First, my sole competitor for partnership at the law firm won his case and is being lauded as the next Johnnie Cochran, regardless of the fact that the case was a slam dunk from the beginning. The defense’s staggering ineptitude practically handed him the victory.

Second, my daft assistant entered the wrong time in my calendar, so when my biggest client showed up, I was unprepared.

And third, my blind date just arrived… dressed like an elf. I’m not clear on if she actually thinks of herself as an elf or maybe there’s a weird Christmas role-playing underbelly within the city that I’m unaware of.

Doesn’t matter. This is definitely not a match.

The only question is, how soon can I get this date to end?

“Hi, I’m RAINBOWRIDER.” She smiles as though nothing is amiss.

I suppose there’s not much to be done now, except suffer through dinner and get out of here as soon as humanly possible.

“Good to meet you.” I nod and take my seat.

She pulls out her chair and sits, sounding like a goddamn chorus of bells. The diners nearby all glance over, and my hand clenches the armrest of the chair. Lord, please, if you’re taking requests, please do not let anyone I know see me with an absolute barmy woman.

“Oh, you’re Scottish,” she says with a big smile.

“English, actually.”

She chuckles. “Sorry. Where in England are you from?”

A tight smile forms on my lips as I decide whether I should take the time to educate her that English and Scottish people sound nothing alike. I figure that will only prolong our time together. “I’m from London.”

“Oh, very posh,” she says in a terrible version of my accent.

I draw a breath. Luckily, the server arrives to take our drink order. I, however, decide to order my meal at the same time to shorten this complete waste of my evening. There are a million more beneficial things I could be doing with my time than dining with an elf.

“I’ll have two fingers of your best scotch please, and the salmon dish for my entrée.”

“Absolutely, sir. And for you?” The waitress turns to my date, and it’s clear she’s doing her best to keep her gaze focused on my date’s face and not let it drift down to her ridiculous outfit.

“Oh, I didn’t realize we were ordering right away. Okay…” She peruses the menu quickly and looks back at the waitress with a bright smile. “I’ll have a glass of your house white with the filet mignon.”

“And how would you like it cooked?”

“Medium well, please.”

The waitress nods and takes our menus. “I’ll be back in a minute with your drinks.”

I nod and turn my attention back across the table. “Why did you order white wine?”

She appears perplexed, so I help her out.