Page 29 of The Bad Girl
This is not the time to play hard to get. There is no harm in accepting the compliment.
Going against Maxwell’s instructions, I enter the text box and type:
Nadine:Thank you.
I take a long pull of wine, feeling suddenly hot. I slide out of my dress, dropping it on Granger, who responds by batting it off.
Fuck, that dress is at least five-thousand-dollars. What the hell was I thinking?
My phone alerts me to another message, which of course, requires more wine.
Tom:I hope you had a good day and that fashion-guy treats you well.
I exhale a shuttering breath, realizing that I am now in need of some help. I screenshot my conversations with Tom and Allison and send it over to Maxwell, saying:
Nadine:Does this mean what I think it means? It sounds like he’s interested in me.
Not even a full minute goes by before Maxwell replies.
Maxwell:First: How dare you! You’re supposed to be working under my tutelage. Second: Fashion-guy? Is that what I am? Anyway, it’s very possible you’re correct, but this just means we have to work even harder. Tom’s used to dating exciting women, and let’s face it, you’re clockwork-level predictable. You have to keep your good qualities, being safe, logical, and analytical, while showing him you can be a little spicy.
Nadine:How can I do that?
Maxwell:On my Instagram, there’s the video of us with Nola. Act excited, show it to him. When he goes to look at my feed, he’ll see a post I did up of me asking an employee—you—how to figure out Chatterbox. It will link to your account. It will look completely innocent to anyone on the outside looking in, but it’ll get the job done, and you’ll have Tom perusing your brand new Chatterbox.
Taking a deep breath, I pull up Maxwell’s Instagram, and sure enough, posted before the Nola video, there’s a picture of him squinting at his phone and me hovering over him in a low-cut top picked out by Stacey, directing him with an authoritative finger.
Then, I go to the Chatterbox account Maxwell purchased for me. Stacey edited the two years worth of feed to make it look like I’ve been on Chatterbox and posting the entire time. My head is photoshopped on dozens of bodies, and it’s so well done, I actually have to think back and figure out if I actually took those pictures myself.
Genius.
The feed embodies exactly what Stacey and Maxwell told me it should, a professional woman that knows how to cut loose.
I go back to my conversation with Maxwell:
Nadine:I’m both enthralled by my other life and terrified.
Maxwell:Now, be a bad girl and send him the link.
I copy the link form Maxwell’s Instagram showing us with Nola, and enter the Facebook Messenger app. After inserting the link, I say:
Nadine:The fashion guy treats me great! He even introduced me to Nola Laybecks today!
I hit send, take another large gulp of wine, and wonder if he’s taken the bait and is now perusing my Chatterbox account.
After twenty minutes full of butterflies with razor-sharp wings raging war in my belly, Tom responds.
Tom:Wow, just wow. I’ve really missed you over the last couple years. Seeing you after so long has me full of regret. There are so many things I want to say to you to you.
I immediately send a screenshot to Maxwell and wait with bated breath.
Maxwell:This guy’s taking the bait a lot quicker than I anticipated.
Nadine:So, what do I do?
Maxwell:For tonight, nothing. Just send an ‘It’ll be great catching up. I’m tired and going to bed’ reply, and if he responds back DON’T YOU DARE OPEN IT. But you need to be prepared for the next stage.
Nadine:Next stage?
