The Numbers Game (53 page)

            As she let
out an uncontrollable “feck”, the whole lot of them turned to stare at Serena,
Jasper included. She wasn’t sure what to do next. It was obvious the conference
had come to an end, that this was just casual last minute chitchat taking
place. Now maybe if Jasper had been hunched over tying his shoelace or plain
distracted, Serena would have gone for the bolt. But she couldn’t very well do
that now. Jasper was eyeballing her in the most severe way, with a thick amused
grin on his face. 

            At least
out of her embarrassment came one solved mystery – the location of the missing
artist all this time.

            “Um…I’m
sorry. I’m afraid I have the wrong room.” She smiled meekly, and tried to
retract her steps as delicately as possible. It looked like she was doing a sad
attempt at Michael Jackson’s moon-walk.

            “No you
don’t,” Jasper called, just as Serena had made it to the finish line. “Excuse
me, fellows.”

            He patted
a few pin-stripe suited men on the back, signed a couple more A3 size prints of
his painting and made his way across the room to Serena.

            “Shall
we?” he said when he reached her. Up close he looked tanner, cuter and more
famous than ever.

            “Yes?”
Serena gulped, not knowing if that was the right answer.

            “Good.
Come along this way Tabitha.” A wink sealed the proof that Jasper was no longer
angry at her.

            Removing
the media pass responsible for this whole mess, Serena followed Jasper into
another meeting-type room like he was the Piped Piper. She couldn’t quite
describe the tidal wave of emotions that came crashing down upon her by this
time: fear, nervousness, the latent excitement of stepping into the unknown. If
she had had any prior notion of how to broach this meeting (and some game plan
would’ve been nice) Serena lost it in the last three minutes.

            It was
simply her, Jasper and a couple of unanswered questions.

            “So?” he
said, sitting down on a giant mahogany conference table. For the record, Jasper
looked very much like David Beckham in black Armani, his lean muscles surely
knotting under the weight of the suit. On second thoughts, maybe there was a touch
of Markie in him too. If one ignored the obvious differences (average height
versus tall, lean versus bear-like, golden boy versus dark-haired prince)….Markie
had a suit just like this one.

            “Yes?”
Serena said, shoving the comparisons to the back of her mind.

            “You
obviously came here for a reason. Care to share what it is?”

            “I think
you know why I’m here,” Serena replied. She tried not to look into Jasper’s
puppy-dog eyes (another thing he and Markie had in common). Keep it detached,
keep it brief.

            “Not
really,” Jasper shrugged. “I thought everything was made quite clear on the
night that your boyfriend Markie called you up.”

            “He’s not
my…I mean he wasn’t my boyfriend at the time.” Serena sighed. This was going to
be more difficult than she thought. It was time to take it SLOW.

            “Look
Jasper let’s put aside the fact that I perhaps failed to share with you my
entire relationship history when we hooked up. The reality still was that you
and I were seeing each other. We were in the beginning stages of what I deemed
to be love. At least I thought it was love seeing as you said I love you too.
I
promise never to let you go Serena
, remember?” Serena didn’t mean to mimic
Jasper’s voice but she couldn’t help it.

            “And while
I may not be an expert on such matters, it’s my understanding that when a
problem crops up, boyfriends typically sit down and discuss it with their
girlfriends. They try to resolve it or if it can’t be resolved they try to come
up with some sort of mutual agreement. They do not run away, they do not
disappear off the face of the earth. At least that’s my understanding.”

            Serena
stopped to take a breather and noticed Jasper was smiling in that weird way at
her again.

            “What?
What is it? Is what I’m saying so horribly wrong?”

            “No, it’s
just you look so cute when you’re passionate about something.”

            “Forget
cute,” Serena bellowed back. She was angry now, she wanted answers. “I’d prefer
it if you tell me why exactly you felt compelled to dump your home, your job,
even your bloody cell phone? Was that all because of me?”

            Jasper was
laughing now.

            “Serena,
Serena.” He shook his head. “You should know me better than that. I may be
immature and non-confrontational but I don’t consider you to be some stalker.”

            “You sure
treated me as if I was a bloody stalker.”

            “If you
look at it from the paranoid female way,” he grinned, biting his lip. Then came
the pensive expression. “Look the reality is maybe I’m not that good with
relationship conflict. Maybe I did run away but it was for the best, at least I
got out before both our hearts got smashed to smithereens. I take it you’re
with Markie again.”

            “Um…” Serena
bit her lip until she almost drew blood. If she said yes would she be burying
herself in her own grave?

            “You don’t
need to say yes, because I already know. I called your place three days ago,
just for old time’s sake. Markie answered, sounded like a nice guy.”

            “You
didn’t?” Serena froze.

            “Wrong
number I said. Don’t worry; I’m not about to rock the boat. Chances are we
wouldn’t have lasted much longer anyway.”

            “Oh
really….because?” Serena asked. It worried her how Jasper seemed to have
clairvoyant skills, in addition to all his other great attributes.

            “My career
for starters. The apartment and job had to go anyway thanks to my upcoming
Asia-Oceania tour later this year. ”

            “Wow
that’s very convenient,” Serena mumbled. What better way to get over heartbreak
than an international tour?

            If truth
be told, by this point something wasn’t quite sitting right with Serena. For
starters Jasper didn’t look like he’d just had his poor fragile heart smashed
to tiny bits. To the contrary he looked like he didn’t give a hoot. Which would
call for a miraculous recovery, wouldn’t you say?

