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Fiona twirls a finger around one ear while looking at Perky, who is now busy typing on my laptop.
“You don’t have to be silent about it, Feisty,” I snap, using an ancient nickname for her.
She laughs. “Haven’t been called that in a long time.”
“Probably because you haven’t kickboxed a linebacker into unconsciousness in a long time,” Perky reminds her.
“He deserved it! Chris Fletcher was such a jerk.”
“He pulled your bra strap. You drop kicked him.”
“The only way to deter a bully is to take him on, face to face.”
“Which you did.”
“Two weeks of detention and a stupid nickname was totally worth it.”
“Whatever happened to him?” I ask, curious.
Fiona turns a fiery shade of red, eyes jittery. “Who knows?”
“I know,” Perky announces. “I have magic powers!” She presses her fingertips against her temples. “O oracle, bring the essence of Chris Fletcher to me.” Yogic breathing comes out of her. She’s breathing in for four through the left nostril, out for eight through the right. This is possible only because she broke her nose in tenth grade, and ever since, she’s had a deviated septum.
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.”
