The Numbers Game (38 page)

            No, Markie
had been happy to restrict his goals to within San Francisco, to that of being
number one in this town- anything else was just an extra cherry on top. In
terms of work, he’d always kept things in perspective. Being successful in
business was great but he had no illusions that this was the be all and end all
of everything. After all, there was way more to life than money. When the time
came that Serena wanted kids, Markie would happily kick off his shiny work shoes
and spend his weekends rough and tumbling down at the park instead of at the
office.

            Now he had
to ask himself though: had he settled for too little? While other people were
venturing off to new cities on other continents or at least in other states,
Markie found himself still living in San Francisco, ten minutes from his
childhood home. It wasn’t that he was terribly attached to Frisco; his regard
for it stemmed mainly from the fact it was the only place Markie had ever
known.  And in comparison to other foreign gems: Saudi Arabia, India, China,
and Japan, Frisco always seemed warm and buzzing and very appealing.

            Taking off
to Europe at twenty three had really opened his eyes however. So many people
living so far away from home! Before then, Markie had had no idea. He didn’t
know that people lived that kind of lifestyle - flitting from one country to
another with only a backpack and self-reliance – he didn’t even know they
existed.  With every hobo that passed, Markie had felt like playing twenty
questions: but what about stability? What about your career and investments?
What in the world do your parents say?

            Markie had
held one such interview, with a hippy bisexual pair and it was a disaster from
the start.

            “We don’t
care”, was their retort to Question one. “We don’t care” was their retort to
Question two, and just when Markie was expecting a ditto for number three he
saw their faces grow ever wild and frenzied.

            “Our
parents?” they had ranted and raved. “Don’t you understand anything? It doesn’t
matter what other people think or say or expect from you, especially your
parents. You’ve got to live your own life and not anyone else’s because
everyone dies their own death. If you let yourself get influenced by others instead
of listening to your own heart, you will lose in life. You will be a loser in
the end with a bag full of regrets.”

            It was a
bagful of confusion Markie took away from that trip. How do you listen to your
heart when it’s saying a million different things? On the flight back to San
Francisco, Markie wished he could have asked those girls this.

             To teach
canoeing in The Greek Islands or see his niece Lily take her first step? To
spend a summer picking grapes in Bordeaux, France, or take an internship at
Saatchi and Saatchi’s? How does one decide between such things?

            Like all
Americans, he had casually romanced the idea of living in Los Angeles. Not to
be an actor and break into the movies; Markie knew full well he couldn’t act
for crap. But he wouldn’t have minded incorporating that which he knew best –
advertising – with his love for film. Promoter of blockbusters, wouldn’t that have
looked impressive on his business card? The thought of it right now sent a
shiver down Markie’s spine, even though he knew LA was more “seedy concrete
jungle” than Malibu, even though he knew there were more hookers than eligible
nice ladies, he still couldn’t shake the utter thrill that went along with
Harry B. Sangster’s offer.

            “I have a
chance to live in LA,” Markie said out loud to himself.

            But what
good was that chance unless he took it? There were so many things he had to
consider first: his house, his parents, his staff and let’s not forget about
Serena.

            Harry had
said a decision needed to be made soon.

            “Not that
we’re putting pressure on you but Adland need to secure a new piece of business
before the end of the month. If you can’t commit by then, well… whether we like
it or not, we have to go elsewhere,” Harry frowned for a moment. “My preference
of course is that we avoid that option altogether.”

“I
understand.”

            Markie
honestly did. He knew Harry wasn’t poking him in the back with a spike for fun.
Big bureaucracies put time and money before people, that was a fact, and if
Markie didn’t want to jump for the offer then some other bastard would.

            “I’ll let
you know before the end of the month, then,” Markie had responded charily.

            What Harry
didn’t know was the end of the month also coincided with Serena’s return.
Markie had to make a decision before then, but he couldn’t without Serena,
which meant only one thing…

“I’ll have
to contact her.”

            But only
if he decided to take up the offer, he added later, quite aware he wasn’t
supposed to go anywhere near his girlfriend. And chances were he would want to,
right? Move to LA, where they could have a nice fresh start, maybe he could even
negotiate a house in Beverly Hills into his contract. Harry said if they went
ahead with it, Guerrilla Zoo had six weeks from end of month to relocate, both
Markie and any staff who chose to go along on the adventure. Any no-goers would
have to be replaced, however irreplaceable they appeared to be.

            Yet the
opportunity was nonetheless open to them all, not just to Markie. Serena, Rick, Berry – they all had a chance to make some dreams come true. But how many of them
would take it, how many of them would go?

            When the
opportunity of a lifetime came knocking, would they open the door or keep it
closed?

A simple discrepancy in
the number of sexual partners was the reason this whole break up began.

            Serena
dredged this info up one morning whilst asking herself how in the world she got
herself in this awful mess, this loving two men situation and the truth almost
knocked her over.
Oh my gosh was that really what it was all about
, she
asked herself,
Markie feeling intimidated by my stupid position in the
double digits and needing to set things straight?
“Be even” were the exact
words he used. Why could he not see it was a load of risky bullcrap, Serena
cringed, to treat their relationship like betting chips at a casino when it was
really their hearts they were putting on the line?

