"Most guys deserve it when they get screwed over," Tara explained. "They've hurt some poor girl in the past. Most likely they cheated on someone, and hurt both their girlfriend and the one they used."

What about the guys who haven't hurt anyone?" Yvonne asked

"They are going to screw someone over in the future." Tara stared into her coffee. "One way or the other, they're getting what they deserve."

Yvonne shook her head. During all the years she and Tara had been friends, her friend had gone through a steady stream of men, discarding each one like Kleenix and then yanking up another one to replace the previous. What made it worse was Yvonne's inability to grab onto even one man. It was as if Tara was unconsciously teasing Yvonne. She might as well have just said, "I am prettier than you and can get anyone you want."

"You have an interesting way of justifying yourself," Yvonne said sarcastically. "Of course, you neglect to mention you're probably part of the reason some of those guys end up as creeps later on. Did you consider that, or do you prefer to block it out?"

The raven haired girl Tara looked at her friend for a moment before answering. "Oh come off it. You know as well as I do there's not one man in our area who hasn't in some way been unfaithful or emotionally shattering to his lovers. They've all des erved what's happened to them. Just look around this coffee shop."

The two surveyed the coffee shop they practically called home. They knew every patron by name and could spout countless facts on each of them. Tara gestured to a lank, bushy haired man sitting in a booth by the window. "That jerk was dating four wom en at once! When the poor women found out and dumped him, he had the nerve to try to guilt trip one of them for it. And as for him," she went on, motioning to a stocky man with dread locks sitting across the shop, "he has a nasty tendency of getting his girlfriends to let him use things like credit cards, and when the credit limit hits, he's gone."

"Sounds like their fault," the red head replied. "Anyone should know better than to let someone use their credit card."

"But they were in love," Tara said mockingly. "These guys just turn a woman's emotions against them. It's no big deal to them so why should it be a big deal when I do the same thing back? They're just paying for what they've done in the pas t. Besides, most of them probably use it as a sob story to get some chick in the sack."

Yvonne leaned closer to friend. "Do you ever look for people to have a relationship with?"

"Nope," Tara replied. "Just men to destroy. When I want to settle down, I'll find a woman."

"Great. Plague both sexes."

"I'm kidding," Tara said in defense. "I'll probably want to settle one day, but why bother about it now? I'm having fun, and no harm's coming of my fun."

"Except for someone else's trust being ruined." Yvonne considered the whole conversation. "So you think there's not a guy you can't crack, right?" When Tara nodded, Yvonne continued. "Are you willing to make a bet on that?"

"Very willing."

"Are you fifty-dollars willing?" Yvonne asked.

Tara drummed her fingers. "Get to the point."

"My cousin has a friend who's just an absolute jerk. I swear, he looks for reasons to cut people down. He's the one who thought we should gather up all the starving children in the world and use them for a new fuel source." Yvonne leaned closer and whispered as if she were sharing a secret. "Even girls I know who have liked him haven't been able to get close to him. Now here's the deal. If you can get to him, date him for a while, make him very attached to you, and then do your big mind screw job on him, I pay you fifty bucks. If you can't complete any one portion of it, including if he dumps you first, you owe me."

"One change," Tara interjected. "If I can't get him to date me, no one wins. For all we know, he's just not into girls or has a girlfriend."

"Sounds fair to me," Yvonne said. "Want to go meet your opponent?"

"Meet him? Is he around here?"

"He's working at an electonics store a few blocks away," Yvonne answered. We'll just observe him, and then I'll ask my cousin to set it up for him to meet us at a club or something."

Tara laughed. "I can see it now. 'Hey, my friend and I have a bet about what's-his-name. Can you have him meet us so we can manipulate him?' By the way, why do you hate this guy so much?"

"I don't hate Brice," Yvonne said. "I just want to see him humbled. For as long as I remembered he's dealt insults to people like a cheap deck of cards. For once I'd like to see him come up with a bad hand."

