Donut Be Easy Read online

  “Congrats on that, by the way. I heard your ex was kind of a douche canoe.”

  I chuckled a bit. “Thanks. She really was awful in the end. Anyway, I haven’t been single in ages and I need someone to show me the ropes on how this whole online dating thing works.”

  “Give me your cell.” She held out her hand and I offered up my iPhone. She went right to work, tapping away, and within seconds, she was handing it back to me. “I downloaded the best two I’ve found. All you have to do is set up your profile, upload a few pictures, and bam, you’re ready to start meeting some hot singles.”

  “Is it really that easy?”

  She nodded. “You’d be surprised how easy apps have made meeting people these days.”

  I scrolled through my camera roll, trying to find some decent pictures of myself. Tina came around, looking over my shoulder as I browsed. I tapped on one of me and Noah at our last Fourth of July cookout.

  “Not that one.”

  I glanced up at her. “Why?”

  “One, you look drunk as hell, and two, you don’t want to put group pictures on there. It leaves a girl wondering which one is you. I never swipe right on dudes who have multiple people in their main picture.”

  “Swipe right?”

  She shot me a sympathetic smile. “When you’re looking at people’s profiles, you swipe right if you like them and left if you don’t. You’ll get the hang of it. Here, let me take your picture. You look cute in a tie.”

  “I feel like a fish out of water.” I straightened myself up and grinned cheekily as Tina snapped a photo.

  “Perfect. I promise you’re going to be fine. Here, I’ll set up your profile for you.”

  “Have at it.”

  Tina returned to her seat, biting her lip as she mumbled to herself. “Name, Jack. Birthday, June 1st, 1978. Height, six foot three.”

  “Six four, actually,” I corrected her.

  “Oh, gotcha. Looking for straight women between thirty and forty-five for long-term and short-term dating. Description…hmmmm. Humorous, good-hearted guy. Looking for friends and will see if it becomes a relationship. I ultimately want to be with my best friend, however corny that may sound.” She looked up and smiled. “Okay, you’re all set.”

  “You’re good at this.”

  She shrugged her shoulders and popped up quickly. “Comes with practice and reading too many awful profiles that make my skin want to crawl. If I read one more profile about how a guy lives with his three cats in his mom’s basement and loves World of Warcraft, I might shoot myself.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “You’d be surprised how many losers are out there.”

  “Nerds need love too.”

  “My rack is too expensive to waste on some momma’s boy who still sleeps on Star Wars sheets.”

  “I feel like there’s a story there,” I muttered as an email from my boss popped up.

  “No, just a loser ex I wish I could forget.”

  “Thanks for your help, Tina.”

  “This was fun. Good luck.”

  “I think I’m going to need it.”

  Thankful for a distraction from my boss’s email, I started scrolling through potential matches. Five swipes to the left landed me on a familiar face. Skye’s Botox-addled features sneered at me with newly injected, bright red lips. Curiosity got the better of me. I tapped on her profile to scroll through pictures of my ex-wife sunbathing on a beach and drinking champagne in a hotel bed amidst stupid selfies with weird animal ear filters. I fought the bile building in the back of my throat as I read her profile.

  Fun-loving woman looking for my next adventure. Newly liberated and ready to mingle. I am a goddess and I am finally doing me for the first time in my life. Can’t handle me at my worst, you don’t deserve me at my best. If you can’t deal with a strong, independent woman, keep moving. I am not here to be your mommy or maid. I expect to be pampered like the princess I am.

  After taking a screenshot of the retched profile, I blocked her.

  What happened to Brock?

  I hated that I cared, and I hated that she was on the prowl for other hearts to crush.

  Not my problem anymore.

  Setting my phone down, I finally opened the email from my boss.

  My office. Now.

  Shoving away from my desk, I stretched out my tired back. Making my way down the short hallway, I tried to put my game face on.

  “You wanted to see me, Paul?” I asked as the slime ball hung up his call.

  “Jack, perfect timing. I have a project that needs to be done by Monday morning and it has your name all over it.”

  “It’s Friday. I’d have to work all weekend.” I wasn’t one to turn down a project, and Paul wasn’t shy about taking advantage of my dedication.

  “You’re the only one in the office who doesn’t have a family to abandon while burning the midnight oil at his desk.”

  Before I knew what was coming out of my mouth, I spit out, “I quit.”

  We both remained frozen as the shock of the words that were staining the air settled in.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I didn’t stutter. I said I quit. Find another golden boy to fuck over on a Friday. I’m done bailing you out in tight spots.”

  “You can’t just leave me hanging like this, Jack. You’re just going through a lot right now. You’re not thinking straight.”

  “No. I think for the first time in my life, I am actually thinking clearly.”

  I marched out of his office and jumped for joy as I looked at the office I was about to pack up. I poked my head out of my opened door.

  “Tina?”

  “Yeah?” she responded, pulling the headphone out of her right ear.

  “Can you get me a few boxes?”

  “Sure?” A confused look met my elated grin as she walked past me to go to the storage room.

  It didn’t take long for me to pack up my few personal belongings, which all fit into one file box. Freedom seeped into my veins as Tina watched in dread.

