The Numbers Game (35 page)

            Yes that
sounded very sophisticated and laidback. Not rehearsed at all. As long as Rick
didn’t delve into it by asking too many questions like: why don’t you call her
yourself, everything would be okay. Tabitha took a deep abdominal breath and
reached for the phone. In two minutes this would all be over, she affirmed to
herself, in two minutes all this will be over.

            “Hello,
Guerrilla Zoo. Mark speaking.”

Oh crap,
crap, crap. Tabitha had definitely not prepared herself for this part; for
Markie picking up his partner’s office phone.

            “Ah…” Tabitha
stood frozen with her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.

            Torn
between slamming down the phone (a very appealing idea) and saying something,
anything (in case their phone had caller ID), she behaved like a deaf and dumb
mute who knew only how to say Arrrrrr.

            “Excuse me,
can I help you?” Markie asked again.

            “Yas,
yas”, Tabitha replied in a pompous part-British, part-South African, part-alien
voice once she got herself together. “I vood like to speak vit Rick if hiz
available.” Yes and a touch of French thrown in for good measure.

            “Who may I
ask is calling?” asked Markie, sounding half-serious and half-amused.

            “Oh vis is
a personal col.”

            Oh blimey.
Tabitha had a mini panic attack as the sound of murmurs and footsteps filtered
down the phone line.
Hang up, you have to hang up now
blasted through
her head briefly;
after that bloody scene they’ll think you are a lost
screw.
But before she could hang up Rick’s voice, all masculine and
alluring shrilled into her ear and had her hooked.
I’ll just tell him I was
exacting the new privacy policy because I didn’t want Markie to know it was me.
He’ll understand, he’s a nice guy and nice guys aren’t judgmental of girls who
put on stupid phony voices when they call.

            “Hello
Rick speaking.”

            “Hi Rick,”
Tabitha spoke up shyly. “It’s me Tabitha, Serena’s friend. I’d prefer though
that you don’t tell Markie it’s me on the phone.

            Back at
Guerrilla Zoo, Rick was already motioning to Markie to piss off out of the room
and shut the door behind him. Markie obliged, assuming it was just another one
of Rick’s illiterate foreign escapades.

            “What can
I do for you? I mean, how are you and everything?” Rick’s shift from his
professional to off-duty persona took only about a second

            “I’m fine,
thank you,” replied Tabitha, relaxing immediately. Then she felt a new surge of
panic. What if he didn’t really remember her? What if he was just acting nice
while flicking through a million mental images of all Serena’s friends? After
all, it wasn’t like she and Rick had ever had a proper conversation before.

            “You do
know who I am, don’t you?” Tabitha replied tentatively.

            “Of course
I do!” Rick bellowed. Then he laughed and it was all a bit over the top like on
The Comedy Channel.

            Oh no, Tabitha
cringed. He doesn’t know who I am at all! But then Rick went on to say “Are you
still copywriting at the real estate agency?” and it shot down that fret. 

            “I am, but
that isn’t what I called you about. Rather it’s about Serena.”

            “Serena,”
Rick was probably shaking his head at the way that came out. “Are you sure
you’re speaking to the right person then?”

            “Well not
totally but I don’t have any other choice.” Tabitha paused and wondered how she
should phrase this. How did it go again? Something like: please let Serena know
it is absolutely paramount that she calls me immediately. No that was so
secretarial.

            “Listen
you sound a bit stressed,” Rick started, “and so am I about this whole Markie
and Serena taking a break thing. So why don’t we meet after work or something;
that way we can talk about it more privately and you can share with me
whatever’s on your mind?”

            “Like a
date?” Tabitha let her surprise slip before she could tame it. But it couldn’t
be helped; Rick actually wanted to meet with her! And not somewhere boring like
at his work or Markie’s but after-hours, somewhere discreet and private.

            According
to women’s intuit, private could only mean one thing: he likes me; oh my God
Rick likes me!

