This is part three of the tale of a woman and a curious dating app. If you haven’t read the first or second parts, you can find them by clicking on the links.

For everyone else. Let’s continue!

—

When I got to the actual car, walking away from the staring public, it was twice as ugly as I thought it would be. A pickup is already a shitty car anyway. Power sure, but no class.

The light blinked on, and I heard the sound of my never would have been date walking over. I got into the car and listened to the muffled sound of his shoes against the street.

He opened the door and lifted his body up into the seat. He looked over at me with his perfectly sculpted stubble. It looked nice in a “this is all I could come up with” sort of way.

“Look,” he began, “Did I do something wrong? You liked my profile. I thought we had a lot in common.”

My phone chose that moment to go off again, and I pulled it out of my purse. It was only vibrating this time, but when I unlocked it, the application jumped to attention and this chuckle head’s account flew open. His smiling digital face stared at me.

“Sasha?” he prodded.

“Ugh, I hate online dating. Especially all the creeps on it who think they can impress with just a fancy restaurant and a decent profile.”

I looked at him and he didn’t seem to know what to say.

“But you know,” I continued, “I’m stuck with it. This specific application. Something I did a long time ago.”

“We know. We know. We know.” The phone chimed.

I held up the cell too close to his face. “Tell me, what do they know?”

“I… this is weird. Can you just call a cab?” He hid it well, but the bead of concern on his forehead shown through.

I laughed. “Like, what thing do they know? I’ve done so many, and yet I don’t know what I’m being blackmailed for.”

On that line, as if it was a stun gun, I moved forward and pressed the cellphone up to his chest. It beeped, and the voice came out all the more obnoxious. With my other hand, I fished out something from my purse.

“We know what you did to the woman. We know, we know, we know. In the drink, Barry. In the drink.”

His teeth clamped together and whatever front he was putting on broke. It would have been easier if I had just gone home. But no, the phone always had something for me to do.

“Bitch I will…”

That was as far as he got before the knife pierced through his throat and his words turned into a sloppy mess. Blood sputtered out of his mouth. It stained his teeth.

I pushed harder, and it broke through the back of the seat and his head slumped forward against the long black hilt.

“We know. We know. We know.”

“Stop making me a murderer,” I whispered. Knowing there was other people nearby who might overhear.

“But we know. We know. We know. And we know what you did Sasha. And what you’ll keep doing if you don’t want others to know.”

I tried to turn off the phone, but it stayed resolutely on. “I really wish you didn’t though.”

“We know. We know. We know.”

—

Special thanks to: Bob Gerkin, Collin Pearman, Dylan Alexander, Jerry Banfield, Michael The Comic Nerd,  Pulsatilla Pratensis, and Thomas J. West.

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