The Numbers Game (37 page)

            “Sadie’s
on the cover of the latest Style magazine,” Rick informed him, “That’s a one
way ticket to anywhere man, but definitely not jail. Be nice to her and she
might give you her autograph.”

            Markie
looked back at this Sady character and tried not to laugh. A model, huh! He
could hardly believe how little it took to make it these days. Maybe he should
call Aunt Suze and suggest that his cousin Erma dabble in modeling for a little
extra pocket money, once the braces come off. 

            “So are
you gonna go for it?” Rick nudged again. “Sady’s checking you out again.”

            Blimey she
was. Markie caught Sady stealing seductive glances and flashing a white as
bleach set of teeth.

            “I don’t
know man,” Markie cringed, “she must be like fourteen or something.”

            “She’s
seventeen actually. In a few weeks time…but that’s soon enough.”

            Guess that
made Markie only what…almost double her age? Wonderful, just wonderful.

            “Err…no
offence but I think I’ll pass,” Markie had decided ultimately. Just for the
night he didn’t want to think about sex, notching numbers and crap like that.

            Surprisingly
since that night at C-Lounge Rick had gone through a similar personality
change.

            “So are
you going hunting out at some club tonight?” Markie had asked him a few days
later at work. He had asked it more as a formality rather than out of pure
curiosity, because he knew what the answer would be:

           
“Yes,
of course I’m frigging going and if you’re a real man you’d come with me too.”
          To which Markie would duly reply “
actually screw you, I’m staying
home tonight.”
 

            More and
more Markie enjoyed having Rick’s dodgy place to himself, even if it meant
having to put up with the ghastly grunts later in the night.

            “Actually
I’m off the circuit, if you must know,” Rick informed him, casually sorting
through papers. “No more C-Lounge, no more womanizing, I’m now a one-woman
man.”

            “Excuse
me?” Markie tapped his ear to make sure it’s wasn’t waterlogged.  “Did I hear
what I just thought I heard? You, the pussy chaser, studly king of riders, no
more partying?”

            Rick nodded.

            “I’ve got
to take a seat.” Markie let the shock settle in.

            “So who is
she?”

            “Why do
you need to know?” Rick asked, cheeks noticeably reddening. Oh so it was
serious, why else would he be blushing?

            “No need,”
Markie shrugged, “I simply figured friends confide to friends that sort of
thing. I know I would, but be that way if you must.” Stubborn asshole, he added
in his head.

            “When the
time is right,” Rick smiled.

            Markie
smiled back though deep inside, he felt like punching Rick in the head. No way,
he was not gonna grovel. Rick could keep his sixth grade little secrets; he’d
rather die than try to worm them out of him.

            Bastard.

            Markie
sort of liked it better when Rick was confused and wandering aimlessly around
the World of Women. Watching Rick on the dance floor was much like seeing him
play pool; given that he had no idea, his tactics were hit and hope and often
miss.

            But
present him with a girlfriend, a love interest of some sort and what do you
know, Rick was a new man all of the sudden!

            Make that
double bastard, why don’t we?

            Over the
next few days, the new Rick was careful to cover his tracks – not that Markie
was spying or anything. Previous rowdy calls were now taken privately and
quieter; new emails were erased rather than left open for show and no more
leaving behind Mr. Credit Card Statement with five figure debts out on the
kitchen table. It seemed Rick was intent for Markie not to discover who his
mystery woman was.

            “She must
be a dog,” Markie chucked to himself.

            Why else
would he keep it to himself? Knowing Rick it was probably because he thought
some other guy would snatch her right from under his nose given half a chance.
Dream on Ricky Martin. Anyway, Markie concluded, even if she was a dog, it was
about time that idiot settled down. Rick had started to remind him of that
excruciatingly frustrating friend of Serena’s, Tabitha. Now that was one person
he was happy not to have seen for a while. Maybe in the interim Serena had also
seen Tabitha for what she truly was: shallow, phony and thick as a brick.

            Except it
wasn’t likely; when girls were friends from kindergarten, it took more than a
bulldozer to tear them apart.

Yet what
about their ties with boys, or more specifically, their ties with boyfriends
whom they’ve lived with and loved and known for almost five years? Markie
frowned. He didn’t know anymore. At the moment it felt like their bond could be
run over by a toy Tonka Truck.

As if his life wasn’t
complicated enough, Markie then received a call with the potential to change
his forever.

            “There’s a
Harry T. Sangster on the phone for you,” Guerrilla Zoo’s receptionist buzzed
through in the morning. For the time being Berry, as in short for Raspberry,
was managing both reception and his personal assistant duties. Markie wasn’t
keen to risk another Lola situation for a while.

            “He says
it’s important. Shall I put him through?”

            Markie
didn’t know whether Berry was pulling his leg or not. It seemed too early for
April Fools pranks.

            “I’m
assuming you mean Harry B. Sangster, as in legendary head of Adland Palace, mega superstar.  You say you have him on the line?”

            “I think
so.” Berry sounded confused. “He doesn’t sound like a superstar.”

            Of course,
not when you have Eminem and Britney pasted up on your bloody wall.

            “Put him
through,” Markie responded, then carefully took his seat.

It sounded big. Harry
wasn’t eager to give much away but he did say it was an offer Markie would be
unable to refuse.

            “Can you
meet me for lunch today?” Harry asked, husky voice booming. “About twelve, I’ll
give you the details of the deal then we can discuss it further.”