"This isn't some psycho, 'I dated him and want revenge thing' is it?" Tara asked.

"Far from it," Yvonne blurted. "So do you wanna see him or what?"

The trip to the electronics store was short and filled with jokes about the impending contest. Once there, Tara quickly wanted to find her target.

"Calm down," Yvonne said. "You're not getting him today. That comes later. Today we just watch."

"Whatever. Where is he?"

Yvonne pointed to a far wall. "Right there. The tall guy with the stubble. That's Brice. Let's get a little closer."

Brice looked somewhat awkward like a descendent of Ichabod Crane. His beak nose and thick glasses made him look more like a deformed crow than a young man. His thick, feathery black hair was pulled back into a pony tail of plumage.

"Let me try to explain this to you," he said to an older angered customer. "What you have there is not a Pentium chip. It is a 486 chip. It has an overrider to make it go just as fast as a Pentium, but it's not the same thing."

The old man shook angrily at Brice's words. "It is so! The man who installed it said it was as good as a Pentium!"

"As good as and being aren't the same thing," Brice blurted. His face was a burning rouge, making him look more like a bird by the minute.

"Look, kid, I know damned good and well this thing's a Pentium! Now I want my system upgraded like I told you. Now if you can't do it I'll take my business elsewhere!" The old man smiled triumphantly as if he'd dealt a killing blow.

"Go ahead," Brice laughed. "They'll think you're as stupid as I do. I'm going to explain this to you one more time and then feel free to toddle back to the home, okay? You've got a Pekingnese puppy and a greyhound. Which is faster?"

The old man, bitter at Brice's insolence but wanting to find a chance to show him up, replied, "The greyhound."

"Right. Now, if we strap the little Pekingnese to a skateboard, attach a small rocket to his back like in the Roadrunner cartoons, and he then can travel as fast as the greyhound, does that make him a greyhound too?"

The old man didn't like where this was going. "No," he muttered.

"What? But he can go as fast as the greyhound. I guess maybe, just maybe, the ability to do something as fast as something else doesn't mean they have the ability to become something else. What do you know? I guess that means maybe, just maybe, it' s the same for your computer problem, which means you won't be able to get these MMX upgrades you want until you get a better computer. I guess that means I actually do know what I'm talking about."

"You should be ashamed of your disrespectful attitude, young man."

Brice's fury flared again, "I'm not alone, jerk! You had the gall to come in here, yell at one of my employees, make her cry, and then bitch at me like I could change space and time without hearing me out! Do us both a favor and keep your business t o the other boot licking stores who'll happily lie to you and tell you what you wanna hear."

From behind a few printers, the two young women observed.

"He's just a real sweetheart," Tara said.

"Wait until you hear his views on God," Yvonne added.

"I wanna meet him now. Introduce us." Tara looked at her friend expectantly. "Go on. Get him over here."

Yvonne, a bit taken by her friend's eagerness to start their contest, slowly walked towards the large crow in business clothes. "Hey, Brice! Remember me?"

He gawked at her, squinting to make details. "Yvonne? Long time. Need some computer equipment or just admiring my customer relations?" He glanced at the old man stumbling out of the store and spouting obscenities. "I think he likes me. I should have called him Dad."

"Actually, my friend Tara and I were just in the neighborhood and wanted to know if you'd come get lunch with us?"

Brice looked to Tara who smiled and waved to him. "She's cute. What's the deal here? She a psycho or what?"

"You're always searching for some conspiracy, aren't you?" Yvonne said. "Can't you once just think someone's doing something for you out of niceness?"

"No," Brice replied. "But I'll come. Let me go tell someone first." He disappeared behind a set of double doors to the rear of the building.

Tara ran up alongside of Yvonne. "So what's the news?"

"We're going to lunch, but he suspects something."

"It'll slip his mind. Most men have the same attention span as they did when they were in preschool. Put something nice to look at in front of them and all their suspicions go away."

