The Numbers Game (36 page)

            The Devil
erstwhile was having a riotous chuckle at the Angel.

            “You gullible
little girl! Rick is no different from other men. Sure, he may be acting all
sincere and attentive now but give him a few weeks and he’ll be stomping on
your heart in no time. Why take the risk?”

            “Shut up
for God’s sake,” Tabitha cried, having had enough of the debate. It was always
Devil and Angel on opposite sides, with her stuck in the middle. Fall heaven to
hell and they still wouldn’t agree.

            “Er
Tabitha?” Rick stared with eyes stunned to the size of saucers. “Did I just say
something wrong, to offend you?”

             Tabitha
came back down to Earth with a thud.

            “No, no,”
she said, moving quickly to fix her silk - or whatever insanely expensive
material it was- napkin against her lap. She said that out loud, didn’t she?
Tabitha reached for her glass of wine and gulped it down without stopping for
breath. A refill, that’s what she needed; getting drunk now was her only
option. “I’ve just got a few things on my mind. I didn’t mean for that to
slip.”

            “Anything
you’d like to share with me?” Rick leant forward and whispered. “I’m not a bad
listener you know.”

Tabitha
raised her eyebrows. Wasn’t that what all boys said when deep down they’d much
rather be listening to football commentary?

            “I’d
prefer not to,” she said in the end, despite herself.

            “Because…?”

            “Because I
don’t feel like it, okay?”

            Tabitha
didn’t mean to bite Rick’s head off but before she knew it he had retreated
deep into his shell. Hell, what was she supposed to do now? She wasn’t good at
apologies. She wasn’t good at sucking up people’s asses. She let the silence
linger between them like toxic gas until dessert time, when she was perusing
the sweet menu for the fifth pathetic time.

“Look,”
Tabitha started, resting the exquisite probably handmade menu back onto the
table.

            “To be honest,
nothing on the menu totally titillates me. Rick. I’m not into poached pears
smothered in sweet rice pottage nor do pumpkin berry pancakes catch my eye. I’d
much rather get a chocolate sundae and apple pie from McDonalds please.”

            “McDonalds?”
Rick laughed, wondering if this was too good to be true. “We are sitting in
LaBouche and you’d rather be dining at a fast food place?” He shook his head.
“Gosh I love it; a beauty who isn’t afraid to speak her mind.”

            “Who says
I’m not afraid?” Tabitha whined, winding herself up like an Energizer Bunny.
“Because I totally am a scaredy cat; about everything: love, work, cute guys
just like yourself…um…did I already say love? In fact I have every fear in the
book.”  Tabitha started counting them on her fingers. “Fear of success, fear of
failure, fear of the unknown, fear of commitment, fear of getting hurt…”

            “That’s
sound like some heavy baggage you’re carrying.”

            “Yes it
is, very heavy.” Tabitha stopped for a second, registering how it might sound.
“Hang on it’s not like it’s that heavy, like a noose around my neck or
anything. I’m very comfortable carrying around these issues.”

            “Oh
really.” Rick’s eyes and lips crinkled at the corners and he snapped his finger
at the waiter to signal delivery of the check. “Would you please tell me more
about this on our way to see Ronnie McDonald? He’s a very good friend of mine
too you know. Hotcakes with golden syrup.” He winked.

            Tabitha
blushed. It was like the thin veil of mystery had finally been lifted and Rick
was seeing her clearly for the first time: without the pretend-Angelina-Jolie
persona, without the high-maintenance meows, without anything really to block
his view of the real Tabitha. That made her feel rather naked but also free and
uninhibited. It was almost like saying: this is me and if you don’t like it
then go get stuffed.

            But Rick
wasn’t getting stuffed. He was driving her right now to the local McDonalds and
sneaking constant furtive glances in her direction along the way. A huge wide
grin – come to think of it, it looked a bit clown-like – was plastered
permanently across his face. Now Tabitha understood why some kids
weren’t
petrified of clowns. If you looked beyond the petrifying heavy makeup straight
into their eyes, you could see the life and love and a desire for fun behind
them. At least that’s what Tabitha was seeing in Rick’s eyes. Maybe once they
got to McDonalds they could finally touch upon the subject of Serena.

            After all
that was what they came out here for tonight, right?

Jasper never once
raised an eyelid as to why Serena had suddenly moved into a huge Californian
bungalow. He took her excuse without questioning it and Serena loved him even
more for it.

            “Living
with Tabitha was just a temporary measure while my house was getting fumigated.
Too many rats and roaches roaming the attic during the night for my liking,”
she’d explained.

            Jasper had
shriveled his nose in disgust. He too agreed women shouldn’t have to listen to
the pitter patter sound of rodents. Not that the house looked like it was ever
pest-infested. Serena had done her best to make it seem so by scattering cheese
crumbs on the granite kitchen counter and corn chips in between the lounge
cushions but Jasper’s eyes had skimmed right over it.

            “It’s a
beautiful house, and big,” he commented instead. But not in the jealous, bitter
way; rather with the astuteness of a real estate agent ready to take on a
client. “You must be rewarded well for your work.” Jasper smiled cheekily.

            “Well…yes.”
Serena swallowed hard. That depended on whether one meant monetarily or pure
pleasure compensation. In reality her scanty wage used to go towards groceries
and entertainment while it was Markie’s that covered the heftier bills and
monthly repayments. Which, God bless him, he was still allowing to be
automatically deducted from their account.

            “My mom
sort of gave me the house, you see,” Serena mumbled, regretting it immediately.
Not only was she now a posh lady who fumigated but a posh, spoilt lady who got
given houses.

