Bad Girl Gone Good

By: N. Franko


Sylvia gave a tired shrug. “Sure. Just don’t fall in love.”

We both laughed.





Chapter 4



Nolan



Madison: What are you doing on your own dating site anyways?

Oh shit, this girl is feistier than I expected.

Nolan: Haha good question…

Madison: Don’t tell me you can’t get laid…

Ouch. Right for the jugular.

Nolan: I can tell you’ve got a fire in you

Madison: Is that your way of saying I’m a bitch?

Nolan: No, not at all. I like a woman with some heat to her.

Madison: You have no idea ;)

Nolan: Why don’t you show me? Let’s meet up. Tomorrow night?

This online dating thing wasn’t so bad. Innocently flirting with a stranger with no strings attached? No wonder this was popular. Surprise, surprise, I’ve never actually used the online dating platform I created. I didn’t need to after I became a millionaire. It’s like women could smell the money on me and just flocked to me. I never got to find out if the site worked so now was my chance. I couldn’t fix a problem that I didn’t know exists. This was my chance.

“I see you’re hard at work,” John said. He leered over my shoulder with a rare smirk plastered on his face.

“What? I’m researching,” I said. I set up shop beside his desk in the corner of the office. His desk took up the space by the window so I had to settle for exposed brick walls as my view. Not really what I had in mind for a corner office.

“Come up with anything yet?” John asked.

“Well, I’ve met a lot of hot blonds if that’s what you’re asking,” I laughed. “So far, the algorithm is doing its job. I’m getting exactly what I asked for. I don’t see what Angelina was talking about.”

“Do you think the problem is that it’s not an algorithm but a search engine?”

“Is there a difference?”

John had the decency to look alarmed at my joke. “There’s a huge difference. Love is complicated. It’s not just about looks.”

“Tell that to the droves of women who love me for my money.”

“I’m sorry you have to deal with that. I forget how lucky I am that I don’t have to worry about that anymore.” John said. “Can you tell if any of these blonds are scammers?”

“Well, I’m going to find out. I’ve already weeded out a few by pulling IP addresses and cross-referencing their profiles. Some guy in Nigeria had fifty different profiles on here.”

“Can you do that with everyone?” John asked, suddenly very interested in what I was up to.

“No. There are millions of users on here. It would take forever and might crash the system,” I said. eLove had a staff of nearly fifty people and only a small fraction of them could help get things back up if the website crashed. “Besides, it’s kind of a legal gray area. I’m just doing preliminary research. I was just curious to see if I could do it and with our current system, it would overload everything. I still have no idea if we’re rampant with catfishes.”

“Catfish,” John scoffed at the term. “Where did that term even come from? Are catfishes the scammers of the sea?”

It was my turn to scoff at John. “It’s from a documentary about some guy being scammed online.”

“Fair enough. I can’t remember the last time I watched a movie that wasn’t a cartoon or had singing in it.” John sighed a hefty sigh and rubbed his eyes. I guess that’s what you get for marrying your high school sweetheart and having three kids.

“How are the little string beans, anyways?” I asked. They called me Uncle Lala whenever I showed up, so I figured it would only be polite to ask. Who was I kidding? I loved those little kids.

“They’re… loud. And small. All they do is run around and sing that song from the one and only movie they allow in the house. And they don’t sleep. Ever.” Chronically tired and always stressed out, John was my reminder to always use birth control. “Stay single for as long as you can, bro.”

“Says the guy who runs a dating site,” I laughed.

“Are you actually going to meet these women you’re talking to?”

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