The Numbers Game

by Frances Vidakovic

  Boys were always starving, Tabitha thought but she kept it to herself, smiling demurely when Rick came to open the passenger door. Inside the restaurant was as posh as they got, much, much worse than the place they went to on their first date. Oh well, it could only mean two things: Rick was either going to propose or spill the beans on LA. And believe me, for someone who’s been waiting her whole lifetime for a chunky diamond ring, the latter was still the preferred option.

  I need to know where I stand, thought Tabitha.

  I need to go to the loo, was the thought running through Rick’s mind at the same time. It had always been the case. Give him a big assignment or an all important project and the first thing he needed to do was wet his pants.

  Once he excused himself, Rick rushed to the bathroom and tried to think of the best approach while standing over the urinal. Why didn’t he give this more thought before? Why did he always have to leave things till the last minute? Luckily Tabitha was acting particularly decorous tonight, so maybe that in itself was a sign. It might mean she’d be really receptive to the news, maybe even congratulate him.

  No, no, girls weren’t into congratulating men for things they didn’t help them accomplish. He had better put that thought right out of his mind.

  When Rick got back to the table, he saw Tabitha had already taken it upon herself to order a bottle of fine champagne. She was sipping the yellow liquid from her long stemmed glass. Okay so maybe ordering the beverage went against strictly decorous behavior but still, at least Tabitha was slowly and surely getting herself drunk. Drunk people were easier to talk to, they always found bad news funny – sometimes of the ha, ha variety and other times of the hilarious, rolling around the floor clutching their tummies variety. Rick wondered which category Tabitha would fall into.

  “So?” she said, looking at Rick straight in the eye. “You obviously brought me here for a very special reason. Why not spill it?”

  Oh feck, he hadn’t expected Tabitha to grab him by the balls. Rick spluttered the mouthful of champagne he’d just taken in all over his black spotless dinner plate. Then he grabbed a napkin to wipe away what was left of it, dribbling down his chin.

  “I’m not sure what you mean?”

  “I think you do,” Tabitha replied, nodding her head. “Remember I’m a woman; I can sense these sort of things.”

  Oh no, she was pulling the Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus crap. Rick didn’t stand a chance with a Mother Earth figure.

  Slowly, ever so slowly, he did the only thing he could do. He reached over to take Tabitha’s soft hand into his enormous yet freshly moisturized one. Then he said:

  “Have you by any chance heard of someone called Harry B. Sangster, America’s greatest ad man?”

  The look in Tabitha’s eyes told him she had.

  That was definitely not what she expected to hear, Tabitha surmised as she got ready to meet with Serena for after-dinner drinks. After-dinner-with-Rick drinks that is.

  Really there had been no point in sticking around after he laid it all down. Yes, the crew at Guerrilla Zoo was moving to LA and yes they were moving in within the month. His only saving grace had been the casual suggestion that Tabitha come too.

  “Only if you want to, of course,” he said. “I don’t want you to feel pressured but if you’re open to relocating then I’d be more than thrilled.” Rick even offered her usage of the company’s counselor. “The woman is on retainer anyway.”

  Tabitha had politely declined the offer; then proceeded to instigate the second step in her plan (the first being getting him to spill the beans).

  “I think its best that I go home now,” she smiled, folding the cloth napkin and putting it to one side. Next she picked up her black clutch from beside her chair and stood up, to show Rick she was serious. Because she was serious. Ah perfect and it wasn’t even seven-thirty yet or half an hour into their date.

  “You can’t leave now; our main meal hasn’t even arrived!” Rick exclaimed, grasping at whatever to make her stay.

  “Sorry honey but I’ve lost my appetite.”

  Tabitha quickly regained that appetite however upon exiting The Establishment and sighting a McDonalds down the street. Oh gosh how long had it been since she shoved a Big Mac or Quarter Pounder down her throat? Too long. She wasn’t sure which of the two was best so Tabitha decided to order them all, along with a Diet Coke and Chocolate Sundae, extra fudge.