  “You’re really leaving?” she choked out.

  “On to bigger and better things,” I boomed.

  “Like what?” she asked, tapping her foot nervously.

  “I honestly have no earthly idea. I have a lot of savings and it’s time to start living and stop just existing.”

  “I can’t believe you’re going to leave me here with Paul all alone,” Tina complained.

  “Just don’t be alone with him in the copy room and you’ll do fine.”

  “What?” She furrowed her brow.

  “Just trust me.”

  She jumped up, wrapping her dainty arms around my neck.

  “I’m going to miss you.”

  “You have my number. Maybe we can go out for drinks sometime and I can hear some of your dating war stories.”

  “It’s a date.”

  Chapter 4

  Kelly

  “No, Barry. You’re just going to have to find someone else. I’m too swamped right now.”

  My former boss slumped in the chair across the table from me. “You know I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t desperate. I really need your help.”

  “I should have known when you invited me here that it wasn’t just a social call.” I sipped my mimosa as the server delivered my eggs benedict with extra hollandaise sauce on the side.

  “My usual pastry teacher is on her damn honeymoon so I’m stuck without someone for the next two weeks. You’re the best in town and the students could really learn from your expertise. It’ll be like old times.” Barry was playing the nostalgia card well—bringing me to the restaurant we used to run together, trying to remind me how much fun I’d had working with him at the Washburne Culinary Institute years before.

  “I just don’t think I can swing it this time, and didn’t you know she’d be out? People usually plan their honeymoon way in advance.”

  “I forgot like usual. You know how great I am at keeping up with my calendar.”
/>
  I thought for a moment and decided to give in. “Fine, but you owe me big for bailing you out of this mess.”

  “You’re a lifesaver,” Barry exclaimed as he smacked the end of the table.

  “I know. When do you need me?”

  “Next week is the beginning of the baking section for my newest class.”

  “I’ll have to make sure Eddy can handle everything, but I don’t think it’ll be too big of a problem. Also, I get to choose what I teach these punk students of yours.”

  Barry quickly swallowed his mouthful of bacon. “You can have free rein, just nothing too complicated. Don’t forget that most of these kids don’t know the difference between crème brûlée and tres leches.”

  I sighed. “That’s just so freaking sad.”

  Barry scoffed. “Tell me about it.”

  “Kelly?” a deep voice asked as I turned to see a man who looked nothing like the pictures on his dating profile.

  “Rich?” I tried to force my face to turn the disgusted look I was sure I was giving him into a smile.

  “Sorry I’m ridiculously late,” my date for the evening apologized as he took a seat next to me. “My work meeting took longer than I anticipated—stupid board members being overly concerned about a bottom line. I try to remind them that it’s my job to worry and theirs to just approve my projects and give me money.”

  “It’s fine, I understand.”

  From Rich’s pictures, I was expecting a relatively fit guy in his late thirties with a beard, green eyes, and full head of dark brown hair. What I was sitting next to was an overweight man in his late forties, nearly bald, with dark brown eyes and a straggly beard that was patchy and unkempt.

  I shot a quick text to Eddy: 911. Another catfish.

  “So, like what you see?” The confidence he exuded was astounding. From his overly expensive suite and Rolex watch, it was apparent that he was compensating for something.

  Before I had to figure out a bullshit answer, Eddy was calling.

  “I am so sorry. My assistant never calls this late.”

  “Take it. Business before pleasure is my policy.”

  “Eddy?” I answered.

  “Bad huh?”

  “Oh no! The oven is on fire? I’ll be right there.”

  “See you at your place in ten.”

  I hung up, grabbed my bag, and threw a twenty down to cover the drinks I’d had while waiting. “I really have to go.”

  “A fire? That sounds serious.”

  “I just hope it isn’t as bad as last time. Take care.”

  “Rain check?” he called out as I made my escape without answering him.

  I was in an Uber within minutes, running away from yet another terrible date. Eddy’s car was already in my driveway when we pulled up in front of my place.

  Walking in, I yelled for my best friend, “Please tell me you opened the Malbec that was on the counter.”

  “Already poured and waiting in the living room,” he responded. “You really need a maid.”

  “Why? It’s just me living here.”

  Eddy pointed to the unfolded laundry in the basket on the couch, which had been there since the last time he was over.

  Waving it off indifferently, I chortled, “It’s not like I’m a heathen. Besides, I work so much, I’m hardly ever here.”

  “Whatever you say with your wrinkled-ass clothes all over the damn place.”

  I climbed under the plush blanket with Eddy, resting my head in the crook of his shoulder. “Why does this keep happening to me?”

  “Karma.”

  I pushed away from him. “Jerk.”

  He handed me my overly filled wine glass. “You should have left your number for that guy with the magical tongue. If you keep running out on unicorns like him, you’re going to be stuck with the catfish of the world.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. Too bad I’m not in middle school anymore. My mom used to write my name and number on the tag of all my clothes for summer camp.”

  “Maybe you should just start writing your number on the back of your lacy thongs. It could be the new wave of business card for sluts.”

  “If I’m a slut then you’re a slut.”

