MAN TESTER
Lacey
In the steam of the spa the next afternoon, I contemplated telling my friends about Martin’s crush and cancer and everything that was going on in my life.
But I decided against it. That was the role Hennie filled for me.
Instead I did what I normally did. Listened.
“So, back to Theo.” Jo sighed deeply, bringing up the same subject again. “When I mentioned the situation to my friend from Jersey, she said she saw him last month at a club, and he was grinding with some skank.”
“Oh, that’s it. You need to break things off,” Marcia demanded.
“I want to be sure,” Jo said defensively.
“Jo, you can’t possibly still love him knowing something’s going on behind your back,” Carmen snapped.
“Yeah, Jo. That’s nuts, even if you just suspect he’s cheating,” I agreed.
“You guys wouldn’t understand,” she said morosely.
“Try us,” I challenged her.
“I love him. And if this is just some stupid flirting he’s doing, like you know how it is before you get married, then it’s not a big deal. If it’s actual cheating, yeah, I would break things off. But I want to be sure. Just in case. What if he’s the one? I want to marry for love. I don’t want to look back and wonder if I broke things off too soon and ruined the best thing that ever happened to me.”
We all sat there, frozen and scared of this insane confession. None of us knew how to react to the truth that was now out in the steam, possibly poisoning the rest of us with too much honesty. If we told her to break things off, we weren’t being supportive. If we encouraged her to stay with him until she figured it out, then we supported a bad relationship. And all of us suspected or knew he cheated. But girls had a bad habit of blaming their friends and staying with the guy.
“It’s going to be okay.” I promised her lies, certain he was cheating. I was a firm believer in where there was smoke, there was fire. “Take the next couple of weeks and really watch and pay attention. You’ll know.”
“Hire a PI anonymously, and if the PI gets caught, Theo won’t know it was you behind it,” Carmen suggested. “My aunt did that to my uncle and caught him red-handed. He had a clause in the marriage contract that he wouldn’t get a dime of her inheritance if he ever strayed. She got her divorce, and he never got a cent from the family trust, which is where the money came from.”
“I can’t. It would make my parents look bad; our families do business together. Spying on their son while they were doing deals would be suspicious.” She sighed. “I wish we had that guy-tester app. Or even someone to send in a hot chick and see if he takes the bait.”
I was struck by an epiphany.
Had we been outside, I would have searched around myself for the apple that fell from the tree and planted the seed of genius I was experiencing. It was a dirty sort of idea, but it could work.
The details flitted about my head, joining together to form a plan. A terrible, brilliant plan.
I needed advice.
There was only one person whom I could turn to for that.
We left the steam, splintering off in different directions. Marcia and I went for the mud wrap while Kami and Jo went to get facials. Carmen headed for the Thai massage.
As we were wrapped in the mud and plastic, I watched for the second Marcia drifted off. She always slept during this treatment. I didn’t. I spent the entire forty minutes watching her breathe deeply and twitch every now and then. Usually I brought a book or played on my phone.
But this time, the moment she was out, I got up and walked like a mummy down the hall.
I dialed my brother and hid in an alcove.
“Lacey?” He answered like he was confused.
“Yeah,” I whispered, and glanced around. “I need advice.”
“Okay.” His tone still seemed skeptical.
“What if I created a company that fidelity-tested guys, offering this as a service for a fee? Is that morally wrong?”
“Fidelity-testing service? Who would honestly pay someone—never mind. Forget I even asked that. We both know who would pay for something so stupid. Is this hypothetical?” He laughed hopefully.
“No,” I whispered, and scanned the hall again. “What would I need?”
“Honestly? I don’t know. I’d need a minute to think about it.”
“You have a minute.”
“Okay. Uhhhhh. A website that couldn’t be hacked. A system of being paid that couldn’t be traced. A couple of girls who could easily blend in and not be recognized if they wore simple disguises. A way of recording every interaction as proof. An email account that’s linked to the website that could send the recordings of the guy being disloyal.”
“Have you given something like this much thought before?” I asked quietly, a little worried.
“Yeah, this is totally what I spend all my free time thinking about,” he said sarcastically. “It’s simple logic, moron.”
“Can you help me make this?” I closed my eyes for a second and really contemplated if this was a good idea.
“Probably. You would make your entire year of tuition and probably mine in the next two months of summer. I would totally be down for this.” He was too eager. “I legit have nothing better to do. But I have one condition.”
“What?”
“Hennie. You give me your blessing to ask her out. I will knock that website outta the park.”
“Fine,” I hissed, and closed my eyes and forced myself into a momentary chant of do whatever makes him happy before I continued with the regular worries. “Are we going to burn in hell for manipulating people like this?” Second-guessing was already starting.
“No. Dude. If girls are willing to pay you for this, that’s their choice, and you should take the money. And it’s the guy’s choice whether or not he acts like a dick. Not your problem. This is like being a PI for love. That’s what you should call it. PI for Love.”
