“For now, until I figure something else out," she says.
“This isn't right. It's not fair to use me for money. You need to fix this and find someone else to go out with this Nick person tonight. I'm not going."
“Fine," she groans. “I'll send back his two-grand."
I walk a little closer to Layla, wondering if I misheard what she said. “I'm sorry, did you say two-grand?"
“A guarantee is a big deal. His date needed to be a non-smoker, shorter than five-foot-four, between 120-130 pounds, a Gemini, and a hard worker with a side of humor."
“What the hell, Layla? What kind of guarantee is this?"
“Everything he wants in a woman."
“You don't think there's a flaw with these checkpoints? Like, what about interest in children, animals, a future relationship, career paths? Those are not things that create long-lasting relationships. A person'slooks are only the surface, and most people have a job, so—why does he have a requirement of a woman being a Gemini?"
“I guess he likes astrology. I don't know?" She slaps her mouse down and clicks it a bunch of times. “Damn internet."
“If you quit stealing someone else's internet, you wouldn't have issues," I add in.
“I'm frugal," she argues.
“You're running an online business, using someone else's internet. That's not considered frugal, it's just wrong."
“It's not just one person if itmakes you feel better. I pick the strongest signal when I'm connecting my computer. Don't worry. Everyone does it that's why Starbucks offers free Wi-Fi. Duh."
There is no sense in arguing with Layla since she has an answer for everything.
“Anyway, what else does this guarantee include? I'm not sleeping with this guy, Layla because that's prostitution." I shouldn't be harping on the topic after almost—kind of—sleeping with Wesley last night, but at least he didn't pay to go out with me.
“Just dinner," Layla says.
“He's paying two-grand to have dinner with someone who matches all of those specifications. That sounds like a rip-off."
“I admit, it is a rip-off, but some men are desperate, Mads. We live in tough times."
“You are admitting to ripping men off?"
“You know," she hisses, “people have taken advantage of me more times than I can recall. So, yes, I'm okay with it."
“What if this guy never even hurt a fly?" I ask her.
“Then maybe you'll like him."
“What if he has two heads?"
“He doesn't," she says, turning her monitor toward the wall. That doesn't scream “run" or anything.
“Let me see him."
“Mmm, no."
“I'm about to hurt you in a minute. I swear—"
Layla powers her computer down and stands up from her desk, stretching her arms up above her head. “I have a date tonight too. Go me!"
“With someone you met on your scam site?"
“No, I met him at Starbucks. I don't date guys online. That's just weird; you should never shit where you eat."