Yvonne considered taking the opportunity to twist her friend's comment into a sharp retort but let it pass.

At lunch Tara made sure to sit exceedingly close to Brice and latch onto as much of his attention as she possibly could. She laughed at most of his comments and offered a few of her own, playing off his banter in the most complimenting way possible. Yvonne felt increasingly ill watching the whole display of flirtation. Tara boldly pressed her slim, curvy body against Brice's, wrapping her small arms around him. His facial expression showed he wasn't quite sure how to handle it, but Yvonne noted he wasn't fighting her off, either.

When Brice briefly got up to go to the rest room, the two women discussed the current situation.

"Well?" Yvonne asked expectantly.

"He's not very cute," Tara replied, "but that's good in this situation. He probably hasn't had a lot of girlfriends and that will make him a bit more eager."

"He seems interested," Yvonne said. "Of course, hanging on him and being sure to expose generous amounts of cleavage didn't seem to hurt."

"Don't get high and mighty on me," Tara warned. "This whole bet was your idea. I'm doing my best to get his attention, sweetie. Worried that you'll lose the bet?" She grinned maliciously. "Or is it that I'm better at getting men's attention?"

Yvonne gaped at Tara. "What the Hell? Geez, when'd you become such a self-centered bitch?"

"I've always been one," Tara said. "Besides, if I wasn't, I probably wouldn't be able to come onto him so strong. Watch and learn."

When Brice returned the trio finished up their lunch and went their separate ways. Tara was sure to give Brice her phone number and get a copy of his so there was no reason they'd lose contact. The overall tone of the meal was friendly and warm, Yvo nne thought, until she remembered why they were together. She felt a small amount of guilt, but thinking back to what kind of person Brice was, it was easily overcome.

That night, sandwiched somewhere between a gentle slumber and one o'clock, Yvonne's phone rang.

"Hello?" Yvonne asked painfully. "Who is it?"

"He called me. We just got off the phone after about three hours of talking," replied a feminine voice.

"You called me this early to tell me that?" Yvonne asked. "You mean you couldn't tell me tomorrow."

"It is tomorrow, sweetie," Tara said. "Besides, I thought you'd like to know he asked me out."

"You work fast," Yvonne replied coldly. "You must be proud."

"It was easy," Tara said without notice to her friend's tone. "He seems very eager. He's practically handing me the knife and turning it around. He's taking me somewhere in the evening. Wouldn't say where. Wanted to surprise me."

"Congratulations," Yvonne muttered. "Can I go back to sleep now?"

"That's a good idea," Tara said. "I need some sleep, too. Plus, I need to figure out what I can put an extra fifty bucks to use for." She laughed, said her good-bye, and hung up.

Yvonne rolled back into her futon, curling under the blankets and pondering the whole bet. She was opening Brice up to the same thing she'd griped about Tara doing to people, but it wasn't as if she was doing it to him. She looked at the teddy bear next to her, but it didn't give her any answers.

The next week flew by quickly. Yvonne saw Tara less but received nightly updates from her about the situation. Not a single day went by she and her birdman didn't spend a few hours. Tara assured Yvonne, though she'd leave the more private details o ut. What mattered was she had Brice around her little finger.

Their first date he took her on a picnic by a local lake. They made it there just as sunset was kissing the waters and sparking off the lake's surface. Tara swore he was nothing but complimentary the whole time. Originally she didn't think anything remotely humane could come out of his mouth, but that night he was as gentle as a pussycat. Not bragging or self-indulging of his ego like many guys, but instead he centered the conversation around Tara and her life. In the end, she said she'd talked t he entire night away and not learned a thing from him except he was very fond of her and wanted to go out with her again soon, so they did so the next night.

"He wanted to know about my past relationships," Tara told Yvonne over the phone. "I couldn't just tell him I look for guys to slam so I fed him some line about walking in on my last boyfriend screwing my ex-roomate."

Yvonne paused. "That's how my last relationship ended," she grumbled.

