How to Date a Dragon

“Good thing,” Drake called over his shoulder, “if they’re as ugly as you mucks.”

“Ha. You wish,” Mike said. “Irish girls are the prettiest in the world—or at least in Boston. Brazil might have a few chicks worth lookin’ at.”

While Mike and Ralph debated the best places to find good-looking women, Drake settled himself in front of the PC and typed in his user name and password. I’ll delete my profile right after checking my last lead. He searched for “greeting card companies.” Bliss was the woman he wanted, if only he could find her.

Up came a list of them. He scanned and scanned and scanned some more. Holy shit. There must be a hundred of them. And those were just the A’s.

He slammed the lid shut. The card she’d made didn’t have a logo or company name on the back. Apparently, she’d whipped it up on the fly, so he had no idea which card company to call. The TV show wasn’t airing yet, and he couldn’t get any information on the candidates. You’d think they were protecting the next high- tech product from corporate spies.

All he knew was her first name and that she owned the struggling company. Maybe I could get her last name from the condo association.

Since everyone in the small building had been displaced, he doubted that possibility. Even if he did locate someone, the idea that they’d just hand over personal information about one of the residents to a total stranger was remote. He literally sagged in defeat.

With nothing else to do unless the fire alarm blared, he went to the online version of the daily newspaper. He checked the back issues until he found the one from the day after the fire. Maybe an article in the local news about the structure burning would provide a clue.

Fortunately, it must have been a slow news day and the paper had a photograph of the mayhem. There he was on the side lawn, kissing—or rather, being kissed by—the beautiful but elusive Bliss. Her back was to the camera, so he couldn’t even show her picture around the neighborhood. Damn.

But the timeliness of the photo brought up another question. Could it be arson? Where did the picture come from? Was it provided by a citizen with a camera phone or a local reporter with a cameraman? If the latter, how did they get there so quickly? Did someone tip them off? Drake didn’t remember seeing anyone. Bystanders were kept at a distance. The picture may have been taken with a telephoto lens, but the angle suggested the photographer was nearby.

An arson investigator would have been assigned to the case. Even if it wasn’t arson, a fire investigator would try to determine the fire’s cause and point of origin. Maybe I could talk to him. You never know what kind of clues might wind up in the rubble.

Drake knew he was reaching, but one of his double-edged traits was his tenacity. He wouldn’t give up the search for her easily.

* * *

“Claudia, my mother is driving me crazy,” Bliss stood on the porch and whispered loudly into the phone.

“Ugh. What is she doing?”

Bliss let out a long sigh. “One minute she’s treating me like a kid, and the next she’s begging me to get married. Aren’t there laws against marrying off little kids?”

“It sounds like you need a night on the town.”

“Oh, yes, please!”

Bliss’s mother opened the front door. “What are you doing out here, Blissy?”

“Argh. I told you not to call me that anymore.”

Her mother shrugged. “It’s your nickname, isn’t it?”

Bliss pinched the bridge of her nose. “Ma, I’m on the phone.”

“I can see that. Who are you talking to?”

Bliss thrust the phone into her mother’s hand. “Here. Why don’t you ask her?”

Her mother made a sound of disgust and pushed the phone back toward Bliss. “I don’t want to interrupt. I was just curious.”

“It’s not your future son-in-law, okay?” Bliss took back the phone and waited while her mother returned to the house and shut the door.

Whispering frantically to Claudia, she said, “Do you see what I mean?”

“Oh, Lord. You need more than a night out. You need to go shopping for a new apartment.”

“No kidding. Have you heard of any?”

“I’m asking around but so far the only places I’ve heard about are too expensive.”

“I guess I’ll have to empty my savings and pay a Realtor to find a decent place I can afford. It was good of you to look, but I can’t stay here much longer.”

“How did you hear about your last place?” Claudia asked.

“My printer told me about it. Her neighbor was going to China and needed to sublet.”

“So you just kind of fell into it. It could happen that way again…” Claudia didn’t sound as confident as her words.

“I’m afraid I’ll wind up committing murder if I stay here. If I look at it that way, the Realtor will be a bargain.”

“True. So when are you coming into the city again? I’ll make dinner reservations at that place we wanted to try on Prince Street.”

“How about now?”

Claudia laughed. “Oh, brother. You’re really desperate.”

“Did you not hear my interfering mother? At least I got a new greeting card out of it.”

“Cool. Let me hear it!”

“Mother, dearest, I know you mean well, but knock off the nagging—it’s a guilt trip to hell.”

“It’s not your best, but you’re probably off your game right now.”

“Probably?”

“I know. I sympathize.”

“What do you know about it? Your parents live in Florida.”

“Thank goodness. So, let’s pick a night when you can come into the city and stay at my place overnight.”

“I may never leave…”

“Threatening me won’t help your cause.”

“Sorry. Listen, I’ll call a Realtor.” Bliss shifted from foot to foot. “Then I’ll call you back when I have some appointments and we can get together the night before, if I can stay with you.”

“Of course. Maybe you can look up the hottie fireman you were telling me about.”

After a sad pause, Bliss said, “He’s tall, blond, heroic, and did I mention absolutely gorgeous? What would he want with a broad like me?”

“Stop it. Using the word ‘broad’ makes you sound like you’re from the nineteen-thirties.”

“Great. My mother thinks I’m a kid one minute and an old maid the next. Now you think I’m a grandmother from the nineteen-thirties. I’m getting a little messed up.”

Claudia sighed. “Don’t worry. We’ll sort you out.”

“I hope so. Well, I should go and call a Realtor.”

“Okay. Oh, and Bliss?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t be too hard on your mother. She just wants what she thinks is best for you.”

“Well, homicide isn’t best for either of us. Unless a nice homicide detective shows up. Then I’m sure her spirit will forgive me.”

* * *

“Maybe I’ll have better luck with the B’s,” Drake muttered. “After all, her name is Bliss.” He drifted off into a fantasy of how blissful it would be to make love to her.

He had called every greeting card company beginning with A and had to stop to recharge his phone. He felt like a dork asking for Bliss each time and being told he had a wrong number, or worse. Some people treated him