            “I’m
afraid I can’t,” Markie stuttered.

            He thought
of the amazing Adland Palace, the dazzling photograph which appeared regularly
in the trade magazines, and wondered how the hell he was supposed to get to
something situated hundreds of miles away pronto. “Given that I’m based in San
Francisco; the earliest I could fly out to L.A. is early evening, if I’m
lucky.”

            For a
moment there was a pause then came Harry’s deep hearty laugh. Or maybe it
wasn’t Harry at all.

            “What is
it?” Markie asked half embarrassed.

            “Sorry,”
the tinny voice said, once it calmed itself down. “I find it rather amusing
that you expect to fly out and see me, when I in fact have requested the
meeting. For your information I’m already in Frisco; flew in this morning.”

            “Oh.”
Markie was tempted to add an awestruck:
for me?
But he held this tongue;
no need to let on Harry was his idol just yet.           “What did you have in
mind?”

            “I’m
staying at the Hilton; there’s a private meeting room here which provides lunch
etcetera, just ask the concierge. Can you make it for twelve?”

            “I’ll make
sure I’m there,” Markie promised.

            “Good. I
look forward to finally meeting the boy wonder.”

During the entire drive
to the Hilton and even the first five minutes of their meeting, all Markie
could hear in his head were the words: boy wonder.

            No one had
ever called him a boy wonder before. Sure he’d been acknowledged for his savvy
business acumen and strategic marketing ploys but it’d always come from wankers
in the business who kissed everybody’s butt. That was the nature of
advertising, one day you’re the flavor of the month, the next another genius
was. No hard feelings there.

            But to
hear a compliment coming from the top gun himself: Harry B. Sangster, well that
was almost as good as Shakespeare saying you’re a good playwright. Harry’s
portrait was probably secretly hung up on a lot of aspiring ad men’s walls. With
what they called ‘his magic finger’ he’d taken about a hundred unknown poorly
performing brands and turned them into household names. We’re talking billions
of dollars of revenue here.

            “So you’re
probably wondering why I invited you here today.”

            Harry
smiled, revealed a mouth full of shiny new teeth. To be honest, for a man of
about sixty-five Markie thought he was holding himself together pretty well.
The body looked solid underneath the Armani suit with its shiny silver
cufflinks. Face golden brown but not in the George Hamilton way and only
slightly creased. If Markie was a betting man, he’d put his money on the fact
that Harry was still married to his high-school sweetheart, rather than long
disposing her for the token blond trophy wife. Actually come to think of it, he
was married to sweetheart – Markie had read about in last Sunday’s paper centre
spread.

            “This
meeting has come suddenly so naturally I’m curious. I’m sure however I’ll find
out soon enough.” 

            “A patient
man,” Harry nodded, “I like that quality. I won’t be testing it today though. I
prefer to cut straight to the chase. ”

            Markie
nodded in agreement, and then shook his head when Harry offered him a cigar.

            After
lighting up, Harry leant forward and dropped the bombshell.

            “I’ve been
watching your company for a while. The clients you have, your billings, general
creative product…I must say I’m impressed and so too are my investors.”

            “Investors?”
Markie frowned. In the wake of the latest Rick fiasco, his reflexes were at bit
slow. Didn’t the term investors usually involve money and buying out? Any
owner’s dual dream and nightmare come true.

            Harry
grinned even deeper.

            “We, at Adland Palace, are interested in making you an offer. It’s generous enough I believe, in
exchange for seventy per cent ownership of your company.”

            He slid
Markie a small piece of paper across the table and Markie took it in his hands.
Holy hell, scrawled across it was a six along with plenty of zeroes.  Six
million, they were offering him six bloody million dollars!

“You’d be
retained as Managing Director on your current salary, of course,” Harry
clarified. “And all your staff if you so desire.”

            “But what
about Rick?”

            “Rick, the
creative director?”

            “And
partner I’m afraid. He really should be sitting in on this meeting.”

            Harry
frowned, taking in this information, new information from the looks of it.

            “I was
under the impression he was only a silent partner, and not controlling either,”
Harry replied, still frowning.

            “Yes
that’s correct but…” Markie paused, thinking ‘but he’s my best friend’ didn’t
sound too professional.

            Harry was
right however, Rick was silent, held only forty per cent, and wielded no real
power in the top-level decision-making process. If Markie wanted to sell, then
he had every right to sell - the ball was in his court. But suddenly six
million didn’t look so appealing; pay Rick out and that left him only $3.6
million.

            “Is the
figure negotiable?” he asked, deciding he’d much prefer to have at least five.

            “Within
reason,” Harry said, all smiling again because he knew the ball was rolling.
“There’s only one possible problem I must point out.”

            “And what
is that?”

            “Your
company, if it’s successfully bought out, will operate out of the offices of Adland Palace.”

            “But they’re
in L.A!” Markie exclaimed.

            “Exactly
my point,” Harry replied.

            And with
that the meeting was over.

That night Markie lay
in bed dazed, unable to sleep.

      A million
emotions ran through his veins but first and foremost was excitement. To live
in LA, to have his business running up and successfully out of Taj Mahal of
advertising; that was a place he’d never allowed his dreams to wander off to.
Why dream things that crazy when the chances of them happening were a billion
to one? He’d be better off buying a lottery ticket every week for the rest of
his life.