The Antisocial Network

"And?"

"And I told her I'd have to get back to her. The real question is how soon can we pull that info together for Gertie and when could she have it on her channel?"

"If we can get it to her today, I'll bet she'll want to run with it right away. It may mean a late night for us, but I think it would be worth it."

"Let's do it."

"Okay, I'll let Gertie know what we're planning."

"Perfect," he said. "I'll call Marlene back and tell her I can meet with her tomorrow afternoon. Hopefully, that will give Gertie enough time."

Dash grinned and held up her phone. "From her reaction just now, I don't think you need to worry."

Marlene

The next afternoon, Marlene was nervously checking herself in the mirror when Wes arrived in a Lyft. At first she was surprised, but a moment later she realized this could work to her benefit. At the worst I get to drive him back to his apartment; at the best he stays the night, she calculated.

By the time he stepped up on the porch, she was holding the door open for him, not even thinking about the irony of her action. When he walked in, she tried to give him a kiss, but he pulled away. Don't rush things, she scolded herself. This is a seduction, not a rape.

She gestured for him to have a seat on the sofa in the living room, and she took the chair across from him. As she did so, she crossed her legs, allowing her skirt to slide a bit higher. She thought he noticed, and was gratified.

"So, do you have the papers we need to sign?" he asked.

"I do," she answered, laying them out on the coffee table. "But before we get into that, there's something I need to say to you." She took a deep breath, well aware of how her blouse tightened across her breasts. "Wes, I just need to apologize to you. I've made some big mistakes and treated you really badly in the process. This whole divorce business - well, it's like awakening from a bad dream. I don't know what I was thinking: I was selfish and cruel and I don't even know why. All I do know is that I wish there was some way I could make it all up to you."

He started to speak, but she hurried on. "I think it was the prospect of selling the house that really made me realize what had happened." She gave him a little smile. "We had so many happy times here, times when we were full of hope for the future, full of love for each other. Now the thought of losing that is more than I can bear." She leaned forward, moistening her lips, a tear dampening the corner of her eye. "Wes, do you think there's any way we could recapture that feeling? Can't we start over? We don't have to sell the house. And honey, if you were willing to try, I'd spend the rest of my days trying to make you happy like you deserve."

He stared at her coldly. "Let me get this straight, Marlene. You want me to forgive you for cheating on me for who knows how long, to forget about the restraining order you took out against me, forget about locking me out of my own house?"

"Honey, I know I treated you terribly, did awful things that hurt you and sullied our relationship. Honestly, I can't explain why I did those things. It's like I was temporarily insane. But Wes, I've come to my senses. I realize what a good thing we had, I remember how sweet life could be together. Please, baby, let's not throw out the good with the bad."

He looked at her incredulously. "Are you out of your fucking mind?" he roared, and she flinched. "Let me make this absolutely clear to you. I'm an accountant; I deal in assets and liabilities. And you, Marlene, are a huge liability in my life. The sooner I divest myself of you, the happier I'll be. Now, if you'll hand me the papers I need to sign, I'll go, and, with any luck, it will be the last time I ever see you again."

Shaken, she handed him the material the real estate agent had left. As he took them, she noticed a car pull up out front, the engine still idling. He quickly signed, stood up, and walked to the door as she groped for something she could say that might give her a chance with him.

But before she could come up with anything, he turned and gave her a grim smile. "Have you ever heard of Gossip Gertie?" he asked. She couldn't help herself: she shuddered. "I think you ought to check out her latest program. You'll find it very interesting."

With that, he opened the door and strode out to the waiting car. "Everything alright?" Dash asked.

He nodded and smiled. "Everything is perfect."

As they drove away, Marlene hurried back to her computer, clicked on YouTube, and found the Gossip Gertie channel. She watched nervously as Gertie went through her introduction. Then, behind her, the screen showed a computer-generated inset with the banner: "Humiliated Hubby: The Rest of the Story."

