The Romance Report Read online

  Quinn relented and released her death grip on the towel. Sean threw it to the side and took a sip of his drink while he inspected Quinn’s face. His nose scrunched and he let out small grunts as he circled her chair. He checked her over one last time, picked up his shears and began to snip her hair. Quinn gasped as she saw long strands of hair fall to the floor around her. She closed her eyes and muttered under her breath.

  “What’s that? I can’t hear you,” Sean said. “Relax. You’re going to be my greatest masterpiece. The Mona Lisa of hair. The white whale of hairdressers everywhere. Longed for but rarely seen.”

  “Oh brother,” Indie groaned from inside the apartment. “Your ego is growing with every snip. How did you become such a diva?”

  “My brother took all my testosterone in the womb,” Sean said.

  “Wait. You have a brother? How come I haven’t met him?” Quinn asked.

  “Julian is my twin brother and he’s in the military. He’s as straight and macho as I’m gay and fabulous. He does something with helicopters and weapons. I don’t know. Stuff that gets you muddy.” Sean waved his scissors in the air. “You’ll meet him soon enough and love him. All the ladies do and he loves them back.”

  “Once you’re done with her hair, I’m going to snap a picture to post on her profile page,” Indie said.

  “What profile page?” Quinn eyes flew open. She wanted to see what Indie was doing and why she needed a picture of her.

  “The profile page I’m creating on True Hearts. I do some freelance computer security for them and occasionally tweak the algorithms they use to match prospective dates. I’m making you your very own account and thanks to my mad skills creating backdoors into their server, its free,” Indie said. Her fingers flew across the keys of her laptop. She gave one last tap to the keyboard then set it on the table. She walked out onto the balcony to inspect Sean’s work. “Wow! I take back everything I was thinking about your big head. Quinn, you’re stunning!”

  “Your undying adoration is apology enough. No peeking, Quinn. I want to tame those Neanderthal eyebrows of yours, and then we’ll do the big reveal,” Sean said. He pulled tweezers out and began to pluck.

  “Ouch!” Quinn squirmed as Sean continued to pluck away at her brows. “This is why I don’t wax or tweeze my brows. It hurts! I thought the natural brow was the newest trend.”

  “Natural, yes. Unruly, no. The price of traffic-stopping beauty, my love, does not come without a little pain and plucking. Quit bitching and hold still. If you’re not careful you’ll end up with a uni-brow on one side.”

  Quinn winced but forced herself to sit still. “Online dating is such a bad idea. A couple friends of mine tried it. The guys they met were nothing like their profiles. What if my date ends up being some kind of psychopathic killer? You might find me chopped into little bits and buried in the backyard.”

  “Which is why I set up your profile on True Hearts. They run background checks and charge big bucks for their services. It tends to cut out the creeps and cheapskates. Just try it. You might find your true love through True Hearts and record a testimonial for their commercials! You need a job. It could be extra cash!”

  “Ugh. No thank you. One date and that’s all. I should swear off men for life anyway. My luck with men has been depressing,” Quinn said.

  Sean gave a grunt of annoyance. “All this jibber jabber is messing up my genius and making her face move. Zip it!”

  A few minutes later, Sean set the tweezers aside and sighed. “My masterpiece is done. You can safely go back to Marlowe’s because no one will recognize you.”

  Quinn opened her eyes and looked in the mirror Sean held in his hand. Her black locks were transformed into natural chestnut brown waves that curled around her face making it appear slimmer. Her silver-gray eyes seemed larger now that her brows had been plucked into submission. She turned her head to get a better look at the haircut. She had to admit that Sean did amazing work. Her hair was shorter, but still waved down to her shoulders so she could pull it up into a ponytail. “I love it,” she admitted. She let out a small whoop of happiness and stood up. “I’m bringing hotness back…don’t worry baby, I don’t wear no black…” Quinn sang and danced her way into the kitchen to refill her glass. “Now about this apartment…”

  chapter four

  “I can’t believe your grandmother kept all this,” Indie said as she burrowed further into the pile of boxes stacked in a dusty corner of the basement. A small sneeze erupted from her as she emerged holding a brightly colored mask. “This stuff is really cool. Kind of 1950s kitsch mixed with a Mexican flair.”