            “Actually
it was more like my grandmothers. It got left to me in the will but I couldn’t
touch it till I was twenty-five. Which wasn’t too long ago; until then the
trust fund had the house rented out and the money invested was in…um, mutual
funds.”

            The lies
rolled off her tongue like Lifesavers.

            “It sounds
like your grandmother was a very thoughtful woman.”

            “She is,”
Serena nodded, “I mean she was.”  She displayed her best sad face and made a
mental point of deleting Grandma from her cell phone book. “Every day I’m
grateful for the loving gift that was bestowed.”

            Bestowed
my ass. For safety’s sake Serena made sure to spend as much time thereafter at
Jasper’s place and as little back at the ranch. She wasn’t totally sure why but
it didn’t feel right having a new lover in the house she shared with Markie.
Even though all of Markie’s photos and dead giveaway masculine possessions had
been appropriately thrown into boxes in the basement, Serena felt his presence
everywhere, like Whoopi Goldberg sensing Patrick Swayze’s annoying phantom all
around in the movie “Ghost”. In the lounge room, Serena imagined Markie sitting
on the couch watching TV with a remote in hand; in the bedroom he was sprawled
diagonally across the king size bed; in the bathroom he was humming songs while
brushing his teeth and in the kitchen his apparition hovered by the stove.

            If Jasper
stayed the night he would surely learn about Markie and Markie would know about
him. To be honest Serena wasn’t ready for that confrontation just yet, to share
her bed with two men, even if only in spirit forms. This was not to say she
didn’t think about the confrontation because she did twenty-four hours a day. 
D-day was approaching rapidly and by then a decision of some sort had to be
made.

            “Oh feck,”
Serena cried, burying her head into the pillow. “What am I going to do?”

            Serena
could not imagine anyone in this world having the same problem. Of course it
would be great if she could open Cosmopolitan and therein lay her answer but
writers didn’t write feature articles on Loving Two People At Once (though they
bloody well should), because most chicks usually struggled to hold onto the one
guy they had. This might explain why sprawled across the latest glossy mag were
the dreadful headlines, “
How to Tell If Your Man is Cheating
” and “
Get
a Man to Marry You in 21 Days or Less
.” Completely useless for anyone with
real problems; the magazines seemed to hint, “Two boys, you should be so
lucky!”

            “Maybe I
should do something about that,” Serena decided.

            She opened
the drawer and pulled out a blue spiral notebook and half-chewed pen. It was
about time those editors stopped printing dribble and started tackling real
dilemmas for today’s generation. Real problems like hers.

            Let me
see, how should she begin? Serena figured it was best that she start at the
beginning, that way the editor would know exactly what she was going on about.

           
What do
you do when two people are perfectly suited to you? When both are equally
capable of making you happy?

            Serena
paused there, and her first proofread almost gave her a mini heart attack. Damn,
damn, damn. What was wrong with her? She was in love with two men. Until she
saw it written there on paper - probably much like marriage and divorce - she
never quite believed it was true. 

           
Markie
and Jasper,
she continued, eager to ramble on. 
Both are wonderful guys
who I deeply love but I cannot choose between them because choosing would mean
having one and not the other. I’ve toyed with the idea of the impossible –
having them both.  In an ideal world, the boys and I would live together in a
two-storey house, with Markie on the ground floor and Jasper on the top so I
could flitter up and down, as my heart desires.

            Sometimes
I wouldn’t even mind if both Markie and Jasper jumped into bed with me. That
way we could lie together like a spoon sandwich and I could take turns kissing,
hugging and sleeping with them both. In an ideal world these men would be at my
disposal, because the thought of either one being with someone else, another
woman, is horrifying. Never, ever! They are mine; they belong to me!

            I know I
have to let go of one but how do you do that when the other spark is still
ignited? How do you put it out? When I look at Jasper, the new boy, I see that
life with him is just as attractive as the one with Markie, the old, the
comfortable and familiar. No better, no worse. I don’t know. Having these
feelings is scary because it tears me in two directions, one leading to heaven while
the other to paradise.

            The worst
thing is both are as beautiful and horrible as the other. I wish I could simply
close my eyes and reopen them with the answer in my hands, from you, or
whoever. So can you help me please Miss Agony Aunt?

Living at Ricks was
nothing like living in Casablanca.

            For
starters, his bed was a couch and that was Markie’s total personal space –
equating to about ten square feet. When Markie initially complained about this
lack of legroom for ‘entertaining’, Rick had rolled his eyes and said:

            “Don’t you
know anything? Doing it in bed is so eighties. Women nowadays want outdoor
action: on the car bonnet, in public restrooms, movie theatres, that sort of
thing.”

            Maybe the
sort of girls Rick was dating – they were eighteen, wide-eyed and definitely
didn’t know better. Only last week Rick had nudged him when his latest doe
arrived at the C-Lounge with another friend in tow.

            “What do
you think?” Rick had asked, referring to the stick-like insect friend. “Think
you could jump her guns?”

            Markie had
tried to hide his disgust. The kid looked like she needed not only a generous
dose of chocolate but also a healthy layering of fat. Her eyes had popped out
like bumble bees on her skeletal face.

            “She’s a
model you know,” Rick whispered next. “The magazines are calling her the next
big thing. Move aside Kate and Gisele ‘cause here comes Sady.”

            “Who the
feck are Kate and Gisele?” Markie begged to know. Actually maybe it was better
not to ask. If they looked anything like the poor kid here he preferred to keep
away from first name basis. “More importantly is it even legal to be with these
two girls? How the hell did they get inside? I feel as if a cop is gonna come
and arrest me any second.”