“Yeah, Mr. Two-timer,” Jamie added sarcastically.

Both women glared at him. Fearing a scene, Jason waved the women in. They stepped into his room, but kept their arms folded over their chests and turned to look at him fiercely as Jason closed the door behind them.

Dammit, he was busted. “I’m so sorry, ladies,” Jason apologized. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I just got carried away, not thinking about how you would feel. I’m such a swine.”

The women said nothing, but fumed at him.

“I feel terrible. You both deserve so much better than a lying, two-faced…” Jason stopped. He was suddenly aware that the two women were frozen, and that every noise coming from the dining hall, the hallway, or the men’s dorm had also ceased, leaving the rescue mission oddly silent, except for the sound of someone retching, followed by violent dry heaving.

“Thank God for these wax-lined barf bags. That was sickening.” The capuchin monkey folded up the top of a white bag, then carried it to the window. Opening the window a foot or so, he dropped the bag straight down into the dumpster in the alleyway. The monkey slid the window back down and wiped his wide lips with the back of his arm. “I had fruit salad earlier, and just threw it all back up. Got a dime?”

Jason dropped a nickel and five pennies into the monkey’s tin cup.

“There are alpha males and beta males,” the monkey began. “Women are not attracted to beta males, and that was a pathetic beta performance. Those two women lost whatever attraction they may have had for you.”

“Lost it?” Jason was puzzled. “I mean if they were attracted to me, there’s got to be something there? Maybe they’re angry, but…”

“Women’s attraction to you is based on your dominance, and you just revealed that you’re weak. That kills any attraction they had.” The monkey sat on his haunches on the table. “Alpha males never apologize. Never. Let’s say you just made a decision that caused a bus full of children to die in a fireball. What does the alpha male say? ‘Oh well, shit happens.’ Let’s say you’re caught banging her mother and her sister at the same time. What does the alpha male say? ‘I was just bringing the family closer together.’ Being an alpha male means never having to say you’re sorry.”

“But…” Jason was stunned by what he was hearing, and was uncertain what to say. “But isn’t it wrong to be cheating, seeing two women at the same time?”

“No!” the monkey exclaimed. “That’s what alpha males do all the time. You’ve just got to be up front and own it. Both women knew the other one was in the picture, so they eventually decided to test you, to see if you would crumble, or if you would commit to one of them.”

Jason stood and stared at the small monkey, trying to figure it all out.

“This is the mating game. There is no right or wrong. The rules are for betas, to keep them at arm’s length.” The monkey began counting on his long, thin fingers. “No sex until marriage, no sex until the third date, no sex with strangers, you can only date one woman at a time, the man pays for everything, good girls don’t do that…those rules are designed to keep betas in check—they don’t apply to alphas.”

“I need to sit down.” Jason pulled over a chair from the table and dropped down into it.

The monkey pointed at him with his tin cup. “What do you really want?”

“Well, I’d like to have a meaningful relationship; I just don’t know with which woman. They’re both attractive, and each of them has her strong points, but how do I choose?” Jason raised his hands palms up in a gesture of resignation.

“You can have a meaningful, platonic relationship with a 300 pound, bald, eighty-year-old woman, or you can have meaningless, mind-blowing sex with a twenty-year-old centerfold nymphomaniac. Which do you want? Imagine your choice is how you’ll spend the next year in the game.”

Jason hesitated. There was the right answer, the moral answer, the answer that any self-respecting man with a shred of dignity would give, and then there was the honest answer. Jason blew out a gust of air. “I’ll take the centerfold.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” The monkey patted Jason on the shoulder with his tiny hand. “Look at the two women there. What do you really want?”

Jason studied the two women, who were frozen like mannequins, and tried to figure it out. Jamie was slimmer and younger. Belinda was more experienced and voluptuous. Jamie was less experienced, but eager to learn. Belinda was outgoing; Jamie was shy.

