The Numbers Game (16 page)

“I have
just ten bucks on me,” Serena said, about to have a panic attack. She felt this
way whenever her funds in her wallet ran low, as if she was one step away from
begging on the streets. “Enough to buy me half a cocktail in the hotel
probably.”

            “Ten
bucks!” Champagne squealed. “Why the hell do you carry around so much?”

            “Excuse
me?” Serena said. “I thought we were drinking tonight.”

            “Of course
we are but we don’t actually pay for our own drinks,” Champagne tsk tsked. “That’s
the guy’s job to do.”

            “But what
if he doesn’t offer…” Serena started. In her head she could recollect a lot of
bad experiences. The boy who wasn’t thirsty when she was but who gulped down a
keg when it was her turn to pay. The boy who’d lost his wallet, lost his job,
left his brains at home. That was most likely why Serena ended up falling in
love with Markie: he wasn’t a scrooge. To the contrary, he was generous, he
didn’t watch every cent like a hawk and he let Serena have a sister copy of his
credit card.

            “He will,
trust me,” Champagne replied. “Look, give me your purse and you won’t have any
problem.”

            “No way,”
Serena shrieked pinning the purse against her chest. “You’d have better luck
getting me to shave off my hair.”

            “Fine, be
a baby then. Just remember the rules: when a man offers you a drink, say yes. Order
the most expensive thing on the menu to make it obvious that you’re worth it.
Smile a lot, listen intently and then get the hell out when you feel you’ve
reaped all you can.”

            “Been
reading The Rules have you?”

            “Screw The
Rules,” Champagne retorted. “This isn’t about getting a man to marry you; it’s
about getting him to spend his dough. And lots of it too.”

            “Because
our aim is…?” Serena liked to know what the purpose was, what was at stake
here.

            “Our aim
is to have fun.”

            “Preferably
at the boys’ expense,” added Violet.

            Serena
could tell she was dealing with professionals here.

            “Listen,
how about I just tag along and watch how you experts work.” If she was lucky it
wouldn’t be anything like the blind leading the blind.

            “Yes, watch
us and learn,” Champagne smiled, tapping the glass to signal the driver to
stop. “Here we are, Hotel Lux. Home of men who should’ve known better, who
should’ve seen us coming.”

            As they
exited the limo, all three pairs of feet found themselves sinking into thick
red carpet. It made Serena feel like a princess; all that was missing was the
paparazzi and a golden prince waiting at the end.

            “Looks
busier than usual tonight,” noted Violet, who nodded towards the glass-encased
notice board. Serena ran her eyes down the list: Amway conference, Venom
launch, Engagement of Jones and Smyth, private function.

            “Which one
should we gatecrash later on?” Champagne asked.          “After we’ve drunk the
cocktail bar dry that is?”

            “That
would have to be the Venom launch,” a male voice boomed from behind. The girls,
all dressed in black little numbers, spun around, coming face to face with a
cheeky-looking security guard.

            “But don’t
say I told you so,” he smiled, tapping the baton against his hand. “Free vodka
and beautiful girls are not usually a good mix.

            The
nameless man returned the stick back to its rightful home, adjusted his belt
and moseyed away, not a minute too soon.

            “How dare
the prick eavesdrop on our conversation,” huffed Champagne.   

            Serena
could tell from the way her eyebrows arched that the girl was plotting an evil,
unfair revenge.

            “Hang on,
give the guy a break. A visit to a launch with free alcohol isn’t such a bad
idea.”

            “Yes but
first things first, the cocktail bar.”

            Because
that was their plan and God forbid they revise it.

            “Of course
Champagne,” said Serena, warding off the imminent temper tantrum. “Let’s do
it by the book and go to the cocktail bar first.” Let’s see exactly where this
all takes us, no money and all.

Needless to say,
Markie and Rick were having a fabulous time at the Venom Launch.    

It wasn’t
often they got to scoff their faces with free mini food, drink to their hearts
content and enjoy anonymity. Being an agency head by design usually meant one
featured as a centerpiece at events and had to fend vultures off with a stick.
At all times one had to be civil and on the defense because otherwise they’d
pick you apart until your eyeballs popped out. This party was a change; Markie
felt like a celebrity hopping onto the New York subway completely unnoticed, sans
the wig and sunglasses.

            “Could it
be our attire?” Rick asked, looking down at his frumpy shirt.

            “It’s
either that or the thongs,” Markie snickered. He still couldn’t get over how
Rick wore female flip-flops. It was men like this that gave Ad Land a bad name.

            “I told
you, they’re comfortable,” Rick replied, giving Markie the same old lame
excuse. Whatever: different strokes for different folks…

            “It’s been
a while since we went to a party like this…”

            “That
wasn’t peppered with dogs, you mean,” smirked Rick.

            “Man
seriously I can’t believe you are still in one piece.” Markie shook his head.

            ‘What?
Would you prefer that I said the term “unattractive women”? Welcome to Male-Speak.
Besides some of these women really do have asses big enough to eat dinner off. However
right over…well there is the perfect example of everything gone right.”

            Markie
glanced over to where the finger was pointing (after discreetly knocking it
down) and wrinkled his nose. All he could see was a human sized lemon.

            “Sorry
don’t see it,” he replied, after he had covered the distance and missed seeing
any beauties.

            “Are you
blind, man?” Rick frowned, the alcohol making his expression more exaggerated
than ever.

