Chapter 4: Carrie's Story
I typed back slowly.
*Yes.
How do you know that?*
Three dots appeared immediately.
Like she had been waiting.
*I was at the bar when it happened.
I recognized him the second he walked in.
I've been sitting here for the last hour trying to decide whether to say something.*
I looked toward the bar.
It was half-screened from the main dining room by a low partition and a row of hanging pendant lights.
I could see two women sitting there, one with a glass of white wine, one with her phone face-up on the counter.
The one with the phone looked up.
We made eye contact across the room.
She gave a small, careful wave.
I waved back.
"She's here," I said to Daniel.
"I see her."
Carrie came over two minutes later.
She was in her early thirties, dark hair, a blazer over a plain shirt.
She looked like someone who had rehearsed what she was going to say and then decided to throw it out and just talk.
She sat down.
She put her phone on the table.
"I'm sorry for the weird message," she said.
"I didn't know how else to do it."
"Don't apologize," I said.
"Tell me what happened."
She took a breath.
"He matched with me about six weeks ago.
His profile said Bryce.
We texted for maybe ten days.
He was funny, attentive, asked a lot of questions about me.
Then he suggested dinner.
Somewhere nice.
He said he knew the manager."
Daniel made a quiet sound.
"He picked an Italian place on Clement Street," Carrie continued.
"Same setup.
Talked about himself the whole night.
Crypto, passive income, how he was basically done working by thirty.
I kept thinking, okay, he's a little much, but maybe he's nervous." She paused.
"Then the check came."
"He slid it to you," I said.
She looked at me.
"He slid it to me.
And when I looked surprised, he said—"
"'I don't pay for foodie calls,'" I finished.
Her expression shifted.
Not quite surprise.
More like the specific exhaustion of having something confirmed.
"Word for word," she said.
"It's a script," Daniel said quietly.
Carrie nodded.
"I paid.
I was so caught off guard I just paid.
And then I went home and felt awful about it for three days.
Not because of the money.
Because I kept thinking, what did I do wrong?
What did I say that made him think that was okay?"
"Nothing," I said.
"You didn't do anything."
"I know that now." She picked up her phone and turned it over once in her hand.
"I reported him to the app.
They said they'd look into it.
Nothing happened.
His profile is still up.
He's still matching with people."
"What name did his card say?" I asked.
She frowned.
"I didn't see his card.
He paid cash."
Daniel and I looked at each other.
Cash at one restaurant.
A flagged card at another.
A fake name on a dating profile.
A script delivered word for word to at least two different women.
"This isn't impulse," I said.
"He plans it."
Carrie set her phone flat on the table and turned the screen toward us.
It was a screenshot of a Reddit thread.
May you like
The title read: *Anyone else matched with a guy called "Bryce" who pulled the foodie call check trick?*
There were forty-one replies.
