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Authors: Frances Vidakovic

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BOOK: The Numbers Game
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            “I have to
go up,” Serena said, and before Violet or Champagne could stop her, she was
clambering up the stairs blindly, two at a time. It was amazing how she didn’t
collapse and roll all the way back down with the amount of alcohol she had in
her system.

            When she
got to the top, the foyer was bustling with even more people than before. At
least a hundred people were moving in all directions: to the lifts which
elevated them up to their thousand-dollar a night rooms, to the ballrooms one,
two, or three, the restaurant or reception desk, or lastly, the rotating glass
doors which took them full circle, back down the red carpet from where they
came.

            “What are
you doing?” Violet said from behind, huffing and puffing from the climb.  
Violet looked at Serena as if she was a mad woman, who needed to be returned to
her cell.

            “You
shouldn’t listen to Champagne,” she said, in the most rational voice she could
conjure. “That girl has drunk more than her fair share of brandy tonight and
you know straws apparently make it more potent. That’s what they say: want to
get drunk then drink from a straw.”

            Okay so
that explained why Serena felt so terrible. Her head felt as if it was about to
explode. For some reason, she kept looking about anyway, hoping for that
precious glimpse of Markie and his date. Maybe he was here, and when she saw
him everything would be all right. He would lose the girl and take her home, to
her real home and not Tabitha’s stinky terrace and tuck her into her old bed.
Oh Christ, Tabitha! Serena hadn’t even told her where she was going and in
addition to her empty wallet, her cell had also just gone flat.

            “So you
think it wasn’t him?” Serena asked Violet. Except that was like asking her the
million-dollar question on
Who Wants To Be A Millionaire
? One couldn’t
have much faith that she was going to get it right.

            “It
might’ve been,” she said surprisingly, “but then again Champagne is as blind as
a bat without her contacts and who knows if she even has them in? Do you really
care though? A boy is supposed to come chasing after you, not the other way
around. Don’t you know anything?”

            Serena
stood there frozen in place, waiting to see what her body or mouth would do
next. Oh gosh, she couldn’t believe it! In ordinary circumstances, even when drunk,
she would have ignored Violet’s advice seeing as she had almost a decade of relationship
experience over her friend.

            But
instead Serena murmured, “You’re right. What does it matter if he was here?
What does it matter in the grand scheme of things?”

            In four
weeks time, they would be trading houses and she could ask him about it then.

 

 

 

Chapter
11

 

 

 

Oh no she couldn’t
believe it, she really couldn’t. Lo and behold Markie had actually taken a girl
home for the night!

            Tabitha
stood there alone, unable to budge. This was not going according to plan. Under
the harsh yellow of the streetlight, the floozy he was with looked ugly and
sallow. Like of course she would; next to Serena every one of Markie’s
conquests would pale in comparison. As the pair started their way up the
flower-edged path, Tabitha sank back down into the loveseat. This was so
embarrassing. As if it wasn’t bad enough that she was here: sitting and waiting
on the veranda for her best friend’s boyfriend to come home. No, she also had
to watch him stick his tongue down some teenybopper’s throat.

            Okay so
technically he wasn’t cheating but still… Tabitha felt a sickness grow big in
her stomach.  The sight of Markie acting like some eighteen-year-old went
against everything she believed about men. Markie was supposed to be a good
one: the sort who didn’t read Playboy, drink or gamble and who would help his
wife change the baby’s nappies. Yet here he was, proving himself to be as
infallible as the next.

            Now she
knew for certain there was no such thing as perfect.

            Maybe if
she buried herself under the loveseat he and the bitch wouldn’t see her.
Though, from the looks of it they might not even make to the front door, what
with her dress already wrapped around her feet. Tabitha bent down to see
whether she’d even fit beneath the loveseat (should that be the route she
decided to take in the next two minutes), when the splintered wood snagged her
hair. Feck, she howled, frigging bloody hell. There was nothing worse than
having a clump of hair pulled out at the root.

            Except
maybe what came next….

            “What
the?”

            In the
background, Tabitha could hear the snogging come to an end. Still holding a
palm close to her fresh bald patch, she peered over the veranda’s brick
enclosure and saw Markie looking curiously towards the house. Or should she say,
looking curiously towards her.

            “Serena?”
he guessed, because that was the most logical choice. There wouldn’t be many
women waiting for Markie to come home.

            “No,”
Tabitha replied, pulling herself to full height. “It’s me, Tab.”

            She said
it as if the answer was obvious. As if Serena had better things to do than hang
around, waiting to see what her boyfriend got up to at night.

            “What are
you doing here?” he asked, as shocked as she was.

            “I think I
should be asking you that question,” Tabitha huffed back, motioning to the
witch on his arm.  

            Quite
unfairly, the girl fared better close-up. She looked young, bouncy and innocent
- make that stupidly naive actually. Rather than being annoyed at Tabitha’s
surprise jump-out-of-the-box, his date looked up for a threesome.

            Now
ideally Tabitha would have liked for the scenario to continue like this:
Markie
drops the tramp like a hot potato (her? I don’t even know who she is; I’m just
bringing her here so I can call her a cab.) He would then plead and cry like a
baby. Oh Tabitha, you have to help me…I miss Serena so much. Can you talk to
her and convince her that this break is a stupid thing? I want everything to be
like it used to be. Maybe even you and Rick can start joining us for double
dates.

            But this
was of course wishful thinking. Markie didn’t even like her, for reasons unbeknownst
to Tabitha. Obviously at this point she was still not ‘Rick material.’

