.

“Oh, look at that.” Anne said dully. “Here he comes.”

Marie glanced up and then back at the mess she was cleaning. Then she lifted her head again.

The man with a full head of hair was less than 2 feet from her. He stopped and knelt before her.

“Hi.” He said.

The handful of ice Marie clutched melted and dripped on her dress before she could manage a response.

“Quite the icebreaker, isn’t it?” Anne laughed, looking down at the speechless Marie. “Ha!” She walked away.

Marie smiled and broke her gaze. “I’m so sorry.” She said.

The man scooped a bit of ice into the bucket. “What’s your name?”

“Ma-Marie.”

“I’m Isaac.”

“Uh. Oh.” Marie nervously began shoveling ice with her hands again, avoiding eye-contact.”s

“Well, Marie,” He dropped the last of the ice into the bucket. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.”

The gong was struck again.

Marie placed the last two water bottles into the bucket and sighed as the man returned to the other side of the room.

When she stood again, she covered her face with both her hands in embarrassment and inwardly kicked herself.

When Anne reappeared she frowned.

“I’m going home.” Marie declared with finality. “This was a bad idea.”

And without waiting for Anne to protest, she stormed out of the ballroom.