            “I…um...”
Now the cat had caught Rick’s tongue. “If you like we can treat it like a date,
have dinner or something. Only if you like, that is.” 

            “Oh I
would like,” Tabitha smiled, now that she had gotten a grip of the confidence
oozing out of her pores. “Tomorrow at eight o’clock would be totally grand. I
mean great.”

            “I’ll pick
you up from your house? That old pinky-colored terrace on Solstice Drive,
right?”

            “How did
you…”? Tabitha’s voice faded away. Of course he knew that, all men probably
informed their best friend where their girlfriend’s best friend lives, right?
That wasn’t abnormal was it?

            “Eight
o’clock will be fine,” she managed with as such calm and poise humanly
possible. Then she put down the phone and jumped around the room with joy,
fists punching high into the sky.

            It had
been a long, long time since Tabitha last did her victory dance.

See everything does
happen for a reason, Tabitha thought as she prepared for the Big Date. Serena’s
humiliation, Serena’s wrath towards her didn’t go to waste because tonight, any
minute now, she would be going out with Rick. Finally….

            Tabitha
scolded herself for not thinking up something this ingenious earlier. Five
years now she had spent fantasizing about kissing those sexy lips of Ricks and
where did all that brooding get her? Nowhere really… because only today was she
about to take the first step.

             Obviously
Tabitha was partly to blame for that slow-poke hold-up – seeing as for two
years she kept her feelings to herself and the next three she stealthily
avoided the topic. And for what reason?
Why was I a nervous knuckle brain?
Tabitha asked herself these easy questions while applying last minute splashes
of extra blush and lipstick. It wasn’t like there was anything to be scared of…
they were going out for a friendly chat, nothing serious. It’s not like they
had to spend the rest of their lives together, and get married, have babies,
etcetera.

            Tabitha
suddenly felt her spine stiffen in a frightening way. She knew this sensation
well and tried to keep calm until she made it to a soft spot into which she
could recline. Backing slowly out of the bathroom, Tabitha took tiny steps
towards her bedroom, with one hand on her back and the other on her heart. She
really should go to a doctor about this, Tabitha reasoned as her head kept
spinning, what if these were symptoms of a heart attack or worse yet a brain
tumor?

            On second
thoughts maybe a doctor wasn’t such a good idea. Last weekend Tabitha had seen
a TV special on brain tumor patients who didn’t sadly make it and noted that
all the guests hadn’t even suspected they had the disease until that auspicious
stop at the medical centre.  Then within months of diagnosis the once healthy
looking beings had withered away to bone.
What I don’t know can’t hurt me
,
Tabitha decided. Plus it’s not like these attacks happen all the time, only
when she thought about relationships or words like long-term and commitment
came up.

            There it
went again, a sharp stab of pain shot across Tabitha’s cancer-free brain but
luckily she was by the bed when it happened. She really did have to stop
thinking these horrible thoughts about love pledges and marriage.  Focus on the
smaller chunks, living day by day instead and of course the prospect of
divorce.

            The
doorbell rang just as Tabitha was thinking how grand it would be to be a man in
those Muslim countries where a click a finger meant their relationship was
officially dissolved. She looked out her bedroom window to see Rick standing on
the platform, holding a bunch of pretty sunflowers and huffing into his hand
then smelling it. Oh that would have to be the breath check. Next thing you
know he’d be rubbing a forefinger across his teeth and clearing the yukky bits
from his eyes.

            “Coming,” she called, quickly checking
her own breath/teeth/eyes/

nose/breasts/bum in the hallway mirror before making
her way down.

            “This is
it, be cool, you’re Angelina Jolie.”

            She opened
up the door and let the pure thrill of the moment rush through her body.
I
don’t need to act excited, I am excited.
Excited by the way Rick looks
oh so pleased to see me.
Excited also by the little beads of sweat which
had formed on his forehead, luckily hers were tucked beneath her blow-dried
fringe.