“Imagine you’re an alpha male,” the monkey urged him. “There are no rules and there are no limits. What do you want?”

An idea occurred to Jason, an idea that he was prone to dismiss as crazy and blasphemous. But as he thought about it, the idea appealed to him. “I want them both.”

“Yes!” The monkey banged his tin cup on the table repeatedly. “So why didn’t you tell them that?”

“Come on, be serious, they’re not going to go for that. I’ve got to choose one.” Jason looked to the monkey for confirmation.

“No, that’s only for betas.” The monkey shook his head widely, from one shoulder to the other.

“But what if I say I want them both, and they say no?” Jason asked. “Then I’m left with nothing.”

“That is such beta thinking! That’s why you suck with women, and not suck in the good way.” The monkey reached over and tapped Jason’s forehead with one finger. “You have a scarcity mindset. The beta male is used to getting nothing, and he’s afraid that he’s going to lose a woman, so he begs, pleads, apologizes, and supplicates. The alpha male believes in abundance. Imagine you’re Gene Simmons of KISS, with a long line of women outside your bedroom door. How worried would you be that these two women would reject you?”

“That sounds kind of far-fetched.”

“It’s not far-fetched at all,’ the monkey countered. “The members of KISS had huge lines of women outside their hotel rooms. So did Garth Brooks. Tom Jones has women throw their hotel room keys up on the stage. Wilt Chamberlain slept with several thousand women. You’ve got to believe that sexual abundance is possible, and go for it.”

Jason frowned. “I still don’t see why both women would agree to be with me at the same time.”

“Why is bigamy, in which multiple women share a single husband, so common in human history?” the monkey asked, raising his eyelids to expose his beady eyes fully. “Because women would rather share an alpha male than have a beta male all to themselves.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Jason acknowledged. “I read somewhere that throughout the world and throughout the ages, plural marriages have been more common than monogamy.”

“Neither of these women wants to stay in a flophouse her entire life,” the monkey explained. “You’re the only man here at the rescue mission who has any money, some kind of ambition, and the gumption to go out and earn yourself some money. You’ve shown yourself to be fearless and heroic, willing to sacrifice yourself for the men, even though there’s nothing in it for you. That’s altruism, which is highly attractive to women, which explains why women are attracted to firemen, who are a combination of altruism and rugged masculinity. Both women are willing to keep your plate spinning, especially because they have so few other options.”

This was a video game, right? As Jason thought about it, he figured he had nothing to lose. If these women said no, there was Betty, the redheaded candy striper who worked at Dr. Steinman’s office. If he wound up alone in the game, it was no different than his life as a teacher.

“Okay,” Jason consented. “I’ll go for it.”

“Great,” the capuchin said, patting him on the shoulder. “Just make certain you get it right this time, ‘cause I only had one barf bag.”

The monkey suddenly appeared in front of the two frozen women, wearing a beret and a silk ascot tied in a puffy knot at his throat, while smoking a cigarette in a holder, looking like a director of a French black-and-white art film. The capuchin held up a scene board, with a diagonally striped clacker on a hinge. “Two-Timer, take two!” The monkey snapped the strip down onto the board.

The women disappeared, followed by a knock at the door.

Jason opened the door. Sisters Jamie and Belinda stood outside the door with their arms folded over their chests, although Sister Belinda had to tuck her arms under her massive breasts. Both women glowered at him.

“Sister Belinda and I have been comparing notes,” Sister Jamie said tersely.

The big woman gave him a contemptuous look. “You’ve got some explaining to do, buster.”

“Come in, ladies,” Jason said pleasantly, waving to the interior of his room.

“Yeah, Mr. Two-timer,” Jamie added sarcastically.

Both women glared at him. They stepped into his room, but kept their arms folded over their chests and turned to look at him fiercely as Jason closed the door behind them.

“Explaining?” Jason asked.

