The Numbers Game (28 page)

            “Lola.”
Markie called, clearing his throat and assuming his most authoritative
position.

            He watched
as the boobs came to a standstill and decided it was about time he put a stop
to this. He most certainly wasn’t about to have his kingdom toppled by a floozy
who was bad in bed.

            “Yes sir?”

            She had
taken to calling Markie sir about ten minutes after his first reprimand and it
had succeeded in making him feel like the old fogey who cradle-snatched a
preteen. But for the sake of formality he was prepared to endure the
discomfort.

            “Take a
seat,” Markie said, motioning to the chair in his office. He on the other hand
would stand; anything to stay concentrated and not to lose his nerve.

            “Look,” he
began, clearing his throat again.

            Where did
he begin? He felt like a nerd in sixth grade asking the cool kids how to get
‘in’ again
. But Lola’s not the cool kid, I am, I’m the school bloody
captain.

            Markie
opted for his consultant/observer approach.

            “Lola, it’s
come to my attention that over the past few weeks the company’s dynamics have
undergone dramatic changes for the worse and I have a sneaking suspicion you
are entirely responsible for it.”

            “You have
a suspicion?” Lola replied, trying hard not to stifle a laugh. Everything about
her demeanor said
why don’t you suck my pussy and do it properly this time
.
“That wouldn’t hold up very well in court you know.”

            “But we’re
not in court,” Markie sighed, well aware of her tactics. “You’re sitting in an
office, having light conversation with the person who helps you pay your
bills.”

            Lola
shifted in her seat. “Go on then.”

            “Okay it’s
like this. Rick and I have noticed lately the staff’s morale has shifted. People
do not seem to be as motivated to work and as a result the company’s
productivity is suffering. I want you to get to the bottom of this.” Markie
lifted a pen and paper off his desk and passed it to Lola. “You may want to
write this down, considering it is your assignment for today.”

            Taking the
paper and pen, Lola looked entirely pissed off.     “What about the filing? I
have a stack of filing to do.”

            “No filing
today, you can forget about your usual duties,” Markie insisted. “By 4pm I want
some form of detailed report outlining the catalyst for the company’s downward
turn - be it gossip or a rumor or stupid employee whatever, and an even more
detailed strategy plan on how Rick and I can remedy the situation.”

            “I… I have
no idea how you expect me to do that,” Lola stuttered. And she wasn’t the stuttering
kind.

            “Use your
imagination then. I’m sure you’re pretty good at it.”

            Markie
nodded his head.

            “You’re
free to go now.”

            When she
left, Markie felt for the first time in ages like he really had some balls.

            But in the
hours after that, his balls got substantially smaller and smaller.

            “What in
the world do you think she’s going to write in that report?” Rick pondered on
during their midday break.

            It had
been eons since the boys had let down their executive laurels and embraced the
real reason they got into advertising: long lunches. Lunches made up of
lobsters and Caesar salad and too many glasses of wine, all courtesy of the
company’s expense account.

            “Damned if
I know,” Markie shrugged. “She’ll probably come up with some bullcrap about how
everyone is dissatisfied with their pay and wants a fifty per cent raise in
order to stay.”

            “No way!”
Rick shook his head. “That’s my worst nightmare come true; waking up to a crap
load of resignation letters all handed in at once.

            “Hang on,
I ordered Lola to come up with brainstorm solutions to our problem. Which means
she better not have any bad news in that report without a pleasant ending.”

Rick did
not look convinced.

            “I think
it’s time to get rid of that bitch. You had her and now no-one else wants to
touch her with a ten-foot pole. What’s the point then of keeping Lola anymore?”

            “She’s
supposed to be my secretary.”

            “Secretary,
shmecketary. She knows how to use the computer about as well as I know how to
use a tampon.”

            “She
actually minored in…” Markie was about to comment on Lola’s straight A’s in
computer science but decided instead to let the argument drop.

            Who was he
kidding? Lola did have to go. If the fact that he slept with her wasn’t a good
enough reason then her bitchy reactive attitude and Serena were. Serena! Markie
had forgotten all about what she would think. Maybe once this game and her
movie thing were over she’d like to come and work for him as an assistant, on
top pay of course. That way they could spend more time together, have long
leisurely lunches. He wasn’t sure if Serena could even type but there were
plenty of night schools to train her up on those skills.

            Markie
entertained those heavenly thoughts until finally, at about a quarter to four,
Rick interrupted the fun with:

            “Do you
think it’s time we got back to the office?”

            He and
Rick had been playing the waiting game. The rules were simple: one waits until
the other says go and he waits until you say go first. It was the adult version
of the staring game; first one to blink was out. Not that Rick really gave a
crap for losing; curiosity just got the better of him.  By the time the boys
got back to the office, it would be spot on four and a richly exciting document
should be sitting on Markie’s desk.

            And it was
there, it was actually there!

            Markie and
Rick tiptoed lightly into the office, as if the folder was a mouse that might
quickly flee. A blood red folder it was, as opposed to the usual fuchsia pink
Lola preferred. Was that a sign of the terror to come?

            “So what
does it say?” Rick asked, as Markie took the folder into his hands, sat down
and opened it, leaning deep into his chair.

            Markie
didn’t respond right away. He couldn’t; he was waiting, trying to regain his
breath.