"I had to tell him something! Jesus, don't sound all pissy. Just think of it as your ex actually being useful."

"As long as my misery served a purpose."

"It's great," Tara went on, ignoring Yvonne's snide comments. "He's a complete gentleman, doesn't push anything on me at all, and is always interested in what I want or think. If it weren't for our bet, I'd probably keep him."

Yvonne glanced at the receiver and shook her head. "He's not a puppy, you know. He's a person."

"I know. If he'd been a puppy, I'd have upped the amount of the bet," Tara laughed.

"You really don't care anything about how people feel, do you?"

A slight pause interrupted the conversation. "Aren't you the one who came up with the bet? And you're giving me morality pointers? Do you want to call the bet off or what?"

"Look, I just feel a little bad about it."

"Do you want to call it off or what?" Tara repeated.

"No, I just -- well -- try not to be too hard on him, okay?" Yvonne asked.

"Sure, sure. I've got to go anyway. He's coming over in a few minutes. Talk later? Oh, I forgot. We're going to go clubbing tomorrow night and he thought I should invite you since I don't hang out with you as much as I had been before. He said I shouldn't blow my friends off on account of him. So, wanna go?"

"Sure," Yvonne droned. "Might as well watch you at work to see your wonders."

Yvonne regretted her decision the next night. Watching the two of them act sugary sweet made her stomach lurch. She was used to watching Tara coo and priss around guys, but knowing what was going on behind the scenes of this new play was bothering h er more and more. While Brice and Tara were engulfed somewhere in a packed crowd of trendy dancers, Yvonne planted herself at a table near the bar and went through Jell-O shots, occasionally doodling on a napkin.

"Nice artwork," Brice's voice said, "but I wouldn't quit whatever you're doing for art school."

Yvonne painfully looked around. "Hi. Where's your other half?"

"She had to powder her nose," Brice said, taking a seat. "So why so quiet, miss? Why hiding over in this corner? Tired of being hit on by all the drunks?"

"Just thinking about some things," Yvonne replied. She wanted to say what, but she knew if she did, she'd spill the entire situation to him and Tara would never forgive her.

"Thinking? Then you've not had enough alcohol," Brice said. "People don't think in clubs. Gets in the way of enjoyment."

"I've noticed. People don't think in a lot of places."

Brice glanced back at her artwork. "Cryptic, aren't we? Tell me, Muse, do I need to go to Hades and offer lamb's blood to a spirit to get the answer?"

Yvonne blinked. "You what?"

"Sorry. I forgot you've got chemicals in your system. Do you want to explain what's wrong to me?"

"It's nothing. Besides, it really doesn't affect you." Yvonne wanted to grit her teeth at that lie, but it would be too obvious.

"If you say so," Brice answered. "I'm going to try to hunt Tara down. If you feel like it, join us, okay? Try to cheer up."

"Brice?" Yvonne called as he stood.

"Yes?"

"Is it just me or are you less of a jerk?" Yvonne asked.

Brice's beak bobbed as he laughed. "I'm probably more of a jerk. Why?"

"You don't act like you used to. You don't take as many shots at me." Yvonne studied the liquid in her glass. "You're being nice."

"I was always nice. I was just nice in my own little way," Brice cawed.

"Oh, right. Like the time when I stopped by to see you a few years back and you said your ironing board was broken but you were positive I'd be a nice substitute."

Brice's cheeks rose with humor. "I was kidding you."

"You were pointing out I was flat."

"That too, but you were in high school then." Brice leaned forward. "You don't hold grudges over things like that, do you?"

"No," Yvonne said. What the Hell, she figured. She'd been lying about everything else.

"Truth is, Yve, I always loved having you around because you fought back." Brice stood again. "You're one of the few people who would ever put me back in place. Plus, you're a sweetheart. I'm sorry if I was mean to you."

As he walked away, Yvonne murmured to Brice, "Great. Now you have to stop being an asshole."