  “Oh and some French fries please.”

  “In what size will that be ma’am: small, medium or large?”

  Tabitha frowned. “Use your imagination,” she said to the pimply boy who couldn’t have been more than thirteen. That was when she summoned Serena on the cell phone. Tabitha figured by the time her best friend turned up to save her, her belly would be chocka-full and she’d need serious help getting up off the plastic chairs.

  Sensing the urgency in her voice, Serena responded with, “I’ll be there in ten. With a crane if it’s what you need. ”

  But a crane wasn’t what she needed, rather a friend who willing to cop an earful. And what an earful Serena got.

  “Can you believe the nerve of the guy? He didn’t think there was anything wrong with not telling me about a move which is taking place in a few bloody weeks. Rick thought I should calm down and try to see his side of the story. Now you tell me Serena, what in the world could his side be? Can you tell me? I don’t think you can, because the reality is his side doesn’t exist. I mean, beyond the fact he is an egocentric, selfish little wanker.”

  Serena was smiling throughout this entire monologue. The truth was she hadn’t thought or heard of Rick in such a long time that hearing Tabitha’s rendition was quite enlightening. There was just one thing she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

  “Tabitha, when Rick talked about the move did he say it was a maybe thing or a definite thing? Because when I last spoke to Markie he said the company’s final decision would depend on what I want. If I stay, they stay, if I go, they all go.”

  Upon hearing this Tabitha stared at her, with enormous shocked eyes.

  “Are you delusional?” she came out with finally. “Why would they miss out on the opportunity of a lifetime and millions of dollars because you’re not in the mood for a move?”

  “Because Markie loves me,” Serena replied defiantly. “He said that’s the way it is, what I want I get.”

  “Well,” Tabitha laughed, “Maybe he thought no news was good news. When were you supposed to get back to him?”

  “He didn’t say,” Serena shrugged. “I guess by now, he’s probably being waiting for me.”

  “Like I said, it’s safe to say Markie made an executive decision on your behalf. You’ve always wanted to live in Hollywood haven’t you?”

  “Tabitha, maybe when 90210 and Melrose Place were on TV but have I mentioned any inclination towards the place since then?”

  “Sorry,” Tabitha snapped. “What is your problem anyway? You have a boyfriend who has just struck it rich and you’ll probably soon be living like some queen in a palace, while I on the other hand… I have nothing except someone who doesn’t give a hoot whether I go or stay.”

  “So why don’t you go? Wouldn’t that solve the problem?”

  “No,” Tabitha hissed. “It would certainly not solve the problem. For me to go Rick would have to beg and get down on his knees. He’d have to want me to come more than anything, more than the roses want the rain.”

  “I think I get the picture,” Serena interrupted. It was a scary path they were heading down if Tabitha was stealing lyrics from Bon Jovi. She had a point though. If Rick wanted Tabitha to go, he would have to ask her, pure and simple, like Markie had asked Serena. Tabitha was right in stamping her feet.

  As for Serena, even though her invitation to LA was heartfelt and sincere she still hadn’t made up her mind. There were too many ifs hanging about. What if Markie and Serena didn’t get on anymore? What if she felt confused or trapped or wanted to run away? What if fo
llowed by a million stupid hypotheticals…It was crazy, she knew, but it was as if the past three months had wiped out the entire five years prior, the good along with the bad. The result was it left Markie a stranger.

  “So when will you know?” Tabitha asked, referring to Serena’s much-anticipated decision. “If you go, I’ll obviously be a jealous bitch. Maybe I’ll even sneak out there and join you; rent a place with some washed-out actress for a year. Just don’t tell Rick, I wouldn’t want him to think I followed him.”

  “Honestly, Tab I don’t know,” Serena sighed. It was pathetic, really. The more she thought about committing herself to a yes or no, the more she believed she belonged in a mental hospital. “I haven’t seen Markie in so long and I’ve forgotten what ‘we’ are like, whether ‘we’ are worth shifting our entire lives for.”

