The Numbers Game

by Frances Vidakovic

  “No, just Tabitha. She’s been her usual egocentric, highly dramatic self.”

  Jasper grinned. “Oh, let me guess, you’re saving her from another crisis? She dropped her mascara in the toilet and can’t go out because all the supermarkets have already closed.”

  “Something like that,” Serena responded, burying her head into the warm curve of his faithful neck. “But let’s not worry about stupid things like mascara and cheating boys for now, okay?”

  “Okay,” Jasper replied slowly, raising his eyebrows. He obviously detected something on his telescopic radar and decided correctly to not go there. What a darling. For that you get to do everything that I will never let Markie do to me again.

  “How about we give dinner a miss and go straight home?” Serena said, stifling a fake yawn.

  It was funny how she had taken to calling Jasper’s place home, though if you thought about it, it wasn’t like anywhere else more aptly fit the description. Tabitha’s jungle cave was just that, a jungle cave and her real ex-home, at least on paper, the one with the slime ball Markie in it, could be better described as Bastard Screws Slut Haven. Really how could she ever go back there? Wasn’t there some cardinal rule that says: Must Never Sleep In House Where Man Has Screwed Other Women? Wasn’t that the test that separated good-time girls from the angels?

  “You do realize that if there’s no dinner first I’m gonna have to eat you all up?” Jasper threatened.

  “Yes,” Serena replied bashfully, trying to keep her mouth from breaking out into a Grand Canyon grin.

  Why let on that that was actually what she was counting on...

  Feck, feck, feck, feck, feck!

  If Markie could have it his way he’d be saying this word repeatedly for the next forty days and forty nights. But he couldn’t because he had someone else to consider, the very person who got him into this mess. Clarissa. He looked at her and tried to discern whether her attractiveness had gone up, down or stayed exactly the same since the awful encounter with Serena. Amazingly enough, the package still looked okay, the greenish eyes may look a bit confused but the body and face were as healthy and vibrant as ever.

  “Was that someone you know?” Clarissa asked tentatively. Like all women, she had the uncanny ability to decipher different types of heys, though as a lawyer she’d probably have picked Serena as ex-girlfriend material even without it. Why else would Markie have been forced to crush her fingers in their grasp?

  “Sort of,” Markie replied. Because that wasn’t a lie; he did sort of know Serena. She was sort of the girl he was going to propose to once upon a time.

  “She seems nice,” Clarissa smiled and Markie automatically froze inside.

  He hated when girls did that! Seemed nice, how in the world did a person gather that after a second’s viewing? Was Serena displaying some telltale signs that indicated she paid her bills on time, went to church on Christmas and didn’t take holy bread without confession? Hang on…on second thoughts maybe she did display telltale signs, because those were the same thoughts that had run through Markie’s mind upon first meeting. Maybe Clarissa also relied on her intuition, and that’s what made her a success both in the courtroom and out.

  “Yeah I guess,” Markie said, looking back over his shoulder wistfully. All he could see was the back of a hundred heads.

  Clarissa stopped, just as promised, at the hot-dog vendor parked beneath C-Lounge’s entrance and ordered two extra-large, with everything servings.

  “Oh but I’m not hungry,” Markie commented, rubbing his stomach to indicate it was full of heartache and sorrow.

  “That’s okay, I only ordered for myself,” Clarissa hummed, watching the pink flaccid sausages and onions sizzle on the iron grid. “Did you want one too?” she asked, in between salivating.

  “No, I’d rather not,” Markie squirmed, feeling somewhat like he wanted to throw up. He knew they said it was great when a girl has a big appetite but surely there were some exceptions, like after a sighting of your girlfriend it should be banned.

  Once the hotdogs were done and Clarissa had the little suckers sitting on a hundred napkins, they took to the nearest bench and convened there until Clarissa washed them down with Coke and sufficiently licked her fingers clean. Markie didn’t mean to but he went dead quiet at this point, given the Serena situation. Except this silence unfortunately excited Clarissa incredibly. Oh Lord what a find, call Cosmo immediately! Here’s a man who isn’t trying to jump my guns, who isn’t trying to do anything...

