I focused on the clickable pictograms displayed on-screen. They were surprisingly adorable, more than one clearly inspired by a fat cartoon animal. I was finding that Wendi often undermined my expectations this way, reminding me anew each time that beneath all the daggers, skulls, and anarchy symbols was a violin-playing straight-A student who very possibly had a thing for Hello Kitty.
“This here allows Tina to keep track of all the money going in and coming out.” Wendi clicked on an icon of a smiling dollar sign with googly eyes and whiskers. “We can subsidize whoever Tina approves and also allow them to contribute what they can.”
It went on like this, Wendi clicking and dragging various cartoon personifications, saying stuff the rest of us pretended to understand, until Ginger came to with sudden comprehension.
“Hang on. Wait a minute.” She flared her ruby-red nails. “Only Tina gets to decide things?”
“She’s the administrator of the site,” Wendi said.
“Why is that?” Ginger asked.
“Because that’s how I made it,” Wendi said.
Emily lingered a few thought steps behind Ginger in recognizing they’d lost the reins of their get-rich-quick scheme. “When you say subsidize,” she asked Wendi, “what exactly do you mean?”
Wendi appeared perplexed.
“You used the word subsidize before,” I said in an effort to clear up Wendi’s confusion. She wasn’t as accustomed as I was to Emily’s five-minute delay. “You said we can subsidize whoever I approve.”
Lily raised her hand up high, enthused by the opportunity to define something. “A subsidy is a grant or gift of money,” she said.
“Right, so, how much will we be subsidized?” Emily asked.
It was time for me to step in. To take control even if it meant having to audaciously imitate one of my toughest role models: Cagney and/or Lacey, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or Bea Arthur. As far as I was concerned, Dorothy Zbornak from The Golden Girls was second only to Robert in toughness overall.
“We’ll pay off Ginger’s debt using Wendi’s website,” I said in as Dorothy a tone as I could muster. “Emily, you’ve already had your debt paid off.”
“And then we can take it from there.” Wendi tossed a bag of tobacco and some rolling papers onto the table and began constructing a cigarette.
“Take it from there how?” Ginger asked.
“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,” I said.
“I have a few ideas.” Wendi carefully rolled her tobacco-filled paper between her thumb and middle fingers. Then she licked the edge of the paper and sealed the cigarette. “Once this groundwork is in place with all of us trickling in funds—”
Lily raised her hand. “Not me though, right? I’m only here for moral support.”
Wendi bowed her horns to Lily’s concern. “Correct. With the three of us—Tina, Ginger, and me—trickling funds through you, Emily, there is great potential for . . .”
Emily was pitched forward, clutching her diamond necklace. The gear shifts of her calculating mind were spinning.
“. . . a redistribution of wealth,” Wendi said. “Robert’s wealth.” She stuck her cigarette behind her ear.
This was just the sort of opportunity Wendi had been waiting for, wasn’t it? A foolproof way to get at the evil Robert Barlow. Why else would someone like her want to work for a corporation like Titan in the first place?
Emily and Ginger leaned back, appeased. They returned to their drinks.
It was fine with me that the two of them could mistake such a statement to mean they would be enjoying Robert’s wealth. At this point my main concern was that neither of them screech up to the Titan building in a red Ferrari. Now that I effectively ruled the purse strings of the scheme, I could keep Emily and Ginger from sabotaging themselves, and me.
Wendi’s dreams of a Marxian class war were another story—and an argument for another day. For the moment, that crisis had been averted. I was in control of everything.
“For now though,” I added, shooting a look specifically at Wendi, “nobody tell anyone else about this. Okay?”
There was agreement all around—except from Wendi. “What do you mean don’t tell anyone? What good is my program if you don’t use it to its full potential? We can’t build a network in a cone of silence.”
Or maybe Wendi’s dreams of a Marxian class war were in fact an argument for today.
“I never agreed to build any network,” I said as calmly as I could.
Wendi reared back. Her horns stood on end. “I thought we had an understanding.”
“I know you did,” I said. “But here’s what you need to understand. I’m just trying to keep myself out of jail. I’m sorry, but—”
“No.” Wendi raised her palm to my face and I braced myself to be hit. “You’re better than that. You’re better than apologizing after you betray my trust on purpose.”
There was betrayal going on all over the place, wasn’t there?
“Wendi, what do you want me to say? I’m not an anarchist, or whatever it is you consider yourself. I’m not an activist. I don’t even like activists. I think they’re annoying and self-righteous, and often smelly.”
I looked to Emily and Ginger for support, which they gamely provided.