“I’m
afraid I don’t owe you any explanations,” he said diplomatically.

            This
pissed Tabitha off incredibly. What if she wasn’t here spying but rather
waiting to tell Markie some awful news about Serena? That she was in an
accident, that a crane fell on her at work, or worse still, Serena was pregnant
and thinking about having an abortion because she wasn’t confident in Markie’s
love for her? Really he was being such a feckwit, acting like he wanted his
perfect baby fetus dead.

            “Who is
this ogre? Doesn’t she have a life?” Mark’s arm attachment said, glaring at
Tabitha as if she was the impostor and not the other way around.

            “I’ll
explain later,” Markie replied. Without so much as glancing at Tabitha, he
walked to the front door, opened it and ushered the girl inside.

            Only when
Markie was sure his hot prospect was safely behind closed doors did he turn
around.

            “Tabitha,”
he sighed. “I’m still not quite sure what you’re doing here. Did Serena send
you?”

            “Ha! In
your wildest bloody dreams!” she guffawed back. Really, the nerve of the guy. “As
far as I know she is out screwing old boyfriends right now.”

            Markie
smiled. At first Tabitha thought it was a pretend smile; you know the type,
when one is trying hard to hold back tears. But a second later she changed her
mind. She’d forgotten what guys were like: if an ex was spreading her legs,
they were only too happy to do the same. Markie probably thought he had the
green light now to jump that anorexic’s bones.

            “So you
had nothing better to do than hang around my place?” he grinned.

            “Oh I have
plenty of other things to do. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t messing
things up.”

            “By doing
what exactly?” he asked, dropping his ear closer.

            “By…by…”
Suddenly Tabitha was lost for words. Crap, when she arrived everything made
wonderful sense. She was acting the part of a concerned friend, now she was
playing the part of a borderline psycho… How in the world was she going to end
this awkward conversation sounding sane? Rick and Markie were best friends and
Markie would surely take this story back to the office resulting in Rick
thinking she was weird.

             “Look
Markie,” she smiled demurely, flicking some hair back to cover her new bald
spot that still hurt like hell. “Serena is my best friend; I just don’t want
you doing anything to hurt her.”

There,
that sounded good.

            “Like
stealing her white satin shoes and dying them red?”

            Smart-ass.
It was time to take the alternative route.

            “How about
we pretend this conversation never happened?” Tabitha tried instead. “You
didn’t see me and I didn’t see you.”

            “Sounds
like a good plan,” Markie grinned, patting her on the shoulder, “but you have
nothing to worry about, so don’t worry.”

            “Great
then I won’t,” Tabitha replied, setting off for down the street. “I have better
things to do with my time anyway.”

            As they
parted, the strangeness of the moment dissipated and neither of the two still
had any idea of the purpose for Tabitha’s visit. Maybe that too had dissolved
in the wake…

 

 

Despite having just
stepped out of a long-term relationship (for some fresh air, not permanently that
is), it felt like years since Serena had gone on a real date.

            Make that
almost a century. Serena couldn’t remember the last time she had gone out and
splurged on a dress with the simple desire to impress. A boy, that is. Like
most girls, she usually shopped only with herself and fashion magazines in mind
and as long as she thought she looked good in it then she knew Markie would be
okay with it too.

            But Jasper
wasn’t Markie; he was a blast from her lurid past. From memory his favorite
color on girls was blush pink so Serena set out on a hunting expedition to find
that perfect blush dress. It only took her about four hours and three car
trips. But there it was, in an obviously underrated boutique, hanging on the
specials rack: knee-length and strapless with a satin black ribbon running
underneath the bust line and just waiting to make Serena feel like a million
dollars. At forty bucks, it was much cheaper and better value than that silly
fortune-teller she sought. Moments like these always made Serena regret
throwing away money on stupid things. Imagine what her wardrobe would be like
if she gave up fast food, facials and made bargain shopping a serious career –
she could be the next Jackie O!

            “Wow,”
even Jasper felt compelled to say, after he had regained his breath (she had
obviously taken it away, you see). “You look beautiful.”

            “Thank
you,” Serena replied, gratefully. It was nice getting recognition when it was
deserved.

            Like two
school kids, they walked silently to the car, unsure of so many things. Should
they hold hands, kiss on the lips and what was the protocol again for door
opening – was she supposed to wait for Jasper to open the car door or open it
herself? Serena decided to slay the first two qualms by disregarding them while
holding out for the last. She had to. In a country where chivalry was almost
dead, it wouldn’t help anyone if Serena stamped it out even further.

            Luckily
Jasper got the message. His mother had trained him well.

            “Where are
we going?” she asked.

            “Oh I
can’t tell you that. It would ruin the surprise.”

            Now this
was a pleasant change. The last time Serena had experienced a surprise was when
she ate a Kinder egg (but even that wasn’t a real one, she already knew she’d
be getting a miniature car inside). Unfortunately the older you were, the
better your guessing skills, thus making wonder a thing of the past.

            “How about
just a little clue?”

            “Nup, sorry,
no can do. You’ll just have to be patient.”

            Gosh,
patience…honestly Serena couldn’t think of anything more frustrating. She hated
having to second guess anything. Like tonight, Jasper was wearing khaki pants
and a black shirt so they couldn’t be going anywhere too fancy. He was heading
north as opposed to south, so it wasn’t near the water. Plus they were
listening to alternative rock rather than Celine Dion so the mood was more
mellow than romantic. The only conclusion Serena could draw from this data was
that they were going to the circus, but then that would make Jasper a clown.

BOOK: The Numbers Game
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