Yvonne learned another lesson that night. Alcohol actually speeds up time if you put enough of it in your body. A few more drinks and two hours passed like two minutes. She wasn't totally clear on how she got there, but Yvonne found herself in Tara 's car listening to her friend ramble.

"And there was this other guy who was looking really nice. I think he worked out. I got his number."

"What about Brice?" Yvonne asked.

"Oh, he wasn't there. I'd told him I needed to powder my nose." Tara continued on about three more guys who'd shown interest and reminded Yvonne she needed to make plans for a new man after the bet was off.

"Do you ever feel bad for Brice?" Yvonne asked drunkenly. "Even a tinge?"

"You know, a small amount, I do," Tara said. "He's only had one serious girlfriend. and he won't talk about her. He seems nice, but then I see a glint of evil in his eye. Pretty much takes my mind off it."

"I want you to go ahead and end it," Yvonne said. "Tomorrow."

"Already?" Tara asked. "Usually I drag things out a bit longer."

"I know you do, but I want you to end it now. Brice is actually turning out to be a nice guy, and you'll probably end up dating behind his back anyway." Yvonne searched through her foggy vision for Tara. "No use making the inevitable worse than it could possibly be."

"Fine, fine," Tara said, spinning the steering wheel. "Just have your money ready, okay? By the way, you have to be there when I do it."

"What?" Yvonne burst in a sudden, sober clarity. "Why?"

"To make it official. That way you know for sure," Tara said. "I'll have him meet us at the coffee shop, okay?"

"Correction. He'll meet you. I'll be there, but I won't be at the table. You can kill him without me."

The following day, when three o'clock rolled around, Brice strolled into the shop like clockwork. He immediately searched Tara out, who'd seated herself in the back so not to draw too much attention.

"Heya, sweets," he said. He plopped down in a chair and pushed close to her, pecking her on the cheek. "So what's going on?"

Tara gathered all the strength she had into her acting abilities and gave Brice a mournful face. "I've been thinking about us, Brice. I don't know if I like where things are going. I mean, I think we're going about this too fast."

"We're what?" Brice asked. "I don't get it. You seemed totally fine with things last night."

"I seemed that way," Tara said, "but it's been sorta bothering me. I mean, we've only known each other a short time and already you're telling me you love me."

"But you told me you loved me, too," Brice countered.

"I know I did, Brice," Tara said. He was becoming a bit loud. She hadn't thought he'd be the kind to make a scene. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I seriously believed I loved you, though."

"But you think now you were wrong?" Brice said.

A few tables away, Yvonne listened to Brice's voice and heard his heart shrivel and shriek agonizingly like a lobster slowly lowered into boiling water.

"Brice, please, let's not make a scene," Tara begged.

"But I loved you! And you loved me! That night we staid by the lakeside and I cradled you in my arms! I poured myself out to you!" Brice's voice rose to a tone just below yelling. "I told you things I never told anyone else! I watched the sunset bathe you in its glow, and we made love under the moon, and now you tell me it was all a mistake?"

Tara felt a humiliating burn in her face as she looked around the coffee shop. Everyone was staring at her. "Please, Brice. Maybe this was a bad idea. Can we talk about this somewhere else?"

Brice reached into his jacket and dropped a small black jewelry box on the table. "I even bought this for you. Oh, sure, it was two paychecks and money would be tight, but I felt you were so worth it! I was so worried the diamond in the ring would be flawed next to your beauty, but now I see the only flaw was my thinking you could ever love me."

Tara heard quiet voices whispering. "Brice, I'm sorry, but -"

"Leave him alone, tramp," a pretty young blonde girl said. "You've stabbed him already. You don't have to pour salt in his wound."

"It's not like that!" Tara demanded. "I mean, I didn't mean to -- I -- ugh --" At a loss for words, Tara stood and looked at Brice once more. "I'm really sorry, Brice. I didn't mean to hurt you like this."