“You’ve been with both of us,” Sister Belinda growled, “as though we wouldn’t find out.”

“Yes,” Jason said calmly.

“So aren’t you going to apologize?” Sister Jamie asked, cocking her head to one side.

“No.” Jason remained unperturbed.

“So you think you can just two-time us?” Sister Belinda asked, and Jason noticed that she seemed to be frustrated that he wasn’t cowed and apologetic.

“I would like to stay friends with both of you,” he said.

“Friends?” Sister Jamie asked, looking at him incredulously.

“Yes, friends. Look, ladies, I like you both, and I think we’ve enjoyed our times together. There’s no reason why it can’t remain that way.” Jason saw the two women look at each other briefly. “I’m not the type of guy to get married or tied down. I think we can all continue to enjoy each other’s company.”

The two women looked at each other, unsure of what to say.

“Well, mister, I’m sorry, but it’s not going to work out like that,” Sister Belinda huffed and put her hand on the doorknob.

“That goes for me, too,” Sister Jamie added, and moved to Sister Belinda’s side.

The big, shapely woman opened the door and the two women left, slamming the door behind them.

Jason pulled up a chair and poured himself a drink. He was surprised that he didn’t feel devastated. Instead, he felt proud that he hadn’t caved, like he’d done for Ms. Ylarregui, or any of a number of other times as a teacher, or as a guy desperate to get a date and a girlfriend. Instead, he remained strong, and stood up for what he wanted. Like having money in the bank, this was the way to live.

After finishing his drink, Jason went to the bathroom, climbed up onto the toilet tank, and removed the ceiling panel. Hauling himself up into the room above his, he picked up the revolver he took from the blonde man last night. Jason pocketed the gun, carefully lowered himself back onto the toilet tank, and replaced the ceiling panel. When he returned to the table in his room, he studied the revolver, which was a break-open design, meaning the revolver separated into two parts, the cylinder and barrel, and the grip, pivoting on a hinge while at the same time ejecting the cartridges in the cylinder. The wheelgun was a .32 long, a rather underpowered, archaic caliber. Jason decided to pawn the gun and see what he could get for it. He removed the two empty casings and the cartridges, then dropped them into his pocket, while placing the revolver behind his hip.

The owner of Diamond Dave’s Pawn Shop offered him $6.50 for the gun, which Jason accepted. Remembering Gene Simmons’s advice that he should live on half his income or less, Jason stopped by the stock broker on the way back and deposited another four dollars into his low-fee index fund. He was gratified to see the gold ribbon appear on his watch, together with a total of $24 in the game wealth column.

When Jason got back to the rescue mission, there was a package waiting for him. “Thanks, Sister Belinda,” Jason said as he took the package from her. He ignored the irritation that Sister Belinda was trying to convey, and remained pleasant. He carried the hefty package, and sure enough, when he opened it in the privacy of his room, he saw that he’d received several boxes of ammo. It was time to go shooting.

* * *

It had been a long day, and thank God that seventh period, the period from hell, was finally over. In the midst of the chaos, the disrespect, and the constant noise from the students, all 33 of whom were jammed into his room, Jason continually tried to teach without interruption, but found himself growing frustrated. The thought of The Midas Game was his ray of hope, his light at the end of a dark tunnel.

“Mr. Whitlock?” the secretary spoke aloud over the intercom. Mrs. Bennett, a new hire, was the only secretary. The other experienced secretary had quit her job to take up real estate, but the unstated truth was obvious, that Ms. Ylarregui’s brusque manner had pushed her out, and she was eager to get out of the toxic front office.

“Yes?” Jason called out.

“Can you pick up the handset?” Mrs. Bennett asked.

“Sure,” Jason shouted and went to his desk. He picked up the phone. “Yes?”

“Stacy Asumendi’s parents are here. They want to see you in the principal’s office.”

Jason’s gut knotted up. Stacy was in his seventh period class, and this wasn’t going to be good.