            “Are you
ready?” he asked, in a kind way, not impatient.

            “I am,”
Tabitha nodded and without thinking, pulled the door shut behind her and
started walking towards his car. But Rick wasn’t moving; he was still standing
by the door wearing a bemused expression. Oh damn! Oh crap! What a rude idiot
she was!  She was supposed to invite him in or something; offer him a beer or a
bowl of nuts she guessed.

            “Sorry the
wind blew the door shut by accident. Then I got blown away a bit too. Shall we
go back inside for refreshments?”

            Tabitha
screwed her face into a tiny ball as she threw out the proposition and motioned
to the door. Somehow she thought Angelina Jolie would have done it a tad more
elegantly.
Yes but you’re not Angelina, are you honey?

            Thanks a
lot mom.

            “No, no,”
Rick cried, stepping away from the house.  “We probably should get going. I was
just admiring your…dress.” Tabitha looked down at her black pantsuit confused.
“I mean not your dress, your shoes.”

            Tabitha’s
eyes shifted to her cherry-colored boots; She guessed they were a bit
interesting but didn’t blokes who like shoes usually like the other team… Tabitha
glimpsed up to meet Rick’s embarrassed gaze and he started stuttering.

            “To be
honest it’s not only your shoes I was admiring but everything; everything about
you.”

            Tabitha
felt her cheeks redden rapidly. Normally she wasn’t that good at accepting
compliments. As a rule she’d take them and then totally smack it down, until
her esteem was down there with the roaches and maggots. But today she
restrained her tongue…bit it between her two front teeth until the urge passed
by. Only once it was safely out of harm’s reach did Tabitha open her mouth to
let out her well-trained etiquette-proper response.

            “Thank
you, thank you very much.”

            Then she
linked her arm with Rick’s and off they went to dinner.

It turned out Rick and
Tabitha had more in common than they both realized.

            For
starters, neither of them were really fans of fancy exotic cuisine but happy to
pretend they were. Both munched on hideous legs of crab dipped into putrid
white sauce without so much as a grimace and happily talked about politics and
the sad destruction of our wild forests without so much as a yawn. It was tough
but like all good actors, they pulled themselves through.

            In other
words, the date was a disaster.

            Tabitha
sat across from Rick, trying to read what was behind the pleasantry in his
eyes. He had taken her to a posh restaurant but it was a bit too posh for her
liking; almost wanky. The waiters were the type who had black tie jackets with
long tails to their knees, as if composers of an orchestra and the women wore
glitter and the chunkiest stones Tabitha had ever seen outside a jewelry store.
She knew, just knew that the tip expected would be worth more than most
dinner-for-two bills. 

            Bad
thoughts starting entering Tabitha’s mind almost immediately. Firstly they were
of the ‘low-self-esteem’ type. Like
honestly I don’t belong in a place this
extravagant, everyone here is better, richer, more beautiful and thus superior
than me.
Then it quickly proceeded to the ‘high-esteem’ sort.
I don’t
give a hoot if I’m humdrum because at least I have more personality, style,
sass and balls than all these people combined. Speaking of which, what did this
place say about Rick and the sort of person he was? Huh?

            Tabitha
treaded her next steps with much caution. She had to; she had liked Rick for
too long to screw it up with stupid rationalizations. As Rick talked about
escalating property prices, Tabitha concentrated on ignoring the Devil on her right
shoulder and focusing instead on the Angel on the left. Right now Angel was
saying:

            “Look
isn’t he a nice and intelligent man. Rick obviously has money so you won’t have
to hide any new purchases in the back of your closet, like your mother did. He
doesn’t talk with his mouth full, nor does he look in need of a wash or feed.
And the best thing is you KNOW he doesn’t have a wife and kids stashed away.
Not only is he legitimately single but you have Markie and Serena as backup
spies for those more dubious incidences.