  “Haven’t you looked in a photo album lately?” Tabitha replied in disbelief. “On second thoughts forget about the photo album; what you need is the real thing. You need to give Markie a call and sit down for a chat. ASAP. He’s a hot-looking thing in case you forgot. Very hot.” Tabitha winked.

  “Thanks,” Serena smiled. In her head she knew Tabitha was right but her lustometer was currently down for repairs. “I think you have a valid point about giving Markie a call. So what if it’s against the rules of the game– some rules are meant to be broken.”

  She leaned forward and grabbed Tabitha’s hand.

  “I promise I’ll give him a call tomorrow.”

  And she did.

  At approximately three thirty pm, after at least three dozen failed attempts, Serena picked up the phone and dialed Markie on the cell phone. It was funny; once upon a time she could have told you exactly what her beloved would be doing at that moment, if he was in a meeting with so-and-so or taking in a game of squash with a potential business partner. Now, Serena had zilch idea, nudda. Markie could have been riding a camel in the middle of the Sahara for all she knew.

  He wasn’t though. For starters, Markie sounded like he had his two feet placed firmly on the ground. More specifically he sounded like he was seated and obviously in some office-type vicinity given the wealth of electrical devices resonating in the background (telephones, photocopiers, keyboard tapping, you name it, Serena could hear it).

  “Markie, it’s Serena,” she said, once the call got answered.

  “Serena!” Markie exclaimed. What followed next seemed like a body erecting to standing position, chairs scraping, doors being opened, closed, a change of location of some sort.

  “Gosh I’ve been waiting, hoping you would call. How are you? Is everything okay?”

  If an eavesdropper didn’t know better, they’d conclude from this introduction that Serena was either recovering from major surgery, heavily pregnant or an invalid.

  “I’m fine, so that’s a yes to both questions.” Serena paused to clear her throat. It helped having a welcome reception; it made what came next not as difficult.

  “I need to see you, Markie. When do you have some time?”

  For a second or two a heavy silence hung in the earpiece.

  Then came: “For you anytime is an okay time, but maybe it’s best we make it later tonight. Say seven, maybe at Luigi’s on Crown?” Markie could barely contain his joy.

  “No.” Serena shook her head in hopes he got her disapproval telepathically. She had a day off the set and the last thing she wanted was to do was venture off where there’d be people. “I’d prefer that you come here, come home for this meeting. If that’s okay with you….”

  “Really?” She listened to his joy fizzle into disbelief. Then hesitation.

  “If that’s what you want then I’ll come but are you sure it’s what you want?”

  “I think so,” Serena replied. And Markie understood it was as close to certainty as she’d ever get.

  Chapter 33

  Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.

  The moment of truth had almost arrived. Serena and Markie were reuniting as if they were Deborah Kerr and Cary Grant in An Affair to Remember, just not at top of the Empire State Building at 5pm. No, it was much more similar to the later scene when Cary visited Deborah at home and he of course didn’t know she was incapacitated, that Deb had been struck by a car running to meet him six months before at the “closest thing to Heaven we have in New York City”.

  Just like Cary, Markie also didn’t know anything. That like Deborah, Serena too had gone through trials and tribulations of the ninety-ninth degree. Not that she had lost a limb unless her heart counted as one.

  The doorbell rang and Serena wished she could freeze time, in order to change her clothes one more time. Suddenly the pink suede skirt worn with a new sheer white blouse all seemed wrong, too dressy, too contrived. If she could snap her fingers, ala Samantha from Bewitched, it’d be her baby blue tracksuit she’d be slipping into with a pair of well worn trainers.

  “But we know the likelihood of that happening,” Serena muttered under her breath. Tearing off her earrings and ruffling some of the flatness out of her hair, she figured this was as casual as it was going to get.

