The Numbers Game (13 page)

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Authors: Frances Vidakovic

BOOK: The Numbers Game
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What Tabitha did not
realize when Serena picked up the phone was that this was not her first time
she had called Jasper’s mom Natalie.

            That’s
right, contrary to all relationship protocol Serena and Natalie were actually
ex-friends.  It sufficed that Natalie was not like other fifty year old women,
what with her Lauren Hutton beauty and Cher antics. For instance, Jasper’s mom
still enjoyed good pot and sexy flip skirts. She knew how to dance, chat, and
dress without embarrassing herself. Put Natalie in the same room as Serena’s
(or anyone else’s mom for that matter) and one would see the difference between
night and day, black and white, cool and daggy...

            Needless
to say Natalie was the picture-perfect single mom with an ever-devoted son. And
with a mom who liked Top 40 tunes, it made sense that Jasper confided in her
about things such as life, school and his eventual bed romp with Serena.

            “What did
I do wrong?” Serena had wailed down the phone line two nights after the
ignoring from Jasper had started. It was late, very late and wine, along with
some false bravado, was to blame for the call.

            “Look,”
Natalie had said, obviously frustrated. She had come to protect her son’s
domain, to pose as a barrier to her lone offspring. Maybe this wasn’t the first
time a hysterical girl had harassed Jasper at three a.m. “He’s a boy, you’re a
girl and you screwed. Now it’s time to move on.”

            “But I
can’t!” was Serena’s response. “I can’t live without him in my life.” It was
sad how low one could stoop before they lost all dignity, how many cringing
moments were required to gain some self-respect.

            Natalie
had obviously seen it all before. She invited Serena to a local coffeehouse to
shed some light on the finer points in life, being the darling that she was. 

            “Honey,”
she had said,” you may not know it now but in a few year’s time this pain will
be but a flicker in your past. You will get over it; you will find the one.
Look at this as an experience that will make you later appreciate your soul
mate all the more.”

            This of
course implied Jasper wasn’t her soul mate but Serena’s took Natalie’s advice
to heart. She had no choice really, despite the fact it felt like salt being
rubbed into an open wound. Jasper had disappeared; he wasn’t interested.

            “Call me
some time and let me know how you are,” Natalie had said, handing over a
business card to Serena.
Adult World
, it read,
The Best In Sex You
Can Get
.

            “I will,”
Serena had assured her. At that moment, she hadn’t even known how or if she could
get through the day, let alone a hundred more. “At least I hope I will.”

            It was
about time she fulfilled that promise...

 

 

“Hello?”

            The voice
on the other end was husky and expectant. Welcome to the world of an Adult shop
owner.

            “Natalie?”

            “Yes?”
Who
in hell is this
, was surely going to be her next question.

            “I’m not
sure whether you remember me. It’s Serena, Jasper’s old college buddy.”

            For a
second, Serena thought she should elaborate. Mention something along the lines
of ex-sad and desperate soul, the one who had enlarged and then kneeled below a
poster size photo of her son.  But Natalie’s brain waves had already gone into
overdrive; so much so they were almost palpable.

            “Serena,
Serena… Yes of course I remember you!” Natalie chuckled softly. “I thought
you’d be lying dead and buried by the bottom of the ocean by now.”

            Serena
winced from shame and not the fact the phone cable was coiled so tightly around
her fingers they were going blue.

            “I think I
soon figured my energy was better spent brushing my hair than in empty
threats,” Serena divulged. Yep, that was the secret of her ‘getting over him’
success. Just keeping bathing and slapping on the pink lip-gloss and all would
be fine.

            “To what
do I owe the pleasure of this call?”  Natalie asked. Let’s get straight to the
point was always her approach.

            “I was
hoping to get in touch with Jasper if at all possible, to see how he’s going.”

            “Oh,” the
voice paused. “How did you find out?”

            Excuse me?
Find out what? Now Natalie was not the only one confused.

            “Find out
what?” Serena repeated out loud.

            “His
accident in Ibiza - that is why you’re calling right? He’s been back in San
Francisco for two weeks now.”

            “Of
course, that’s why I’m calling.” Serena heaved a sigh of relief; an accident
was the perfect cover. Now was not the time to ask the other million questions
on her mind, when only one mattered.

            “Where can
I find him?”

            “He’s
living on top of C-Lounge, that new nightclub. Do you know where it is?”

            “Yeah I
do,” Serena said, thinking of the trendy new celebrity spot and baulking at the
thought of showing up announced.
Hi, remember me; we slept together and then
you tossed me aside like a used dishrag.

            “Would you
happen to have his number just in case, I might prefer to arrange a time with
him to meet.”

            Natalie
hesitated here; probably remembering Serena’s ex-psychotic stalking via the
phone line.

            “Shall I tell
Jasper to expect a call soon?” Natalie said, after hashing out the elusive
digits. From the way she was acting one would think they were this week’s
winning Lotto numbers.

            “How about
not?” Serena smiled (or was it more like a plea), “I think I’d rather it be a
surprise.”

            It was
going to be either that, a surprise, or the biggest ugliest shock of his life. 

 

Chapter 9

 

 

 

Though he wouldn’t
admit it to anyone, Markie was absolutely petrified about going into work.

            Truly,
about two minutes after stepping out of the shower his body was soaked in sweat
again. And it took even less for his heart to reach a dangerously rapid beating
speed.  

