Chapter 7
CAIDEN
H ere you go, Mr. Miller.” The helpful human cell phone sales associate hands me a shiny new phone. “Everything is backed up and ready for you.”
“Thank you so much!” I do my best to contain my eagerness to get my phone back, but I doubt I succeed, especially because I’m practically trembling as I take the device. I’m not one of those people addicted to my phone, but I am eager to contact Selene.
To say I was disappointed when the rice trick didn’t work is an understatement. Thankfully, the club is closed on Sundays, so I was able to head straight to the cellular store. Now I have the latest and greatest Apple has to offer.
The first thing I do when I get to my car is navigate to the app store to redownload Kismeet. But what pops up instead is an app called Miss-Meet, which is some sort of modern-day version of Craigslist missed connections.
Alright. That’s weird. Let’s try searching dating apps. But I scroll and scroll and scroll. No Kismeet. What the fuck?
I jog back inside the store and approach the sales associate who helped me. “Excuse me, but I think something might be wrong with my phone.”
“Oh no!” they say with that forced smile I recognize from my days of retail. “What seems to be the problem?”
I hold out my phone and show them the app store. “I can’t find this app called Kismeet.”
They cock their head. “It’s not showing up when you search for it?”
I shake my head. “That’s why I think something might be wrong.”
“Hold on.” They fish around in their pocket and pull out their phone. “What’s the app called again?”
“Kismeet.”
The longer they tap around on their phone, the more the corners of their mouth turn down. “Are you sure it’s called ‘Kismeet?’ It’s not popping up on the app store or when I Google it.”
“Yes.” I frown, confused. “I had it on my phone yesterday.”
They release a long sigh, their friendly demeanor replaced by one of annoyance. “Well, either it’s been completely scrubbed from the internet, or you have the name wrong.”
My face becomes hot. I probably look like some out-of-touch Gen Xer. “There’s no way I would get the name wrong because the app just magically app?—”
Oh shit. Magic. Selene and I had discussed the magical properties of the app.
I clear my throat. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I must have it wrong.”
The tension on the sales associate’s face melts as they realize I’m not going to cause a scene. “It’s okay, sir. It happens. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“No, but thank you,” I quickly answer, eager to get the fuck out of the store so I can figure out how the hell I’m going to find Selene.
My first step is to call Callie. She’s an excellent sleuth and may be able to give me tips on searching for her. I pull out my brand-new phone and punch in Callie’s number. It’s one of the numbers I’ve memorized.
After a few rings, she answers, “Hello?”
“Hi, sis. How’s it going?” I plaster a smile on my face in hopes it keeps the worry out of my voice.
“What’s wrong? What do you want?” she asks with a sharp tone. I can practically see her eyes narrowing.
“What makes you think something is wrong?”
She sighs. “You never call me to just talk.”
“Oh …” My face flames. I don’t want Callie to think I’m using her.
“You can tell me,” she says, voice softening.
I take a deep breath. “I think I found The One.”
“What?” Callie screams into the phone.
“Yes,” I say, cringing as I pull the phone from my ear to prevent hearing damage.
“Tell me more!” Her voice is breathless.
A large, genuine smile spreads across my face. “Her name is Selene. She’s a mothwoman.”
“Oh! Does she have pretty wings?”
I look down at the back of my hand. “Yes. She actually has the same moth wings as the ones on the back of my hands.”
“No way!” Callie squeals. “It’s like fate brought you together.”
“I know.” My chuckle is warm. “And it’s not just the wings thing. She’s amazing. Kind, creative, mature, and just as into me as I’m into her. It was an instant connection. I’ve never felt this way before.”
“That’s awesome, Caiden. How did you meet?”
My smile falters. “That’s the problem. I met her on this app and?—”
“You took my advice,” she says with a smug tone.
“Yes, I did.” I groan. Callie may have encouraged me to give Kismeet a chance but she’s still my little sister, so there’s a small part of me that’s annoyed she’s rubbing this in my face.
“Alright, alright,” she says with a scoff. “So, what’s the problem?”
“I dropped my phone in the toilet and now I can’t find the app to contact her.”
A long pause hangs heavy between us. I open my mouth to fill the silence when I hear a muffled snicker.
“Are you laughing?” I ask, eyes narrowing.
“Yes!” Callie lets out a boisterous laugh. “I’m sorry, but the toilet? Seriously, Caiden. You’re such a dork.”
I roll my eyes. “Takes one to know one.”
Her laugh somehow becomes even louder. “The fifth grade called; they want their insult back.”
“Whatever,” I grumble. “Are you going to tell me how I can find her or not. She might be my mate.”