            “Markie,
what the hell is it? “ Rick demanded. Seeing that Markie was still
shell-shocked, he stormed straight over and attempted to grab the folder out of
his hands. But during the scuffle, all that was inside - a piece of photo-thick
paper - floated facedown to the ground. Rick reached down to pick it up and
upon flipping it over quickly released it, as if it contained a millions volts
of deadly electricity.

            Markie and
Rick stared down at the photo and then at each other, mouths open wide.

            Staring
back at them was a photograph of two naked homosexuals, one kneeling on his
hands and knees and enchained by a spiky dog collar; the other in standing
position, with a whip in hand and his willy flopping out of the cutout hole in
his leather bondage costume. But it wasn’t the gear that really intrigued them,
more the faces. Markie stared at his face superimposed on the doggy-style lover
and Rick stared at his own superimposed on the dominatrix.

            Then there
was the note, a paper clipped to the right hand corner, which terrifyingly
said:
AS DOWNLOADED FROM GUERILLA ZOO’S WEBSITE FRONT PAGE.  SOLUTION: I
RECOMMEND YOU HAVE IT UPDATED.

            Now who
was the monkey?

That night, amidst all
the panic and dread, Markie and Rick found the quiet resolve to sit down and
think of a tactical battle plan.

            “Quit,”
was Rick’s first suggestion. “Quit right now, sell the house and run off to Mexico where I can peacefully spend my last few years as a fully-fledged straight sex
maniac.”

            “That’s a
start.” Markie acknowledged, aware they had to begin somewhere.  So what if it
was a stupid, irrational plan?  “But why don’t we leave that as a last resort?”

            “Okay,
okay.” Rick kept pacing back and forth across the living room. “But just so you
know, that’s what I’m doing. If you don’t come up with a better plan I’m on the
first plane out tomorrow.”

            “Yeah,
right,” Markie replied, rolling his eyes.  Drastic measures always came from
drastic men.  “You don’t even have a valid passport.”

            At least
Markie was keeping his cool. After the initial state of shock had passed (he
was catatonic for about an hour) he picked up the pieces and put on his
manager’s cap. How did this happen? How in the world did someone get access to
making alterations on their website? As far as he knew that was the realm of
their part-time IT guy, Yin and he couldn’t even speak English. Plus given that
Yin bowed to kiss Markie and Rick’s feet every time his substantial weekly pay
check was deposited into his account, he didn’t seem like a likely candidate to
create fracas. It wasn’t as if the website’s password was something easy one
could guess, like a birthday or 12345. Rather it was a fourteen digit code made
up of both numerals and digits; the chances of guessing it were a trillion to
one.

            “Lola!”
Markie had cried. She was the only other person with access to the safe, and
thus the code, having requested a copy of the key after she annoyed the hell
out of Markie with her petty cash tin obsession.

            “The tin
cannot be kept in my drawer,” she had explained, “even if it does have a lock
on it. All professionals know it stays in the safe.”

            Yes but
not all secretaries trampled back and forth to it a million times a day. Once she
took it out in the morning, couldn’t she keep it with her until home time?

            “The frigging
bitch!” Rick enraged, suddenly remembering the fancy computer science degree,
“That frigging, bloody bitch! Tomorrow you’re firing her ass. You send those
tits back to Silicon Valley where they belong, you hear me?”

            Markie
heard him all right. But whether they were going to fire Lola or not wasn’t the
problem. Because they were firing her. The real dilemma was how to face their
staff again and reclaim some of that lost dignity.

            “For
starters we have to tell them what happened. That someone, without naming any
names, played a sick early April Fool’s Joke that got them fired.”

            “Yeah,
yeah do that,” Rick enthused. “Make sure they then understand the consequences
of such bloody brainless actions.”

            “Wait, I
hope you’re not expecting me to do all the dirty work. You’re in this as much
as I am, you know.”

            “How can I
forget?” Rick grimaced, “I’m the one who was holding the whip. Though when you
think about it, it’s really all your fault. All that ‘please let’s ride into
work together and go home together, hold my hand because I’m scared Lola will
eat me up’. Oh and let’s not forget the fact you’re about to move in with me
either. Doesn’t exactly take away from the homo image, does it?”

            “Fine,”
Markie conceded, “I’ll do all the talking, but you have to be there with me.
Otherwise they’ll think you’re out hanging with your boy band.”

            “All
right, all right, I’ll be there. Let’s just put this crap to rest.”

            The next
day thus entailed three tasks: firing Lola was number one; instructing Yin to
fix up the website was number two and addressing the staff was the final chore.
None would be easy but at least firing Lola would give him pleasure, so Markie
decided to tackle that one first. It made sense to kill the perpetrator before
attempting to remedy the infection she had spread. 

            “Are you
looking for me?” Lola purred, spinning around in the visitor’s chair as Markie
walked into his office.

            To be
honest, at the time he wasn’t even thinking “fire Lola” yet; his briefcase was
still in hand and the spiky dog collar picture in his head. But if she was
going to make it that simple for him, why not eat the bait?

            “As a
matter of fact, I do need to speak to you Lola,” he said, setting down his
stuff.

            Markie
looked at his watch and saw that it read seven forty five.  A good majority of
his staff wouldn’t start shuffling their feet in for another thirty minutes.
Maybe if he was lucky, Lola would be packed and out of here by then.

            “The
photo…” he started.

            “Yes the
photo,” Lola smiled.

            “You may
not realize Lola but you left one rather important detail off your report
yesterday.”

            “I did?”
She turned her mouth into a big O suited better to those clown machines that
swallowed balls at funfairs.