            It was
Lola. The woman must be a devil in disguise. Ever since she eavesdropped on his
conversation with Rick (and Lord knows she did), her claws had been revealed.
Before she was a subtle flirter, now Lola was as full on as can be. With her
come-hither eyes, every move now screamed for sex, every look said ‘take me to bed’.

            He had to sleep
with Lola. For Markie there was no longer any choice about the matter. In the
past, he had the luxury of hiding behind the “I’ve got a girlfriend” hedge.
Me?
You want to sleep with me? Oh I’m sorry, but I’m already taken
. It was the
perfect cover. No one would’ve guessed but now that it was gone, behind the
tough façade, Markie was a baby for the taking.

            Lola knew
though; and now she was going to eat him alive.

            “That’s a
good thing, isn’t it?” Rick asked on the way to work that morning.

            Markie had
volunteered…and then insisted when Rick refused… to pick his partner up because
the wise said safety came in numbers. There was no way Lola would attack him if
he kept himself in the company of others twenty four seven. Markie’s only
problem was today was a slow day. For some reason Lola had seen it fit to give
him a break and clear his schedule.

            “Oh I know
what she’s got in mind for you,” Rick winked. Nudge, nudge, he might as well
have added. “And it sure ain’t bookkeeping.”

            Bastard.
You would think a man could rely on his friends in times of need but as was now
the case they just became flakier.

            “Bets are saying
two to one you and Miss Lola will consummate your relationship within the next
twenty four hours.”

            “You’ve put
bloody tabs on this?  What happened to you promising to keep it to yourself?”

            “Sorry
mate, I’m a businessman first then companion.”

            One would
think Rick was joking about this but it came out with a straight face.

            “Is there
anyone in the office you haven’t blabbed this to?”  Markie had to ask. Knowing
Rick he had probably also included it in the company newsletter.

            “Hang on,”
Rick interrupted. He sounded offended. “I didn’t blab to anyone. The staff just
decided to fill me in on their game; I wasn’t supposed to even tell you.”

            “Let me
guess; I’m supposed to thank you for betraying their confidence.”

            Rick
smiled. “Look, how about you just delay your rendezvous until Sunday night and
we’ll call it flush. I’ll even split with you the profits.”

            Oh wow! As
one could imagine, Markie was not exactly floored by the offer.  The staff
wanted him to sleep with Lola, his partner wanted him to sleep with Lola and
Lola wanted exactly the same, so what then was his problem? He should just do
it. Sleep with his assistant and get on with notching the numbers on his belt.
Markie could tell if he didn’t get back to the playing field soon, his
frustration and pent-up tension would eventually affect his entire game. Week
three and he was already stuck like a broken record on a song he couldn’t
forget.

            “
I
wanna, I wanna, I wanna touch your body.”

            Samantha
Fox, the ex-Penthouse Pet. Yep Lola was reminding Markie more and more of the
long-gone glam eighties star by the minute.  Not that the fluffy haired Miss Fox
wasn’t past her due date now but back in her heyday there wasn’t a man alive who
wouldn’t have taken her to bed. Markie included.

 

 

Of all the places he
could’ve chosen to live, Serena still couldn’t believe Jasper had chosen the
C-Lounge. C-Lounge, the trendy bar cum nightclub and celebrity haunt, went
against everything her ex-lover stood for.

            It was
loud as opposed to serene, of slip shoddy design rather than feng-shuied. As
she parked her car outside the premises, Serena wondered how Jasper could ever
concentrate on his work here. Even in the middle of the day, traffic rampaged
up and down the road; noise limits were constantly being challenged. This was
no place to make art. Love maybe but not art.

            Rap, rap,
rap, Serena’s knuckles felt like they are grating against the wooden door. Or
maybe it was because they were still trembling. To reach the door she had had
to climb a wobbly set of metal steps, which wouldn’t have been so bad if Serena
didn’t suffer from severe vertigo.

            “I should
make a complaint to the council,” Serena muttered, “Steps should have more than
just air underneath.”

           
That’s
right
, Tabitha would probably say
, blame it all on the steps

It’s
the steps fault your nerves are in a mess. Bull tiddly winks! Look at it as a
challenge. You’re just visiting an old friend for old time’s sake. No need to
mention anything about the game immediately. Don’t scare him off by begging him
to take you to bed... again. Instead gauge his response, consider things like
eye contact and the questions he asks you before you make your move. Timing
here is paramount.

            By the
time Serena ran through this pep talk twice she was feeling more confident but
the door still hadn’t been answered. So she knocked on it again. He had to be
in there, it was Saturday. From the Juliet balcony, Serena could hear the
gentle murmur of a washing machine and high-pitched Jerry Springer guests,
albeit at a low volume. This was a change, the TV. What had happened to Jasper
never giving in to convention, to him separating himself from societal and
media pressure? She wondered in what others ways her ex-lover had changed.

            “Hello?”
The voice behind the door was soft-spoken but undeniably feminine. And not in
the gay way either.

            “Um,”
Serena stuttered. She was not expecting this. She was not expecting a woman. If
only she could run away but peering back at the steep steps, Serena realized it
would take at least fifteen minutes at a steady, balanced pace to make it back
down again.

            “It’s
Serena; I’m a friend of Jaspers.” There she went, explaining herself again.

            “Oh.”   Next
came the sound of a chain sliding then falling against the panel and a door
creaking open.

            “Yes?”

            You would
think the bombshell would’ve at least had the decency to put on some clothes.
But no, there she was wrapped in a plush black towel with her bed-head hair.
Real bed-head hair. Serena had also never seen a black towel before.

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