  “Honey, I’m a diva. I don’t leave numbers—I collect them.”

  “Of course. How could I ever forget that?”

  Chapter 5

  Jack

  Pacing in my kitchen, panic set in.

  What the fuck was I thinking?

  Yes, I did hate my job and I did have enough in the bank to float me for quite a while, but I’d never had an impulsive bone in my body.

  I had spent the afternoon polishing up my resume, realizing how sparse it was. Other than college, a few meaningless restaurant jobs that got me through school, and the long stretch with my last company, I had nothing. All I could hope was that the fifteen years I had spent working for the same awful company would show potential employers that I was loyal and trustworthy.

  What am I doing with my life?

  I turned on the TV for some background noise. At least I knew what I was making for dinner. Pulling out the lamb chops I had been dying to make, I went to work mixing together the rosemary, basil, thyme, salt, and pepper. As I was rubbing the seasoning onto the cold raw meat, a commercial came on for the Washburne Culinary Institute.

  “Looking for an exciting new career? Cook your way to your dreams while being taught by some of today’s leading chefs.”

  The light bulb illuminated in my mind as I watched the smiling faces of actors pretending to whisk their hearts away.

  I grabbed my phone, ignored at least ten messages from the dating apps, and dialed Noah’s cell.

  “Hey man, you’re on speaker. I have Izzy in the car.”

  “Hi, Jack!” Izzy squealed.

  “Hey guys. I have some big news.”

  “Let’s hear it,” Noah responded.

  “I quit my job and I’m going to culinary school.” I spit the words out as quickly as I could.

  Izzy yelled, “You did what?”

  “Good for you! Your boss was a jerk anyway,” Noah added.

  “I have always loved to cook and I worked in tons of restaurants in college.” I felt like I had to defend myself, but it was more to talk myself into the hasty decision that was only seconds old.

  “I smell a midlife crisis,” Izzy teased.

  “You’re one to talk.” Fuck. Why did I say that? As I was taking my foot out of my mouth, Noah tried to deflect from the secret he knew I was referring to.

  “Hey, I need my truck for work.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Noah. You told him, didn’t you?” Izzy’s voice was reaching the high-pitched pissed mode that rarely made an appearance.

  “We’re on our way to Lidia’s now,” Noah said, ignoring his wife.

  “Don’t gloss over the subject. Jack, you can’t lie to me.” From Izzy’s tone, I knew there was no saving myself from the hole I had just dug.

  I took a deep breath. “Noah was just excited and we were celebrating. I couldn’t be happier for the two of you. It’s about damn time you make me an uncle.”

  “Thanks. Just don’t tell my mom you knew first.” Izzy’s voice mellowed with a deep sigh.

  “My lips are sealed,” I promised.

  “I’ve heard that before,” Noah chimed in before Izzy said goodbye.

  Letting the roasted lamb chops rest on the counter, I begrudgingly scrolled through the messages I had been avoiding.

  The first five all said the same standard line: Hello, handsome.

  Come on, be original.

  I quickly learned to be careful what I wished for yet again.

  The next few messages were freaking gems.

  Rhonda: We’re a match! The next step is to set a wedding date, right? I already have the perfect dress picked out!

  Good God. Crazy. Blocked.

  Bri: Before we take this any further, do you have a problem with large female genitalia?

  Wh
at does that even mean? Gross. Blocked.

  Fifi: Does this mean I am not going to be a virgin by the end of the week?

  That has to be a joke. Please be a joke. Blocked.

  Hilary: Are you Jewish? Cause the way you’re looking in those pictures, I’m beginning to think Jewish your dick was deep in my mouth.

  Have some class. Shut up, Hilary. Blocked.

  Marge: Can I call you daddy?

  No. Hell fucking no. Blocked.

  Gigi: If you were a vegetable, you’d be a cute-cumber.

  That’s kind of adorable.

  Clicking on her picture, I realized I must have swiped right by accident. I’d never thought of myself as a shallow person, but everyone needs some kind of standards, right? I just couldn’t see how I could get past the busted yellow teeth or the nose that looked like it belonged on the Wicked Witch of the West. Blocked.

  Apparently, there were tons of fish in the sea, but I was left with all the grunts and suckerfish.

  Maybe this whole online thing isn’t for me.

  As I took a seat at the dining table to watch some Seinfeld reruns, I was thankful to get a text from someone I could actually see myself having a good time with.

  Tina: So, how about that drink?

  Me: Tomorrow night?

  Tina: Sounds good to me. Ever been to Mountain Breath?

  Me: Love that bar. See you at seven?

  Tina: Can’t wait.

  I spent most of my day doing chores around the house and signing up for classes. As I got ready for my date with Tina, I couldn’t stop my nerves. I hadn’t been on a real date in as long as I could remember. Skye and I had always tried to implement date night, but our schedules hardly aligned enough for us to even squeeze in having Chinese takeout together.

  I changed my shirt four times, put on way more cologne than any man should ever wear, and stared at my shoe options for at least five minutes before settling on my favorite pair of loafers.

  “You can do this,” I said to myself in the mirror as I massaged beard oil into my growing whiskers.