  “Would you like to escort me home?” she said shyly, after a little while of simply eyeballing one other, “I live only around the corner but I don’t like to walk home alone.”

  “Excuse me?” Markie broke from his reverie to listen as Clarissa stated the same proposition again.

  Would he like to take her home? He didn’t hear her the first time because all that eyeballing gave him time to think more about Serena. What was she doing going to C-Lounge, especially on her own? Was she meeting someone? She had to be. Serena looked too beautiful, wearing a tight new dress and some snazzy silver earrings. Everything about her was new looking and this freaked Markie out cause there was nothing which he could grasp and say: I know that, I was there, that was once a part of me and you.

  “So?” Clarissa asked for the third time, this time a bit more impatiently.

  “I don’t know; is it far?” he mumbled, wondering erstwhile whether it was too late to go back and pick up the pieces of his broken heart.

  “No, it isn’t,” the lawyer sighed.

  She was borderline ready to give up. “But even if it was, I would insist you join me. There’s nothing to fear, you know, I don’t bite.”

  Markie paused and debated the issue of ‘to reject’ or ‘not reject’ the offer. The last thing he wanted to do right now was get seduced by yet another woman. Women as far as he could tell only contributed to greater and more complex problems. He loved Serena, and thus Serena it had to be and no one else.

  Then again Serena hadn’t stopped to say hello and maybe, just maybe, it was because she was carrying out her end of the game. Possibly right now she was kissing some nameless ex-lover on top of a podium in the C-Lounge, grinding crotch to groin, eager to get into his pants. If so, Markie didn’t have any choice. He would have to sleep with Clarissa.

  “Fine,” he said, slapping his knees with new resolve, “it would be my pleasure to walk you home.”

  As long as on the way they could stop and purchase a pack of chewing gum for his date. Once the onion smell eroded he would put aside all idealistic thoughts about Serena and get back to work drilling more notches into his bedpost. Clarissa here would be number four and given that it was almost week five, Markie was way behind on schedule.

  Though really when did anything go according to schedule? Life wasn’t like it and luckily in this department Markie knew he had nothing to fear. For him - in both love and sex- nothing ever, ever went according to plan.

  When it came to careers in a previous lifetime, Tabitha decided she must have been a party planner.

  Yep she could see it now, being best buds with Bacchus, the Roman god of wine and intoxication planning the March two day festival Bacchanalia in Rome. Nowadays there were no good orgies held anywhere but back then… now they knew how to honor Dionysus: the infamous celebrations were so notorious for their sexual and criminal character that in 186 BC the Roman Senate was forced to forbid them.

  Luckily, her years had taught Tabitha a bit of astute restraint.

  “To the best of my ability, I promise not to do anything which will get me banned from The Land of Serena,” she said, while scouring the liquor store to find bottles with the highest alcohol content.

  Earlier Tabitha decided that anything with less than 20% was a complete waste of money, thus the reason for lack of beer (which topped at 4.5%) and wine (it was hard to find one at twenty per cent). Instead there were about five groceries bags sitting in her trolley of pre-purchased Coke and Sprite
with an interesting array of liquor.

  Vodka of course appeared as a feature act, given its dependable 40%+ content, but also making an appearance was whiskey at 43%, Tequila at 40%, and the rare-to-find but delicious Veccia (another 40%). Hidden in the corner of the trolley (under the balloons and streamers) was also her one secret treasure Tia Maria but it was best not to mention it as it had a less than impressive alcohol content.

  “Whoa, that quite a truckload,” Martin said when Tabitha started plopping the stuff near the register. She and Martin were on a first name basis, and had been ever since Tabitha discovered the beauty in having a friend with access to unlimited booze at three o’clock in the morning.

  “Party?”

  “Um…sort of.” Tabitha hated to commit to a yes or no lest her ‘friend’ request an invite. “It’s a girl thing actually,” she added quickly ingeniously.

  “Ooooh!” His eyes lit up like Christmas sparkles and Tabitha knew what he was thinking. How even if there were a hundred girls invited, all would be rolling about naked by midnight if they consumed that lot. But that wasn’t part of Tabitha’s plan. Tab just needed one girl to lose full use of her cerebral faculty: Serena.

