Flirting in Space

“Where is my?…” The girl looked around the red velvet floors of the bar, then reached into her back pocket only to find it empty.

“In the bag.”

A male voice spoke. For the first time, she looked ahead and saw a bartender standing behind the bar, three red plastic cups beside him and a bag perched behind him near the drinks.

“Oh.” She ran up to the bar stool enthusiastically. Sitting down, it swivelled as she leaned forward, hand outstretched, her right pinkie and thumb indented. “Can you pass it to me?”

“Do you know where you are?”

“No…”

She heard her phone ping from inside her bag.

“My phone is inside the bag.”

The man didn’t move.

“I already told you that.”

The girl pouted. “Well… can you give it to me?”

The phone pinged again. Multiple times. Her foot tapped as she wondered about the incoming notifications. She’d just posted something on social media. Hadn’t she?

“It matters to you? Even now?”

“Yes,” she said angrily. “My entire job is…”

“You don’t have a job anymore.”

Her mouth dropped open. “What?”

“You’re dead.”

“I— Just give me my phone back.”

“You’re dead.”

She looked straight into his dark eyes. “Then why is it still pinging?”

The man didn’t answer. Huffing, she stood up and started to walk away from the table.

“You’ll get it back if you play a game.”

She stopped in her tracks. Whipping around, her hair flashed blonde behind her. Mindlessly, she jogged back to the table, her stack of golden bracelets clicking together. Crossing her legs, she sat back on the stool and pulled down the edges of her dress.

Her arms dropped to the table, head in hands. “What’s the game?”

The man moved the three cups towards her, then turned them upside down against the table. He held up a small black plastic ball.

“I’m going to put the ball under a cup. Switch them. If you guess which cup it’s in, then I’ll give you your phone back.”

“What if I don’t guess it right?”

“Don’t worry,” he said, setting the ball under the middle cup. “You get to guess until you do.”

“I don’t get—” Her glance went to the bag behind the bar. “Whatever, just switch them.”

The man switched the cups slowly.

The girl lowered her head, examining their rims, looking for any gaps. Was that how this worked? But then again, he said she could do this as many times as she wanted.

She pulled her head back up and pointed to the cup on the left. “That one.”

The man lifted it.

Empty.

“Okay.” She clicked her fingers. “Do it again.”

The man lifted the cups, revealing the ball beneath the centre one. Then he added a fourth cup, placed the ball underneath it and switched them.

“This is harder now,” she groaned.

“Your odds are still the same.”

“I’ve never been good at math.” She rolled her eyes. “But I’m sure another cup makes the odds lower.”

“And yet, it doesn’t.”

“Do you think I’m stupid or—”

“Just pick.”

It had been in the centre before. But now there were four. She picked the one centre-left.

The bartender lifted the cup.

Empty.

Another ping from her phone. Her eyes darted towards it, the screen glowing for a moment before she had to dial herself back to the bartender. She shifted impatiently in her chair.

The man calmly added a fifth cup, placed the ball underneath and switched them around.

Her gold ring stabbed into her temple as her hand flew to it. “God…”

Her phone pinged five times in a row.

“That one,” she said, pointing to one in the middle. It must have been random either way. She’d choose the fastest option until it worked in her favour.

The bartender lifted the cup.

Nothing.

“Guessing faster isn’t going to work,” he offered, adding another cup and repeating it all over again.

Her phone rang.

“At least turn it on silent. This is so distracting.” She uncrossed and recrossed her legs, lazily pointing to the cup on the far right.

Again, there was no ball underneath it.

The bartender began setting up the next round.

She didn’t realise her palms were sweating until her hand tangled in her hair. She yanked it free and a piece of hair extension came with it, a thick blonde strand landing across the bar.

The bartender looked at it, unblinking.

She quickly swiped the hair onto the floor, running her hand over where it had fallen from to feel for a bald spot.

Her phone rang.

Louder this time.

“Can’t you just turn it off?”

“I’ll give it back to you,” he replied. “Play.”

The girl motioned at a cup centre-left, already expecting to be unlucky.

The bartender lifted it.

Empty.

The phone rang even louder as he set the game up again.

Another round.

Another cup.

Another ring.

She pointed.

Empty.

Again.

More cups. More noise.

She started picking at her nails. More hair had collected on the bar now. She couldn’t remember pulling it out. Her manicure had chipped down to sticky glue, makeup rubbed off against her rings. Her bracelets scratched against the hives spreading over her wrists.

The phone kept ringing.

Her perfume had become unbearable. Floral and sweet and thick, mixed with the smell of glue caught underneath her nails. Flowers left too long in water, stems softening into rot while the petals still smelled expensive.

She picked another cup.

Empty.

Her finger moved immediately to another.

Empty.

She stopped looking at the bartender altogether. Her eyes moved only between the cups now, trying to follow the scratches along their rims, the dents in the plastic, anything that separated one from the next. She rubbed at her temple again. The ring caught against her skin.

The phone rang incessantly.

She couldn’t take it anymore.

“Pick—” he started.

The girl knocked over all eighteen cups on the table.

Plastic scattered across the bar.

There was no ball anywhere.

She froze.

“What?” She looked underneath the overturned cups. Her eyes darted from one to the next, then underneath the edge of the bar. “What?”

The bartender started resetting the game. “Play again.”

She pushed aside two of the cups, searching underneath them again as though something might have appeared.

“But there’s nothing to find!”

“Exactly.”

The bartender held up the little black ball.

She stared at it.

He set it under a cup and shuffled them around.

Her phone kept ringing.

She plugged her ears. Everything around her melting into plastic and glue. The perfume caught in her throat. Her scalp stung. Her nails were sticky against her ears.

Still, through the gaps between her fingers, she watched the cups.