  “My abuelo was a pack rat. He kept everything left behind by the previous owners and the collection grew after each old tenant moved,” Sean explained. He held up a bright blue lampshade. “This would look amazing in your place, Quinn.”

  “You think?” Quinn held up a black and white framed photograph of the Eiffel Tower. “I kind of like this.”

  Sean snatched the picture out of her hands. “We’re trying to brighten your décor, not add to the current zebra color scheme. Remember?”

  “What if we put it in this awesome picture frame I found? Groovy baby!” Indie emerged with a bright red frame and wore a pair of round blue-shaded sunglasses circa John Lennon.

  “Doable,” Quinn said. “Let’s throw a couple of things in a box and take it upstairs. I don’t want to go into color overload so early in my transformation.”

  “Definitely need this retro afghan.” Sean held up a chevron-patterned throw in shades of red, blue, green and yellow. “It’s like a sarape on caffeine.”

  Indie put the picture frame and a poster of Jerry Garcia in the box. “The poster’s for me,” she explained. Although the Sixties Revolution had missed them by a few years, Alison and Greg Skye managed to find a commune in rural Virginia that survived the onslaught of the eighties. Indie teethed on bean sprouts and homemade, chemical free cookies made from crunchy, good-for-you ingredients. It wasn’t until her rebellious teenage years that she made her stand and demanded the chance to go to public school. She wanted to see how other teenagers lived. Her parents were firm believers that children should be allowed to choose for themselves. They acquiesced, and Indie discovered her true love in the form of a beat up high school computer. By the time she was twenty-one and graduating from college, she was a veritable computer genius and world-class hacker.

  “Missed that bullet,” Quinn mumbled to herself.

  “What? You’re kidding me, right? My parents are big time Deadheads. Jerry Garcia was a genius,” Indie protested.

  “I’m staying out of this catfight,” Sean said. He added the blue lampshade and a silver-toned lamp to the box. “Carry the afghan, Quinn, and we’ll head back up to start Operation Quinnover.”

  “Quinnover? I need to mix better drinks if that’s the best you can come up with. How about Operation Quinntastic or Quinn 2.0?” Quinn grabbed the blanket and started up the stairs.

  “I vote for Quinn 2.0,” Indie piped. She grabbed up a lava lamp and an old denim rag rug she’d rescued from the basement and followed Quinn.

  “Or Quinnielicious?” Quinn said over her shoulder. Quinn rounded the corner and ran straight into her new neighbor Zach.

  “If I realized that a beautiful woman running into my arms every day was included in the rent, I would have moved in here years ago,” Zach chuckled. He grasped Quinn’s shoulders to steady her.

  “I’m so sorry!” Quinn felt the blood rush straight from her boots to her roots. “I, uh, was busy talking to my friends and wasn’t watching where I was going.”

  Sean stepped forward and held out his hand. “I’m Sean Carlos. You and I met the other day when you came to get the keys to the apartment.”

  “I remember. Mrs. Garza is your grandmother. Nice lady,” Zach said, shaking Sean’s hand. “Can I help carry anything? Is someone moving in?” He lifted an inquiring eyebrow at Quinn and then looked at Indie.

  “No. We’re doing a
little redecorating. Zach, this is my friend, Indie. Indie, my new neighbor, Zach Taylor.”

  “If you’re not doing anything, you should come help us redecorate Quinn’s apartment,” Sean suggested. “We are in the midst of Operation Quinn 2.0. We could use an impartial opinion.”

  “Operation Quinn 2.0?” Zach gave Sean a quizzical look.

  “Quinn is in desperate need of a boost to her love life and career. Her nearest and dearest friends, Indie and yours truly, are helping her out.”

  Quinn prayed that the stairs beneath her would collapse and plummet her back into the basement and away from where she stood. She glared at Sean, but he yammered on as he led Zach up the final flight of stairs to Quinn’s apartment. “Quinn’s adding some color to her apartment. It might inspire her to perk up her love life.”