  Serena walked to the door, with what felt like a thousand-man marching band stomping through her stomach. By gosh, they were stomping hard. Markie, not surprisingly, was right on time, not a minute early, not a minute too late. Maybe he’d planned that, sat in his car for a while until the countdown began. Who knows? Who cared, it wasn’t important now…

  With what seemed to be a absence of breathing, Serena opened the front door to see Markie, dressed also a bit overboard, in his grey Armani shirt, black pants and pale silver tie. Oh but he had a valid excuse, he probably came straight from work. At least Serena assumed so. She couldn’t really be sure; his hair looked freshly washed, his skin still tingling from the slap of Gucci Envy aftershave. Maybe he stopped by the gym on the way home and enjoyed their showering facilities. Either way, a gentle stirring tickled Serena’s insides.

  “Gosh you look beautiful,” Markie murmured. He said it like he meant it, like he could not help but speak it.

  “Thank you, so do you.”

  And he did. Markie looked cuter, sweeter, much more edible than the flimsy images Serena had dredged up over the past three months. Oh gosh had he always being this tall and strong and manly in a boyish way? Have she been sitting on a Brad Pitt this entire time and never even known it was so? It was as if over the years Serena had developed immunity to his good looks and it’d finally worn off; pre-this moment she’d always thought Markie was nice and never embarrassing to have on her arm but definitely not an instigator of awestruck tendencies.

  Serena was awestruck now however.

  She didn’t know what to do. Reach over and give him a hug, kiss him hello or squeeze his arm? All these options seemed terribly dangerous now, as if with touch all her poise, all her deceptive strength would disintegrate to specks of dust.

  To think that weedy, pathetic, runaway Jasper could ever compare to this.

  “Are you going to let me come in?” Markie grinned, when two minutes later he was still stuck on the doorstep.

  Serena wasn’t even aware she’d fallen into a trance.

  “Of course,” she nodded, slightly shy. “I mean it’s your home as much as it’s mine.”

  Now how was that for an understatement? The house was really more like 90% his versus10% hers, if a financial militant looked at it in terms of contribution. All the sudden Serena felt a surge of guilt rush through her. You selfish, selfish bitch, you should be ashamed of yourself! What made you think you deserved half of three months in a house that someone else was paying all the mortgage repayments for? What made you think you could screw another guy on a couch Markie bought as your housewarming present? If he knew even these little tincy wincy details….

  “He’d leave me,” Serena answered in her head.

  And there she was thinking she was the special one, that she could take Markie or leave him, depending on how she felt. What a crock of baloney! She shoul
d be kissing Markie’s feet. She should be thanking the heavens she ended up with him and not some loser like Jasper who couldn’t even rent, let alone buy, his own studio apartment.

  Was this the real definition of taking things for granted? Serena looked at Markie, and for the first time she was seeing him not just with open eyes but with an open heart and head.

  Not that Serena would ever guess it but Markie was struggling with his own guilt at the same time.

  He was thinking “what a feckwit, what a complete and utter feckwit I am.”

  To think he chose to take a break from this perfect beautiful specimen for a couple of last minute flings. Fling being the operative word here because there was nothing more that Markie wanted to do with those tramps than fling them out of the house once their job was done. His mind wandered back to Sophie and Sammy, the twins from the night before. They were the type of girls one was likely to find naked and hugging each other in a Penthouse spread, with lots of big teeth, big bosoms and matching Grand Canyons down below. Not surprisingly, it crossed Markie’s head a few times while doing it whether his thing was the 237th or 433rd to be inserted inside. It was definitely a possibility and to think he had thought Serena’s twelve was bad once upon a time!

  But not anymore, nuh uh. Markie snuck a peek at Serena, with her long soft caramel curls and cherub nose, and observed all she needed was a halo to complete the picture. My little angel, my darling forever and forever – as long as bad karma from the past three months didn’t kick him up the ass. Behind his back, Markie instinctively crossed his fingers and sent off a prayer to ward off any bad omens. He had to take all the safety measures he could get.

  “So… it’s been a while,” he said with a smile, easing himself onto the couch, “To some extent much too long for my liking.”