            Then it
crashed upon her like a tidal wave from hell.

            “Oh my gosh,
you were planning to leave me anyway! That whole overreacting about the call
from Markie, the whole ‘you have betrayed me’ scene - it was just an excuse,
the perfect way to get out of the relationship without looking like the bad
guy. I’m right; tell me how right I am.”

            Serena
stared at Jasper, her ears burning red at the tips. Jasper didn’t need to say
anything; he didn’t even need to put on that guilty look as some sort of
congratulatory consolation prize. Because the truth, the real truth was, one
did not spend hours upon hours with someone without learning something. Call it
women’s intuition, but there was a knowing within her that no amount of contrary
evidence could ever dispute. And Serena had just tapped into that resource.

            At least
Jasper had the tact not to try and deny it.

            He had
never really loved her. If he had he wouldn’t have left her the way he did.
Jasper was simply going through the motions of love, like an actor reading from
a well-versed script. At the end of the day when his work was done he’d dropped
that script, stepped out of his costume, shedding along with it his last shreds
of feeling as he walked away.

            There was
no reason why Serena could not do the same.

            “Look it
was nice speaking to you; it was also nice seeing you one last time. But now I
have to go. Goodbye Jasper.”

            With that
Serena stormed out of the room and out of his life forever. Mission completed.

Traditionally the wrap
party marked the completion of principal photography on a movie.

            Now by no
means was the movie complete at this stage: there was a great deal of tedious
editing and post-production for the director and sound engineers to get
through. But by and large the work of all the Important People (think actors
and general crew) was over and the studio - generous folk that they were -
liked to give a little back to their faithful workers after taking oh so much
away.

            The good
thing was ninety nine times out of a hundred they did it in grand style (though
of course Serena had the misfortune of attending one with Pizza Hut pizzas and
only wine, beer and Coke for drinks.) Fortunately with the big budget of
“Never, Ever Again”, they couldn’t afford not to make a scene. Not only did
they secure the Pavilion room out at The Ritz-Carlton (located in the
prestigious Nob Hill it was the only hotel in North America to capture
both five stars and five diamonds apparently) they also gave the guests an
option to take up a suite for a substantially reduced price (next best thing to
free).

            Upon
hearing the offer Markie jumped at the chance.

            “Yes,
yes,” Markie clapped his hands excitedly, “tell them you want to confirm it
right now.”

            This was
the same man who usually cringed at attending wrap parties, due to the serious
kiss ass factor. He handed Serena the phone and nudged her ever so slightly
with his elbow. “Go on, what are you waiting for?”

            Well…nothing
really. Serena took the cordless, idly made the call and crossed it off her
to-do list which also included finding the perfect dress and coordinating a
hair stylist, masseur and beauty therapist to work on her back to back on the
day. Serena was no fool; she knew all that the wrap party symbolized. The death
of one era, the birth of another… Once the party was over, she had less than
thirty-six waking hours left in San Francisco.

            Serena was
determined to make the most of them.

            Amazingly
enough finding the dress of her dreams was not that hard given that Markie
insisted she “just this once not take one look at the price tag.”

            “Honestly
forget about rationalizing whether you are going to get your money’s worth. Find
a dress which makes you feel like a million dollars.”

            So Serena
did just that. When her eyes casually fell on the jade-green Versace strapless
dress and she slipped it on, she momentarily felt the joy that must come from
being a movie star or having tons of money. The utter freedom in declaring
“I’ll take this and that and that as well”.” So what if the dress could fund a
school for a year back in Ethiopia, she was allowed to splurge. Markie had
given her permission to be a completely gluttonous pig for once. It was her
Make Up After Their Break Up gift after all.

            Finally
when the big night came, Serena couldn’t help but make silent comparisons to
the Academy Awards. Maybe it was the dress or the full-on body treatments, or
maybe it was the warmth in the air, but something about the evening made Serena
feel totally like Gwyneth nervously anticipating her first Oscar win.

            “You’re
just nervous about the move,” Markie assured her, looking rather smart himself
in a new Versace suit (why not match perfectly was his rationale in buying it.)
“Tonight we’re going to eat, drink and be merry and when we’re done we’ll
retreat to our stunning Ritz-Carlton suite to continue a night of unbridled
passion.”

            “Sounds
like a perfect end to a perfect day,” Serena smiled.

            And it
was. Only thing was to get to that final point many things – like the party and
saying goodbye to her friends - had to also be over.  But such was life…wishing
away lesser moments for the bigger ones, the bigger ones for others that never
come.

            Needless
to say once they arrived at the hotel and flashed their gold-trimmed invites,
all those worries and more got washed away in an instant. It was funny how a
terribly flash location could do that to you. Now if one has never been to the
Ritz Carlton in San Francisco or any of the sixty odd Ritzs around the world,
then the best way to describe the sight you’ve missed out on is: Palace of
Versailles. Most people were familiar with the extravagance of the palace which
housed the Kings of France from 1682 to 1790 (so grand and luxurious it was impossibly
expensive to maintain. Historians estimate that maintaining the palace cost as
much as 25% of France’s entire national income). 

            As they
climbed the grand stairs up to the second level Serena and Markie half-expected
to cross paths with Clara Bow and Greta Garbo or any other 1920’s glamour icon.
Such was the atmosphere at the Ritz or more particularly in the Pavilion room,
home to “Never, Ever Again” wrap party; five hundred and seventy five square
meters of Victorian décor, velvet drapes, crystal chandeliers and original 18th
and 19th century portraits.