  Speaking of Serena, Tabitha hadn’t seen the girl for at least three days. This avoidance was intentional, probably on both parts: Serena’s because she was too embarrassed to show signs of being a love struck fool and Tabitha’s as she feared Serena would ditch attending the party on the first opportunity. But if she didn’t see her, then she couldn’t do that, Tabitha smiled to herself. Besides the party was on Sunday night…it was not like Serena had anything better to do than reminisce and recover from her Yosemite trip.

  The South American quartet – Dominique, Enrique, Fernando and Ramiro had thankfully all been up for the challenge, but then what guy wouldn’t be? Two hundred and fifty bucks for the first guy who gets Serena into the sack; with only one condition and that was the others keep their hands away after the deed was done. The boys had naturally looked at Tabitha as if she was a fruitcake: not only do you want one of us to screw your best friend; you plan to make it easy-peasy for us? That and the guarantee of unlimited alcohol (this was where Martin might come in handy) had secured their spot on top of the guest list.

  All Tabitha had to worry about now was decorating her terrace. The theme -and she was not joking when she said it the first time- was Sexual Predators. She thought this was a good change from all the Abba and Madonna tributes. The by-line on the invite, which was a cost-effective condom packet with a two-by-two inch card attached to the back, had stated furthermore:

  Come Dressed as Your Biggest Fantasy.

  In order to avoid any boring people ruining the party by coming in normal clothes Tabitha was prepared to stand by her front door, dressed in her leather bunny suit with matching whip all night if required, with a supply of backup costumes in tow. Because there would be no normal clothes floating about in her party, Tabitha would see to that. Anyone who hadn’t wisely dressed appropriately right from the start would be very sorry they hadn’t because they didn’t know what scary crap Tabitha had locked up in her closet!

  Tabitha had chosen to forego the usual balloon ornaments for blown-up glow-in-the-dark condoms. On the walls she had already adorned a stack of the Playboy Playmate posters her dad kept hidden in the garage (surely a man didn’t need THAT many). That along with a few good soft porn videos (which she planned to have flickering against the wall using an overhead projector) and the ambience of a brothel would be complete.

  As for food, all the hor’dourves were quite cleverly cut into mini-penis, breast and fanny shaped pieces (the ricotta-filled pastizzi needed no alteration whatsoever). Hopefully her guests wouldn’t feel as though they were being subliminally sexually assaulted so just in case Tabitha tackled this potential problem by rapidly increasing the guest list every day. That way if some of her guests drew back and ran away in horror, she’d still have enough around to make Serena feel okay about going to bed with one of the Brazilian Force. All the girls: Champagne, Violet, Becca, Norma-Jean, and Ainslie were already in on the trick.

  “We want Serena to feel comfortable on the night,” Tabitha had briefed them, “It’s not fair that Markie is out there screwing other chicks while she lays in bed and cries herself to sleep every night. We want Serena to have fun, girls, do you know what fun is?”

  “Yes,” they had all nodded knowingly. Fun = excess alcohol = sex with good-looking stranger.

  “Good then,” Tabitha sighed, “then I don’t want to see her ever with an empty glass or empty gaze.”

  Not even for a second. The girls nodded, no further explanation was required.

  Chapter 17

  Erstwhile on the other side of San Francisco, Yosemite was a picture perfect postcard of a fading winter and season of solitude.

  Serena looked at the brochure again and frowned at the devilish word: Snow. Something definitely did not sit right there. As far as she was concerned late February did not constitute true winter nor did it constitute white puffs of nebular. Mmm… maybe the one woolly jumper she had the insight to pack could double as pajamas, evening wear and an interesting pair of leg-warmers.

  “It’s not really going to snow, is it?” Serena asked, tilting the glorious ashen-tipped mountain photo on the cover Jasper’s way. “Is it?” she repeated when no response was forthcoming.

  “Huh?” Jasper jerked his head her way.