His pained, dying animal eyes reflected her image through glossy tears. "How did you want to hurt me?"

The blow of the comment pushed Tara back, and she spun about and headed to the door. A barrage of glared and slurs comments shot and pierced her before she reached safety outside.

When Yvonne made it to the parking lot, she found Tara sitting on the hood of her car. "You okay?"

"I actually felt bad about that," Tara said. "I honestly felt guilty. He bought me a ring?"

Yvonne nodded. "I guess I owe you now. You did it, although you probably should have chosen somewhere else to break up with him."

"It's not as bad as it seems," Brice said. He appeared from behind the truck next to Tara's car. "I made off with a few girls' phone numbers in there. Not too bad, I think."

"Brice, you don't know how sorry I am," Tara whimpered.

"Quite the contrary, I know precisely how sorry you are," he answered. "You think I hadn't figured out you were setting me up? I'm not as stupid as you pretend not to be, Tara. Besides, I got some things out of it. A few dates lined up with girls who go for the victim, some time with you, and the chance to knock your ego down a few blocks." He turned to the red head. "See you later, Yve. Tell your cousin hi for me."

As he walked off, Tara stared in disbelief. "This isn't right. I didn't deserve this."

"Right," Yvonne said. "You're the victim. How rude of him not to let you screw him over. Why, if I were you, I'd demand a rematch."

"Shut up, Yvonne. This isn't funny."

Yvonne's smile vanished. "You're totally right. We should do something about it."

Tara looked at her. "Like?"

"For starters, you could pay me fifty bucks."

Yvonne collected her money and watched her friend drive off in an angry huff. No sooner had Tara's car pulled from the parking lot than Yvonne went to find Brice.

"Yve, need a ride home?" Brice asked. He pushed his way into his little '79 Mustang.

"No," she replied. "I wanted to apologize, though, for what I did."

"And you did what?" Brice asked.

"Bet Tara she couldn't crack you."

Brice stared. "I might forgive you. How much was the bet?"

"Fifty bucks," she answered sheepishly.

"Just fifty bucks? Surely you had more faith in me than that!" Brice crossed his arms. "When do I get my cut?"

"You don't even care you were used?" Yvonne asked.

"Why should I? I knew from the start," Brice answered. "She was too eager and excited. Besides, last night I saw her getting phone numbers from guys. She's not terribly bright, you know? She bragged to me about all the guys who'd wanted her in th e past and told a couple stories that wised me up early on. I knew if she'd do that to them, she'd do that to me."

Yvonne smiled. "You actually played her. Someone actually outdid Tara."

Brice smiled, idling the engine. "You seem pretty happy for someone who's best friend just got a snow job."

"She's done it to so many other people and constantly reminded me of it." Yvonne looked a way. "She could do it and I couldn't. I felt like she was telling me how much better she was."

"Better at what?" he asked. "Would you seriously want to be able to outdo her in that arena? She's just going to end up old and haggard with no one to turn to because she spurned everyone who cared about her." He reached into his pocket and pulled the black ring box out again and popped it open. "For you."

"Wow," Yvonne laughed. "You spent two paychecks on this?"

Brice nodded. "Went through a lot of gumball machines to get the right one."

"So you're not mad at me?"

"No, I'm not mad," Brice said. "Do you feel better now?"

Yvonne smiled. "Yes. A lot better. Thanks."

"Why don't you hop in?" Brice suggested. "We can go somewhere, and I'll help you spend that fifty dollar bill."

"Seems only fair," Yvonne said. She climbed into the faded Mustang. "What about Tara?"

"What about her?" Brice asked. "So she's been knocked down a peg or two. It'll just give her one more story to use as bait for the next guy." He shrugged. "Do you feel bad for her?"

"No, but when I think about it --"

"There you go thinking again," Brice said. "First stop for us is a bar. I swear to you," he said as the car lazily crawled from its space, "before the night is through, I'm going to break you of that habit."