“I was thinking Fidelity Tester,” I whispered, and checked the hall again.
“That sounds stupid.”
“You’re stupid.” We automatically slipped back into our brother-sister banter.
“Love Tester,” he offered, ignoring the name-calling game.
“Man Tester.”
“Dear God. Don’t you claim to work at a marketing firm?”
“Shut up. Test Dummy.” I laughed, thinking how insanely stupid this idea might be and how dumb I sounded even contemplating it.
“Winner!” He smiled. I could hear it in his tone. “Test Dummy it is. I’ll set up the email account now: thetestdummyNYC at gmail dot com. The address is available; no surprise there. I guess there isn’t a lineup of other creeps putting money on the name.”
“Okay.” I inhaled sharply. “I’ll go advertise it where all the girls look, kinda random and casual, like it’s on the DL.” I took a second deep breath. “Thanks.”
“No, no. Thank you for the chance to contribute my talents on such a positive, healthy, world-benefitting project, with the side perk being you forced to accept my adoration of Hennie. First order of business, stop the players; next up, save the whales. I’ll get started now.”
“Okay, doofus. I’ll see you later.” I hung up and held my breath for a second, noting that the mud was staring to cool a little. I had to do this now or I wouldn’t ever get the gall to.
I passed a lady who smiled, understanding what it was like to have to pee after they wrapped you. The humor in her grin told me that.
But I didn’t have to pee. I had something much more Machiavellian than that on my mind.
At the doorway that led to the front entry where the lounge was, I paused, peeking around the corner to see if anyone else was there.
It was empty, so I mummy sprinted across the room to the side hallway where the Post-it note wall was located. I glanced around as I quickly wrote a note, wording it in a way that might entice my friends. I cleared a spot on the wall in the middle and placed my well-worded ad.
“Trouble in love? Trouble with trust? Or just desperate to catch that man of yours in a sticky situation and have him publicly humiliated? We can help. Email thetestdummyNYC at gmail dot com for more info or check out our Instagram, thetestdummies.” I read it aloud and took a photo, then sent it to my brother, hoping that insta-handle would also be available.
My heart was racing as I returned to the room.
The walk back was less suspect. I was just a girl with a mummy wrap of mud coating her body and a garbage dress. Nothing out of the ordinary about that.
But on the inside, I was a storm of second-guessing and regret.
The idea was flawless, really. I could get a camera, something tiny and discreet, and do what Hennie and Martin both suggested: wear a hot disguise, hit on the guy I was being paid to track, and post the evidence to the girl who hired me. The camera wouldn’t ever point at me. I would remain anonymous.
If there was one thing the upper echelons of society hated, it was scandal. I would be paid to be discreet, and the revelations wouldn’t make front-page news.
As I nestled back into my chair and watched Marcia sleep, I got more and more comfortable with my decision. I grabbed my phone and texted Martin to make sure he got the spelling correct.
The Test Dummy was brilliant. It was even a genius name. Why couldn’t the bug bars be just as easy a sell?
While I was providing a service that would earn me the money I needed, I was also vigilante-style saving my friends from shitty guys their parents forced on them. At least, that was how I was choosing to justify this to myself.
Guys like Theo were crappy boyfriends because they could be, and they deserved to get caught and outed. Not just because they were doing terrible things to girls they were supposedly in love with, but also because they were bringing down the names of guys like Monty, who would never stray. Everyone sort of assumed rich guys were dirtbags, and that wasn’t the case 100 percent of the time. Monty was amazing and loyal and sweet.
The ones like France and Theo deserved everything they got, and I was happy to serve them their just desserts.
For a price.
Not that the price tag would be anything to these girls. I could charge a thousand dollars a guy easily, and they wouldn’t even bat an eyelash. Marcia spent more every week on different face creams and perfumes.
She bought thousand-dollar sunglasses last week, for Christ’s sake.
If she knew I was stuck for school tuition, she would have paid it without asking a single question, which was precisely the reason I never told her.
I wouldn’t ever ask her or anyone else for money, but I wouldn’t mind earning it fair and square.
The anonymity of it all kept the transaction honest and me protected.
A small part of me, likely the common-sense side, whispered warnings of this being the worst idea I’d ever come up with. And that if I ever got caught, my link to this world would be severed. Even Marcia might not defend me and my actions. As an outsider, I wasn’t allowed to take certain liberties or cause major ripples, and reporting on the sins of the rich was number one.
But the cons of the case were weak compared to the pros.
And by the time Marcia was awake, I was set in my resolve to go through with it.
Nothing was going to bring me down from this high, not even the stupid party I had to go to with Marcia tonight, even though it was a friggin’ Wednesday. Who had parties on Wednesdays?
The rich.
They could afford to take work off the next day. And those of us who needed to be in their good graces couldn’t afford not to show face.