  “I see,” Zach said slowly as he looked around the apartment. “The place could definitely use a little brightening up. It’s…what’s the word?”

  “Boring?” Indie volunteered.

  “Austere,” Zach said diplomatically. “Is the new hairdo part of Quinn 2.0? If so, I like it.”

  “Thanks,” Quinn ducked her head and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Can I get you something to drink? Kicking Mule? Smoky Mary?”

  “Are those drinks or gang names for your friends here?” Zach jerked a thumb at Sean and Indie who both plopped down on the couch.

  “Drinks. If you like tomatoes and jalapenos, you should try my Smoky Mary.”

  “Sure. I need a break from unpacking anyway.”

  “So, Zach, are you single?” Sean asked. Quinn shot daggers from the kitchen. Sean gave her his best “who me?” innocent look.

  “I am currently between relationships,” Zach said with a grin. “I’ve got too much on my plate with work and the move to date right now.”

  “Too bad. I was hoping I could persuade you to fix Quinn’s disastrous love life,” Sean said.

  Quinn cleared her throat. She glared at Sean and made a slashing motion against her throat with her hand.

  “I apologize for my friend, Sean. He’s in love with love and thinks everyone needs a man in their life,” Indie explained to Zach. “Quinn’s had a run of bad luck in the love department. Her career is pretty much tanked, too. However, thanks to my mad computer skills and Sean’s talent for bedazzling, her luck is about to change.”

  “Seriously, guys? Please tell a stranger my whole life story. Zach, you’re going to need a double if you hang around these two.” Quinn handed Zach his drink.

  “It’s okay. I have two younger sisters who both got married this year. They’re constantly trying to set me up with their single friends. I don’t have any plans to walk down the aisle in the near future and it’s making them crazy. Me telling them that the right woman hasn’t come along just adds fuel to their fire. Tell me something, Quinn. I’m curious to know why you’re cursed. Did you break a mirror or walk under a ladder?” Zach joked. He took a sip of his drink.

  “I’m not cursed. I went on a date with a jerk and ended up getting fired because of it,” Quinn replied.

  “The guy she dated before that plays guitar on a street corner for spare change and stole from her,” Sean said.

  “And the guy she dated before that is going to end up on America’s Most Wanted one day,” India chimed in. She shot Quinn an apologetic look. “It’s true. He was sketchy.”

  “Maybe you should give up on dating,” Zach said with a smile. “Either that or get someone to remove the curse you’re under.”

  “OMG! That’s it! I’m taking you to the curandera. Someone’s cursed you!” Sean exclaimed then made the sign of the cross.

  “Really? I don’t need a healer to uncurse me or whatever you call it. I simply need to stay away from anything with a penis and find a job.”

  “You might not believe in them, but trust me when I say that a curandera can take care of both those problems without batting an eyelash,” Sean said.

  “I’ll think I’ll leave before the man bashing begins.” Zach set his empty glass on the coffee table in front of him and stood up. “It was nice meeting you. Quinn, I still owe you that coffee. No strings attached.”

  Quinn walked him to her apartment door. “Listen. I’m sorry my friends were a little pushy. They mean well, but sometimes they get a little carried away with their joking.”

  “No problem. I have a few buddies like them. They’re looking out for you. It’s not a bad thing. I better get back to unpacking. See you later.”

  Quinn closed the door behind him. “I can’t believe you two pouncing on the new neighbor and trying to set him up with me!”

  “I know, right? He is much too nice and employed for you,” Sean said with a snarky grin. “I’m going to go ask the guy digging through the dumpster in the alley if he’d like a nice dinner and movie with a hot, young journalist. Much more your speed.”

  “Hey now! Any more comments like that I’ll make your next drink a virgin.”

  “Oh, goody! I haven’t had one of those since I was sixteen!”

  “Ew. Instead of worrying about my love life, you need to worry about the state of my bank account. If I don’t find a job, I won’t be able to afford rent next month. I’ll have to move in with my parents. I’d live in a box with the guy digging in the dumpster rather than listen to my mother’s advice. Quinn, you shouldn’t wear red. It makes you look like a raspberry. Quinn, ladies drink with a straw not from a glass. Quinn, why don’t you go out with that nice investment banker who lives with his mother and probably has dead bodies buried in his basement, but he’s from a good family and has potential.”

