widely revered among my college peers and considered of utmost importance by my professor, seems to hold little to no currency in the real world. I’ve found that out the hard way, which is why I’m here, trying to clinch this job, which despite being a bit shady, is surprisingly well paid. Well, by my standards anyway. It pays twice as much as my last job as a barmaid and I’m pretty sure I won’t have to wash pint glasses or deal with annoying drunks. Although you never know.
Derek studied an equally impractical course – media studies and communication skills – and from a quick Google search this morning, it doesn’t seem like he’s managed to put it to much real-world use either, unless he was a very communicative boss in his former career as an adult entertainment company director. Or in his stint as a used car salesman. Yep, it’s fair to say that neither of us would quite make the list of our college’s star alumni. Despite Derek’s questionable background, his latest venture, To the Moon & Back, seems to be doing surprisingly well. The company won Dating Agency of the Year at the prestigious US Dating Awards a few years ago. And it’s received a ton of rave reviews online with former clients claiming that thanks to the agency, they finally met the love of their life after years of struggling to find a partner. It was even profiled by The New Yorker, which described it as an, ‘innovative and ambitious dating service with a friendly personal approach’.
The website of To the Moon & Back is incredibly slick too, which is why I was a little surprised when I rocked up to find that in person it consists of nothing more than a client lounge and a cramped back office. With a central address on Wall Street, I thought it was going to be as swanky as its zip code, but it’s tiny. Located at the top floor of a financial advisory firm, it’s nothing like the salubrious offices below. The client lounge, which Derek showed me through earlier, is like a kooky cocktail bar, with a huge sofa laden with sparkly cushions and throws, two comfy armchairs, an ornate coffee table, low-hanging gold lamps and sumptuous curtains. Leading on from the lounge is this pokey office, which features Derek’s worn-looking old desk, a dated Mac computer, a filing cabinet, a shrivelled pot plant in the corner and an incongruous and oddly distracting waving Chinese cat ornament which sits proudly next to Derek’s monitor. Derek told me he’s been running the whole operation himself since he launched the business two years ago, but apparently, he now needs extra help looking after his client list of ‘successful single bachelors’ and fighting off competition from rival agency, Elite Love Match, which Derek claims are ‘scum, a bunch of charlatans, the worst dating agency in New York’.
Derek’s stomach growls and he reaches into his desk drawer, pulling out a pack of Oreos.
‘Fancy a biscuit?’ He thrusts the pack towards me.
‘Sure!’ I reach for one, smiling gratefully.
Derek sips his coffee and takes a bite.
‘So…’ he ventures through a mouthful of crumbs. ‘Where would you suggest taking Erica for a first date?’
‘Oh!’ I feel my face light up. Now this is my forte. I may not be a natural when it comes to love, but I do know New York’s fine dining scene inside out.
Not because I frequent such establishments, just because I know them. I read about them. I follow every major food critic in the city on Twitter and I have an encyclopaedic knowledge of Manhattan’s high-end dining scene. I suppose it’s to me what Second World War history is to Andy Graham. These places represent the glittery side of New York. The side of the people who’ve made it. The holy grail, if you will. And yes, I’m more likely to order in from Domino’s than actually go to such places, but I like knowing that they’re there. Just in case.
‘How about Zuma?’ I suggest. Zuma is a new Japanese fusion restaurant in Midtown. It was opened a couple of months ago by a Michelin star chef and it’s been getting rave reviews.
‘Interesting, why Zuma?’ Derek asks.
‘Well, the food’s meant to be great, but it’s also classy and cool. It’s not just your run of the mill bar or café, it’s the kind of place you take someone to impress them and I think Erica would feel complimented by the choice. It sets a good standard for a first date. Oh, and it’s not far from the Upper East Side so it’s convenient for Erica too.’
‘Very convenient! Especially if she and Andy hit it off,’ Derek adds, raising an eyebrow suggestively.
‘Yes,’ I laugh awkwardly.
‘Zuma is a great choice,’ Derek says. ‘Have you been?’
‘No.’ I admit. ‘I’ve just heard about it.’
I’m about to ask Derek if there’ll be any opportunities to go to such places within the job role. The online ad mentioned ‘networking with clients’ and you never know, such networking might take place in fancy bars and restaurants, particularly if the clients are as successful as Derek makes out. But as I open my mouth to speak, a buzzer sounds, a shrill bleep chiming through the office.
‘Sorry Polly, I’d better answer that.’ Derek gets up and crosses the room.
‘Hello?’ he answers, pressing the button on the intercom. ‘Brandon! Sure, come on up!’
I glance over my shoulder to see Derek buzzing his visitor up.
‘Brandon’s one of my clients. Great guy,’ Derek tells me, with a warm smile. ‘He’s a super successful lawyer, a real high-flyer but not so successful in the love department.’
‘Oh…’ I utter regretfully.
‘Yeah, well, I’m working on it.’ Derek sighs.
‘Right.’ He claps his hands together. ‘I’m going to have to wrap things up I’m afraid,’ he says, pulling a face, as if calling time on the interview is going to come as a major blow to me. ‘But it’s been excellent meeting you, Polly.’
‘It’s been excellent meeting you too!’ I enthuse, a little too brightly.
Derek smiles at me with that broad paternal smile and I smile politely back. I put on my jacket and we head out of the office.
‘“I’m going to court you!”’ Derek chuckles as he leads me back through the client lounge. ‘I think you’d be a natural at this job, you know.’
‘Really?’ I ask with slight trepidation as we pause at the exit.
‘Yes, really.’
Derek reaches over to shake my hand. ‘Thanks for coming in. I’ll be in touch very soon,’ he says, with a conspiratorial wink. A wink that tells me, without a shadow of a doubt, that the job is mine. Any sliver of doubt I had has now been wiped out. It’s in the bag and for the first time in my life, I feel both relief and dread at the same time. My dream has always been to be a photographer, not a matchmaker, but money is money.
I pump his hand, thanking him, before heading out the door.
As I walk down the narrow office corridor with its ugly hexagon-printed carpet, I try to imagine pacing down it daily. Every morning and every evening. On my way to and from that tiny office with Derek and his waving Chinese cat. Could this be my domain? My new life? My new routine? Could I look at this ugly hexagon pattern every day? This building and this job are hardly where I imagined I’d end up.
‘Excuse me.’ A male voice interrupts my thoughts and I look up to see a man, an incredibly handsome man, who must be in his early thirties. He’s tall, with dark hair and striking blueish green eyes.
‘Sorry!’ I move out of the way to let him pass. He’s wearing a smart grey suit and carrying a briefcase; he looks every inch the corporate city worker. He must be here to visit the financial advisory firm downstairs. ‘Umm, that’s To the Moon & Back,’ I inform him, gesturing down the hallway. ‘You know, the dating agency.’
‘Yes.’ The man smiles. ‘I know…’ He eyes me with a bemused look. Then suddenly, it dawns on me.
‘Oh! Are you Brandon?’ I ask, fully expecting him to say no.