            That was
when it hit Markie; Rick
was
speaking about the lemon. For the first
time Markie understood the expression: beauty is in the eye of the beholder. In
the celebrity world beautiful women essentially had a common thread running
through them all: shiny locks, golden skin, beautiful smile, slim curvy body. If
one had all four, then they hit bingo.

            But this
yellow woman held none of the above features. Funny how someone could consider Heidi
Klum to be too plain and still find a lemon to be enticing.

            “So are
you going to make a move?” Markie asked, knowing better than to criticize a
friend’s choice.

            “Should
I?”

            “Yes
definitely.” Markie couldn’t remember the last time his best friend had picked
up. There was always one excuse or the other; but what it came down to was that
either his standards were too high or he really did have a secret infatuation
with Tabitha (which effectively cancelled each other out).

            As for
Markie, he liked to think he had high standards, without his beer goggles on.
He’d done well with Serena: having her on his arm always made him feel proud. When
she wasn’t near, Markie didn’t think twice about whipping her photo out, unlike
most guys who feigned lost wallets or “oh she’s a tad unphotogenic” excuses.
Even in comparison to the cream of the crop Serena was still be hard to beat,
Markie realized.

            For some
reason Markie was using her as a benchmark more and more lately, even
visualizing her in places she couldn’t be (like right now passing by the
entrance). He categorized women as fat or thin, tall or small, according to his
ex’s little frame. Markie surveyed the room once again, this time with a less
critical eye. He needed to find someone tonight, he told himself. He needed to
or he’d explode from the frustration and it wouldn’t be a pretty sight.

            He settled
on a fresh young thing standing by the punch. A brunette, with a mash of curls
sitting on her shoulders, looked like she was up for some play. He guessed this
from her red boots and shiny lips: undoubtedly a mating call.

            “Hey,” he
said, sliding up beside her at the table. “Let me guess, your feet are killing
you and you want to go home.”

             The
brunette looked up at him, all dewy faced and wide-eyed. She was trying to be
cautious but couldn’t help breaking into a smile.

            “How did
you guess?” she replied.

            Markie
couldn’t tell her he had seen the look a million times on Serena, or that her
five-inch heels were a dead giveaway.

            “Sisters,”
he shrugged. Men who had sisters were allowed to be presumptuous.

            “So how
are you connected to the agency?” she asked Markie.

            “I’m not,”
he replied, “It’s through per coincidence that I’m here.”

            The
brunette liked that line. Women always did. Mention fate or kismet and they’d
soon be wondering what their part was in this cosmic providence.

            “Well,”
she smiled, licking her lips. “Lucky for you I’m a great believer in destiny.
So if you’re up for it, why don’t we go back to your place and make history.”

            Markie
dropped his mouth. It was the Catholic schoolboy in him that made him waver.
Hell he didn’t even know this girl’s name. For all he knew she could be a
swindling psycho, maybe even a murderer.

            On the
other hand, she could be good in bed. Markie tried to weigh his options. Good
in bed versus criminal risk. He looked at her again; she was tiny and couldn’t
have been more than twenty-two.  What did he have to lose?

“Is that who I think
it is?” Champagne shrieked, pulling the straw out of her mouth.

            She nodded
her head towards the stairs, which lead up to the light of Hotel Lux’s
glittering foyer. There were people passing to and fro, all dressed in
distinguished suits or frocks, depending on sex, and Serena had a hard time
placing whom she meant. A celebrity? Word had it Madonna was spied lunching
here with Gwyneth a few weeks back.

            No,
Champagne wasn’t the in-awe-over-celebrity kind, what with all the dickheads on
the set. It was probably a male supermodel. Even though she wasn’t that picky
when it came to men, Champagne did have a healthy appreciation for the perfect
form. Or maybe her appreciation came in spite of it. Either way, Serena craned
her neck to see if someone like the ex Calvin Klein model Marky Mark was still
in sight. It looked like he wasn’t. She and Violet went back to sucking
straight brandy and coke - hold the coke - through their straws.

            “Oh my gosh,
has Markie by any chance shaved all of his hair off?” Champagne asked her.  

            Serena
rolled her eyes and went back to playing with the straw. Who’d have thought so
much sophistication and sexual tension could come from something so skinny with
a hole in it? Maybe without the straws half the men in the bar wouldn’t have
shouted them their drinks.

            “Earth to Serena,
didn’t you hear what I just asked you?”

            “Yes,”
Serena sighed, “I thought you were kidding me. You know, I don’t read the
gossip columns religiously. Last I heard Mark was acting on some big movies but
I really don’t have any idea.”

            “Acting?” Champagne giggled. “Since when did Markie get into
acting?”

Now Serena
was the one confused.

            “We are
talking about Mark Wahlberg right? Ex-sexiest man alive?” she asked.

            “Honestly
you are thick,” Champagne hollered. “I’m speaking about your boyfriend, your
ex-boyfriend. I think I just saw him here, with another girl.”

            “What?”

            Before she
could say more, Serena was coughing, hysterically choking on her drink, and a
bit of liquid even came spluttering out of her nose. Champagne had to be
hallucinating. There was no way that Markie would come to a place like this on
a Friday night. No way. Unless he had to for work, like if some international
female business client insisted they meet here. Because it was crazy to imagine
he had thrown caution to the wind and in fact brought a date to the Lux. Then
again the restaurant at this hotel was rated six stars and Markie was always
talking about how he wanted to try out a six star place.
I wonder what is
the difference between five and six stars is
, he used to say.
Really, if
people are finding the five-point scale too limiting, why not make it a rating
out of ten?