  He was obviously preoccupied with driving down the busy freeway (giving more evidence to the theory men couldn’t multitask at all.) For a moment he almost defied belief by reaching over to squeeze her hand but then he pulled it back just as quickly to the steering wheel when a zooming yellow convertible zipped in front of them.

  “Oh snow,” he said, acknowledging the magazine. “Yeah it might do, I thought the compulsory snow chains would have given that away.”

  “No. I thought they were just for show.”

  Serena had read the Yosemite Rules and presumed the first one in CAPITALS and bold print was clearly a bit pretentious.

  Between November 1st and March 31st, you are REQUIRED to carry tire chains even if you are driving a four-wheel drive vehicle and all roads are open with no restrictions. If you do not have chains you may be cited.

  It was the equivalent of forcing all teen girls to go on the pill during their formative, highly horny years, just in case they got pregnant. But Serena shouldn’t go there…after all she probably WAS the only person in San Francisco who had never been to Yosemite, despite its ‘close’ proximity. Mmm, wow, just four and a half hours, gosh people obviously didn’t realize that in the same time one could almost fly to the other side of the country…

  Serena flipped through the brochure until it came to the page displaying where she and Jasper were staying: Yosemite Lakes Lodge. That was Lodge as in Not Tent-Style Cabin, which was what Jasper had first suggested, surely for a laugh. Luckily Serena had heard about those infamous canvas tents in Curry Village where the only wood was in the framing, and the only remotely civilized features were the electric lights (no heat, plumbing, outlets, phones or TV which to Serena equaled four strikes and you’re out).

  “Sorry, sincerely I am,” Serena had said as daintily as possible. “But I’m allergic to non-avant-garde facilities.”

  This was how they came to be standing in front of a quaint chocolate- colored Hansel and Gretel house.

  “Oh and to think there is a bath inside!” Serena squealed with delight, jumping out of the car.

  Her legs initially felt like wet spaghetti from the lack of blood circulation after the long drive but once she got moving, all was well. By gosh it was fantastic! Quite by fluke they had scored a spot in the parking lot close to the cabin and now Serena’s eyes were busy scanning across everything in sight. Ah the beauty of it all! Gift shops, restaurants, and trees, she’d never seen trees so huge, so skeletal reaching up into the sky, almost like fishing rods that God had left dangling so long from the clouds
they had taken root. And no snow, contrary to the threats of Yosemite brochure writers…just fresh, ice-cold air whipping through her hair.

  “Serena, the food!” Jasper nodded, slightly panicky, to the picnic basket in the backseat. His own arms were already full with two carry bags. “You haven’t already forgotten what was said about the bears, have you?”

  “How could I?” Serena grinned.

  Yosemite was what they called a BEAR HABITAT. These animals had been the focus of half the bloody manual:

  Do not feed bears, do not taunt them. Bears are stronger than you and if you feed, taunt or tease them they may attack you in return. Note there has never been an unprovoked attacked by a black bear in Yosemite. If a bear does approach you make noise, wave your arms and throw SMALL stones at the bear

  Serena wasn’t quite sure whether this last insertion was a joke or not; did one really want to risk getting the bear on their bad side?

  Most importantly, NEVER EVER leave ANY food ANYWHERE in your car (or anything resembling food or food containers for that matter. This includes ice chests, pizza boxes, candy wrappers or anything that might possibly smell like food including toothpaste, soap, lotions, coffee, garbage etc). Please use the bear boxes provided and keep them CLOSED at all times.

  Luckily bears and food were the last thing on Serena’s mind. Instead all she could think about was the moment she and Jasper retired to their warm rooms. He had seen her naked already of course, for the last five nights in a row actually but they had never been naked together on a fluffy cream rug or by a flickering fire. The thought of it warmed her immediately as she stood waiting in a metaphorical pit of frost. They were almost boyfriend and girlfriend now, she decided to herself. After all wasn’t this what boyfriends and girlfriends did? Sleep together, go on vacations, and hold each other’s hands? Given that it had been a while since Serena had felt the joys of giving birth to new Coupledom, she granted herself the privilege of time to ruminate on this wonder.