  “You sound just like your mom,” Indie laughed. “You can always go live on the commune with my folks. They could use your help picking the veggies and making rope hammocks.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll start looking for a new job tomorrow. Worse comes to worst, I’ll scrub toilets at the No Tell Motel. Anything is better than moving back home.”

  “Tonight, however, my dearest Doom and Gloom Queen, we’re going to have fun. Let’s bedazzle and jazz up this place. Come on, ladies, let’s get our color vibe going,” Sean said and stuck the blue lampshade on his head.

  Chapter Five

  Quinn picked up the phone to call her Uncle Patrick. It had been three weeks since she had been fired, and she still had no promising job leads.

  “Quinnie Bee! How are you?” Uncle Patrick boomed. He was a large man with a shock of curly red hair. Despite having the frame of a dockworker, he moved with a grace and speed in his kitchen that always amazed Quinn.

  “Hi, Uncle Pat. I’m good. Well, actually, not good. That’s why I’m calling. I got fired and I desperately need a job. I’ll wash dishes, wait tables, scrub toilets. Anything.”

  Uncle Patrick stayed silent for so long that Quinn thought she’d dropped the call. “Uncle Pat?”

  “I’m here. Sorry. I was thanking my lucky stars. Do you remember Jenny, my pastry chef? She fell on her way down her apartment stairs this morning and broke her leg. She’ll be out of commission for the next six weeks at least, so I need a temporary pastry chef.”

  “Poor Jenny! I’m not a pastry chef though,” Quinn said.

  “You grew up in the kitchen of my mother, the world’s best baker. Don’t tell me you aren’t a pastry chef. You may not have gone to culinary school, but I think you’ll do in a pinch. Get down here today because I’ve got a full house tonight.”

  “Alright. I’ll be there in an hour. Thank you so much. I was about to call Mom and ask her if I could move back home,” Quinn said.

  “Heaven forbid that day should ever come. I love my sister, but Anne could make the Blessed Virgin cry with her nagging. I’ll see you in an hour.”

  Quinn ended the call and tossed her cell phone in her purse. If she was going to make it across town in an hour, she needed to hurry. She tugged a black t-shirt over her head and slipped on a pair of dark blue jeans. Although Sean had added some bright pops of
color to her wardrobe, old habits were hard to break. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, Quinn decided to add a bright red headband. I can tiptoe on the wild side with the color palette, Quinn thought. She grabbed her purse and started to head out the door when her cell phone buzzed.

  “Hello?”

  “Quinn, what are you doing this weekend?” Indie asked.

  “Probably working. I’m helping Uncle Pat out for the next few weeks. His pastry chef fell and broke her leg.”

  “Crud biscuit. Have you logged on to your True Heart profile lately?”

  “No. I hadn’t even given it a second thought. I was serious when I said I didn’t want to date.”

  “I thought as much, so I’ve been you the past few weeks. You got a heart request.”

  “A what?” Quinn locked her apartment door behind her and headed down the steps.

  “A heart request. It’s what True Hearts calls a request for a date,” Indie explained. “You didn’t listen to me at all when I set this up, did you? Anyway, a guy asked you for a date this weekend.”

  “He’s a total stranger. I don’t think I want to meet some guy I know nothing about for a date. I’ll end up in a back alley dumpster wrapped in black plastic.”

  “I’ve been you.”

  “What? What do you mean?” Quinn shook her head in confusion. She walked towards the bus stop a few blocks away from her apartment to catch the next bus heading downtown.

  “I’ve chatted online with this guy pretending to be you. His name is Paul. He’s a realtor here in Richmond. If his profile picture is accurate, he’s yummy.”

  “I don’t know, Indie,” Quinn said slowly. “His picture could be ten years old. He could be bald and five-hundred pounds with a wife and a little dog named Patches.”

  “I knew you would say that so I hacked into…forget I said that…I’ve checked him out and he’s legit. Single, good-looking, fairly successful. Thirty-two years old. One date won’t kill you.”