            Then she
remembered. They thought they were infallible. They laughed that last day and waved
each other goodbye as if they were going away on a school camp. If for a second
Markie or she suspected it would cause a permanent rift in their relationship
Serena was certain they wouldn’t have done it. Or was she guessing wrong? It
was after all Markie who had wanted the break, who felt restricted. She had
merely provided him with an option, which meant they could both be happy,
satisfy their whims and once done continue from where they had left off.

            But where
had they left it off? Serena didn’t know anymore. It seemed she had picked up
the same tapestry with Jasper and carried on sewing from there.  No new awkward
beginning period, no getting shocked by his quirks and scary habits with
Jasper. It was as though Serena knew him as well as she knew Markie. Time-wise,
they had been friends throughout college; they had a history together that
regressed more than a month. Maybe that’s why, after four weeks of bed sharing,
she and Jasper still hadn’t had the ‘talk’. About ex-sex partners and old loves
and whether they thought they’d make it to the next step. For some reason there
wasn’t that need and as Serena didn’t chase it neither did Jasper.

            Sex
between them was still different and great. The first time Jasper entered
Serena her body had reacted like a fourteen-year old having her first glass of
wine; it made her feel dizzy and light-headed from the giddiness. Markie was
good but Jasper was better. Serena felt guilty saying that but it was true.
When Jasper lifted and carried her to bed, she knew she could expect more than
twenty minutes of fresh, energetic, original sex. She knew that Jasper wouldn’t
run away as soon as it was over to flick on the TV. Often it would happen
outside and often as a surprise, a gift to be unwrapped more than once a day.

            It
reminded Serena a lot of her and Markie in the early years (or make that the
first year) when they still couldn’t get enough of each other. In retrospect
maybe it was out of fear that the other might disappear that kept them
desperately romantic. That and probably a touch of insecurity - whenever an
attractive member of the opposite sex and thus potential threat approached it
kept them on their toes. Their sex and kissing back then was always urgent,
passionate and craved. But somewhere along the way five times a day became five
times a week and then three; the nature of the act and passion declining just
as steadily with the years. Draw a graph and it would look like a perfect
slippery slide.

            Serena
couldn’t imagine the same decline ever happening to her and Jasper.

            “That’s
what they all say,” said the older, wiser Champagne later at work. “It’ll never
happen to me, it’ll never happen to me but come marriage along with a few brats
and soon everyone’s humming the same tune.”

            “But
Markie and I don’t have kids and we definitely aren’t married, we weren’t even
engaged.”

            “Oh that’s
right,” Champagne tapped the comb against her nose, “it’s either marriage, kids
or the three years, whichever comes first.”

            “Which
makes us all doomed,” Violet nicely pointed out.

            Thank you
very much for that.

            Serena was
admittedly less than impressed. She found it hard to believe it was impossible
to remain passionate forever. With Jasper that is - her and Markie were
probably already a lost cause. Because once you’ve lost the magic sexy feeling,
it was too late – the trick was to hold onto it tight, to never let it go in
the first place. That had to be the secret, it had to be and Serena was
determined to find living proof of it, somewhere, anywhere, of a lust that
lasts forever.

Finding two sixty-
year-olds who still pashed and bonked like mad was harder than Serena expected.

            No, who was
she kidding? Two thirty year olds were hard to find. It seemed that Champagne
was unfortunately right – the moment three years, marriage or kids got in the
way the heart changed its beat from boom-boom to frigging-get-off-my-back. The
best of couples, the ones who hadn’t yet got divorced, boasted about how
friendship was the key, the so-called ‘glue which held them together.’

            “We’re
just the best of friends,” Marnie who was married to Barnie said.

            Yep there
was no doubt about it. Not only had they abbreviated their names from Marmalade
and Barney to sound similar they were also wearing matching striped t-shirts
and tennis shoes.

            “But what
about the sex?”  Serena asked. So what if they got on well together and never
fought. That wasn’t a mean feat – Serena got on with everyone and she certainly
didn’t consider it grounds for marriage.

            “What
about it?” They said eyeing each other tenaciously.

            “Is it
still good? Still exciting and spontaneous?

            “Of course
it is,” they said a bit defensively. Then Marnie added, “Maybe we don’t do it
as often as before but I find the end result to still be the same. If anything
it’s gentler, more tender and loving.”

            When
Barnie raised his eyebrows Serena was inclined to believe this was not his
preferred option. Ah ha! She knew it. Even before Marnie pulled Serena into
kitchen to say how much she missed the long ago weekly love letters, the
massages, Serena could see that this was a passion-less house. Sure, it was
warm, strong and basking in love but that and passion was not the same thing.

            This
revelation was a problem for Serena. She called another dozen or two couples
but as suspected, if the romantic couple from hell Marnie and Barnie weren’t
rolling around in zeal then the others weren’t either. When asked for an
explanation as to how they lost the spark, the women proffered the following
clues:

            “We just
too used to each other…”

            “No need
to impress anymore…”

            “Can be
more honest… if I’m not in the mood now, then I say I’m not in the mood.”

            “My libido
is not as high as before, contrary to what they say about women peaking later…”

            “But it’s
not that bad, you know…”

            And so on
and so on and so on. All of them sounded like pathetic excuses and the decline
didn’t correlate at all with their feelings for their spouse. If anything they
loved their partners more.