“Mate?”
“Yes. Apparently the dating app pairs you with your fated mate and we got matched.”
“That’s wonderful, Caiden!” I can hear the smile in her voice. “I have a coworker who is married to his fated mate. I know you’ll be happy.”
“Thank you, Callie,” I say softly.
“Of course. I’m your sister. I’ll always support you.” She clears her throat. “Enough mushy talk. Let’s talk about how to find your lady love.”
I take Callie’s advice, but fruitless search after fruitless search on various social media sites, I can’t find Selene. She must not have any or she’s using an unknown username. I resort to Googling ‘Selene’ and ‘neon artist,’ and I’m pleased when I find her website. Her art is amazing and my chest swells with pride as I browse her pieces. However, there’s no phone number, but there’s an email contact. Perfect.
Heart pounding, I send her an email but get her Out of Office: “Hi there! Thank you for reaching out. I’m taking a small break to prepare for a show, but I’ll be sure to reply to your email as soon as I’m back in the office. Thank you for your understanding.”
No return date. Damnit. I wish I had asked her which gallery her show is going to be at, but I assumed we had all the time in the world. What idiotic thinking.
I brace myself, hating myself for what I’m about to do. Time to call Andre.
Andre is a great boss and an even better male. He would give the shirt off his back, but that’s exactly why I loathe asking for his help. I don’t ever want him to think I’m taking advantage of him or his generosity. But if anyone is going to know which art gallery will be hosting Selene’s work, it’s going to be Andre.
With a heavy sigh, I hit the ‘Call’ button, put the phone on speaker, and wait for Andre to answer.
“Caiden!” Andre’s French accent greets me after the third ring. I can see him now, dressed in an immaculate suit with an embroidered pattern that compliments his unmarred ochre skin and long white hair. He’s probably currently surrounded by his multiple lovers. “How are you, my boy?”
No point in beating around the bush. Andre is a busy vampire. “I’m actually in need of some help.”
Andre lets out a delighted gasp. “Caiden Miller? Need my help? I never thought this day would come.” He clears his throat. “I mean, I’m sorry you’re in need of assistance, but you know I’m happy to provide anything you need.”
“Thanks, Andre.” I wring my hands, nervous he won’t be able to help me. “It’s about art.”
“Oh! Oh! Oh!” The excitement in Andre’s voice is palpable through the phone. “Do you finally want to start collecting something other than punk band posters?”
“Not quite. It’s actually—” My jaw drops. “Hey! How did you know I collect punk band posters?”
Andre sighs. “I’m a centuries-old vampire, Caiden. I’ve perfected the art of reading people.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, it’s actually about a specific artist.”
“Do tell me more.”
“She’s a neon artist and she’s doing a show this week.” I pause, debating how much I should tell Andre. “I need to find her.”
“Neon, you say?” There’s a silence and I pick up the faint sound of classical music on Andre’s end. “I think I may know which gallery her show will be at.”
I perk up. “Really?”
“Yes, darling,” Andre purrs. “What kind of collector would I be if I didn’t stay on top of all the showings in Nashville?”
“Which gallery?” I scramble around for a piece of paper and pen.
“I’ll tell you, but on one condition.”
I frown, unsure of where this could go. “What is it?”
“Tell me why you need to find this artist?” he asks.
Shit. I’m probably about to sound like idiot. Believing someone I just met is my fated mate? Callie knows how much I wanted to find true love, but I’ve never talked about such things with Andre. Now I’m about to sound like some love-struck teenager even though I’m in my forties. But Andre is a good guy. I doubt he’ll judge me, even if it sounds like it’s coming out of nowhere.
“She might be my mate,” I answer in a whisper.
“Mate?” I can practically see the fanged smile on Andre’s face. “So, this is a romantic endeavor?”
“Yes,” I admit, rubbing my temples. “I truly think she’s The One, Andre, and I need to find her.”
“Of course, darling. I’m happy you finally found someone after that shrew of an ex-wife.”
I choke back a cough. “Uh … yeah. So, where can I find Selene?”
“Selene.” He lets out a wistful sigh. “What a lovely name.”
“Andre?” I try to keep the impatient edge out of my voice, but I’m not quite successful.
“Alright, alright. You can find your lady love at Shadow and Light Gallery on Wednesday evening.”
I scribble the name of the gallery on a discarded piece of junk mail. “Thank you, Andre. I really appreciate it.”
“Just promise me you’ll bring her around to meet me, okay?”
“I promise,” I respond.
“Good, good. Talk to you later, darling. Toodles.”
And our call is disconnected. Now I have a lead.
The worst part is that I have to wait until Wednesday to see her.