"Hey, Gossipers, judging by all the tweets you've been sending, you all want to know more about the Humiliated Husband and his not-so-honorable wife. Well, now Gertie has the last chapter in the story for you. As you'll recall, it turned out Wifey was not seeking a divorce because of spousal abuse. Oh, no, she wanted out of her marriage to pursue an affair with her lover. (Behind Gertie, a graphic of an Order of Protection filled the backdrop.) She even got her lover to bribe a judge to get an order of protection against her unsuspecting husband to make him look bad. Pretty cold, no?

"But wait, there's more. Gertie wanted to know more about this conniving woman, so she did a little digging with the help of some of her fans out there - you know who you are. Anyway, guess what: Wifey was no innocent swept up in a passionate affair. It turns out the whole marriage was a scam, a con that she pulled on not one, not two, not three but five hapless hubbies! That's right: our hero was in fact husband number five - but he sure didn't know it. It seems our cunning Wifey - let's call her Mrs. Machiavelli - came up with a pretty little scheme. (Marlene's photo now filled the backdrop, along with the caption 'Mrs. Machiavelli'.) She'd find a likely sucker, seduce him into marrying her, then divorce him when she'd found a richer target. That's the little scheme Mrs. Machiavelli pulled off over and over again. And each time she kept refining her technique. She used the lock-out scheme on the hubby before our hero. Then, to make her plan even more effective, she added the restraining order to her scam. And it would have worked if some of Gertie's gossipers - you know who you are - hadn't blown the whistle.

"This time, it looks like Mrs. Machiavelli's latest scheme has been stifled. Her candidate for husband number six is now unavailable while he deals with a tax audit. And what about husband number five, our hero? Well, one of Gertie's favorite gossipers told her that he's headed off into the sunset with someone very special at his side. And from what I hear, he sure isn't humiliated any more.

"Before we close this saga, I have one last titillating tidbit to share with you. It seems there are some irate former husbands in California who would like to have a word with Mrs. Machiavelli. It turns out that the first couple of times she ended her marriage, she didn't actually bother actually getting a divorce. She just - ahem—'allegedly' cleaned out the poor sucker's savings and left town!

'So let me end with a word of advice to the men of Sacramento: beware of Mrs. Machiavelli. She's probably already on the prowl for her next sucker - I mean husband. If you fall for her, don't say I didn't warn you! And now, let me tell you about a certain Hollywood starlet who . . ."

"No!" Marlene shrieked, "No, no, no!" She slammed the computer shut, cutting off Gertie's grating voice. But before she could think of what to do next, her cellphone rang. Recognizing the call was from one of her girlfriends, she answered. "Hello, Marlene," came the voice on the line, "or should I say, 'Hello, Mrs. Machiavelli!'"

Throwing her phone across the room, Marlene screamed, "Omigod, I've got to get out of this town!"

Wes

They'd driven on I 5 only a short distance when Wes glanced over at Dash. "I was thinking: instead of taking the interstate, how about we swing over to the 101 and drive up the coast? How does that sound to you?"

"Hmm, a leisurely drive up a coastal highway, charming inns in beachside towns along the way - it sounds scenic and romantic. Let's do it."

He reached over and squeezed her hand. "It'll take a lot longer to get to Seattle, of course, but we're in no particular hurry."

"Well, as long as we get there before our funds run out. We're going to have to find jobs once we get there."

He gave her an odd look. "I don't think we have to worry about that, babe." Then it struck him. "Oh, right, I never told you about the settlement I received."

"You told me it was nice."

He blushed. "Well, pretty nice: $6.5 million."

Her mouth fell open. "What!"

"But after Uncle Sam and the state government take their share, it's only about half that."

She was still stunned. "That's amazing, Wes. Why didn't you say something before?"

"I didn't want you to think I was using the settlement to get you to like me." She rolled her eyes, and he hurried on, "Besides, it's not social networking money. I mean, it's not even as much as Gertie earns in a year."

She looked at him sternly. "Wes Hardaway, I don't give a damn about the money. And as for the internet, you let me worry about that. My job is to use social networking to take care of my clients' needs." Now her eyes were twinkling. Reaching over and putting her hand on his zipper, she added, "Your job is to take care of my needs. Think you can handle that?"

He gave her a happy smile. "I can do that, Dash Daniels."