Fluffy(18)

It’s not the only part of her that deviates.

“You Googled him,” Fiona says flatly.

“I did,” Perky admits.

“He owns a gym two towns over,” Fiona grunts. “His sister's son is in my class.”

“You teach Fletch's nephew?”

“Shut up.” Fiona checks Perky with a strong shoulder.

“All this talk of Will and porn stars made me think of Fletch!” Perky mocks.

“That’s your trigger? A porn star made you think of Fletch?” Fiona is disgusted. So disgusted, she's forced to take another bite of her chocolate chip cookie.

“No, silly. Will Lotham did. The porn-star thing was just extra.”

“Let’s stop talking about Chris Fletcher and get back to Mallory Monahan, porn star,” Fi grouses. Her eyes narrow as she looks at me. “Call me Feisty again and I’ll call you Fluffy forever.”

“You wouldn’t!”

Perky holds her hands up like she’s an emcee for some 1930s vaudeville show. “Fluffy!”

I groan. “You guys suck.”

I get a self-satisfied smirk from Fiona that turns into compassion quickly as she gets back to business. “Don’t worry. My brother Tim is an SEO specialist. He can help us scrub all this.”

“Scrub?”

“You know. Online reputation management. That’s what he does.” Fiona points to Perky. “Remember? Tim helped her and her parents when the two dogs humping mess happened.”

“Online reputation? I thought he worked for big companies, making sure their websites float to the top of searches? I didn't know he was still in that business.”

“It turns out the real money comes from manipulating the rankings of really embarrassing dirt on people. He makes loads of money on the side now, removing tweets and Facebook posts about indiscretions.”

“Indiscretions?”

“Everything from sex tapes to drunk tweeting an old flame. Or the guy who was fifteen and sent naked pictures on Snapchat, but now he’s twenty-one and trying to get into law school and those pics are haunting him.”

Perky nods. “He got a bunch of melon memes removed by claiming they were causing economic harm to the melon industry, and that melon farmers might sue.”

“That’s a thing? They believed him?”

“The stupider site owners did, and that’s what matters.”

“But your boobs are everywhere. I’ve seen that meme on MySpace, for God’s sake.”

“I’m less scandalized to hear that my boobs are on MySpace than I am to hear that you go there, Mal. Why?”

“It was an accident. Came up in some search recently.”

“I’m going to ask Tim to get my boobs off MySpace. We didn't even think to go that far back when Mom and Dad hired him to clear my picture off the internet.”

“Why bother if no one goes there?”

“I don’t know. Just to feel like I’m doing something.”

I turn to Fiona. “You’re saying Tim could help me if this goes too far? Because I really, REALLY don’t want people to be able to type ‘Mallory sex tape Beastman spit’ into Google and find those pictures. That’s who I’ll be for the rest of my life!”

“Tim can help. But let’s look at old Beastman, first,” Perky interrupts before Fi can answer.

“What?” I’m so confused.

She goes into the big porn-video database and types one word: Beastman.

“Holy smokes, he’s done a lot of movies!” Fiona gasps.

Perky’s eyes narrow as she points to one on the page. “He looks familiar.” Click. “Oh! That’s why.” She starts laughing.

“Because you watch so much porn, you’re on a first-name basis with the stars?” I ask.

“No. Because he’s the spokesman for AlwaysDoll.”

“Her name is Kathleen,” I mutter under my breath.

“How do you know that?”

“He told me I look like her.”

Fiona starts coughing uncontrollably.

“When I do this,” I explain, making my mouth a perfect O of shock.

Eyes ping-ponging between the laptop screen and my face, Perky gives me an appreciative look. “You do! It’s as if they used you as the prototype model.”

“I’ll take Jobs Mallory Never Wants for a bazillion dollars, Alex.”

Fiona pulls herself together and gasps, “You said he looked familiar, Perk? You a Beastman fangirl?”

“No. It was an internet boycott I was part of. The AlwaysDoll manufacturer was using slave labor to make the dye for the plastic labia.”

“Always looking out for consumers, aren’t you? You’re like the Consumer Product Safety Commission for sex toys,” Fiona deadpans.

“Slave labor is heinous, no matter what it’s used to make,” Perky declares. “And besides, the one-liners wrote themselves.” She sighs. “That was back when Twitter was all about brevity and wit. Once they expanded a tweet to 280 characters, it all went downhill.”

“Right. That’s why Twitter lost its shine,” I reply, my tongue so far in my cheek that it might as well be coming out my earlobe.

“I do have to give AlwaysDoll credit, though,” Perky says. “They have a robotic clitoris as part of it. The guy has to get her aroused to the point of multiple clitoral orgasms before her vaginal walls clench around him while he's pumping away. Social engineering at its finest.”