The Influence
IX. Like a House on Fire
Chapter 57
I swim just below the surface, luxuriating in the ease with which I push myself forward through the cool and sweet liquid. Ahead of me is one of the many imperfections in this world, the bottom rising up from my natural domain into dry nothingness crawling with vermin. How I detest them for their stupidity and their ignorance, but most of all for being inaccessible. Yet there are so many of them that they could provide eternal sustenance when harvested wisely, if only they were within my reach. I feel hunger now, and impotence, and tremble in frustration. I, the most perfect being, am forced to forage for scraps while there is a feast waiting for me. I have visited their cursed realm many times, either by separating a part of myself or sending out my thought children, but until now without much success. The first is time consuming, and I still get the proportions wrong occasionally. The second is easier, but in both instances the pickings have been poor.
I sense one of the vermin in its puny craft, attempting to catch life forms in the water with a primitive collection tool. It is not enough to sate my hunger, but feeding is sacred and must not be omitted when offered. I dive deep while continuing my forward movement, locating the vermin and its exact spot above me. As I ascend I relish the thought of feeding on it, already perceiving its terror when it sees me. In anticipation, I reach out delicately to the vermin’s selfbeing, eager to sample it in advance. Instantly I halt my ascent, as a perfect idea takes shape within my selfbeing and I take time to contemplate it. The vermin is praying for success in its endeavour to something it calls Ti’i. Another one of their many made up gods – the vermin have no notion of the one and true deity. I had not realised until now how completely their imaginary gods control the daily lives of the vermin.
Thus I detach an insignificant piece of myself to make something that will be utterly desirable to the vermin, and venerated by them for eternity. I work on it quickly, recalling the final thoughts of all the vermin I have fed upon, their multitude of superstitions and desires, as I shape the object and finish by placing a thought child at its core. I take hold of a life form nearest to me, and without it even realising what is happening, insert the object inside it. I ascend slowly enough not to disturb the surface, until I reach the vermin’s collection tool, still empty, and firmly attach the life form to it. Once it is done, I spawn another thought child and send it upwards, waiting for it to embrace the vermin’s selfbeing. It doesn’t take long as this one is unusually receptive – I can readily taste it. As it pulls the life form into its craft, my thought child continues to give it further instructions.
I am aware that my deception will take a long time to develop fully, but I have patience. I am the One, after all. In joy, I dive deep into the beautiful dark, for once allowing my selfbeing to radiate freely in all directions, sharing my ecstasy with the life forms around me and relishing their silent screams.
That’s it, I thought when I woke up, as soon as the hotel is operational and under professional management I’m going to turn myself in to the nearest loony bin. If my mist hallucination hadn’t been enough, this was surely an Oscar-winning performance as far as psychotic episodes go. So now I’m no longer a whale; instead I’m some alien, supernatural creature roaming the oceans?
I could see a whole new school of thought emerging, promoted by droves of psychiatrists, psychologists and psychoanalysts prodding my mind and nodding sagely, rushing off to publish their findings in esteemed periodicals. And ensure lifelong tenures at prestigious faculties whilst enriching themselves by writing innumerable, incomprehensible books. Mandatory course material for their own lectures, of course.
No, this one must never see the light of day, I told myself. Maybe a week or so of staying away from any mind expanding substances would be beneficial. Alcohol excluded – there’s no way I could stay sane (a funny choice of words, my subconscious reminded me) without it. Not with the big event coming up tonight.
I sense one of the vermin in its puny craft, attempting to catch life forms in the water with a primitive collection tool. It is not enough to sate my hunger, but feeding is sacred and must not be omitted when offered. I dive deep while continuing my forward movement, locating the vermin and its exact spot above me. As I ascend I relish the thought of feeding on it, already perceiving its terror when it sees me. In anticipation, I reach out delicately to the vermin’s selfbeing, eager to sample it in advance. Instantly I halt my ascent, as a perfect idea takes shape within my selfbeing and I take time to contemplate it. The vermin is praying for success in its endeavour to something it calls Ti’i. Another one of their many made up gods – the vermin have no notion of the one and true deity. I had not realised until now how completely their imaginary gods control the daily lives of the vermin.
Thus I detach an insignificant piece of myself to make something that will be utterly desirable to the vermin, and venerated by them for eternity. I work on it quickly, recalling the final thoughts of all the vermin I have fed upon, their multitude of superstitions and desires, as I shape the object and finish by placing a thought child at its core. I take hold of a life form nearest to me, and without it even realising what is happening, insert the object inside it. I ascend slowly enough not to disturb the surface, until I reach the vermin’s collection tool, still empty, and firmly attach the life form to it. Once it is done, I spawn another thought child and send it upwards, waiting for it to embrace the vermin’s selfbeing. It doesn’t take long as this one is unusually receptive – I can readily taste it. As it pulls the life form into its craft, my thought child continues to give it further instructions.
I am aware that my deception will take a long time to develop fully, but I have patience. I am the One, after all. In joy, I dive deep into the beautiful dark, for once allowing my selfbeing to radiate freely in all directions, sharing my ecstasy with the life forms around me and relishing their silent screams.
That’s it, I thought when I woke up, as soon as the hotel is operational and under professional management I’m going to turn myself in to the nearest loony bin. If my mist hallucination hadn’t been enough, this was surely an Oscar-winning performance as far as psychotic episodes go. So now I’m no longer a whale; instead I’m some alien, supernatural creature roaming the oceans?
I could see a whole new school of thought emerging, promoted by droves of psychiatrists, psychologists and psychoanalysts prodding my mind and nodding sagely, rushing off to publish their findings in esteemed periodicals. And ensure lifelong tenures at prestigious faculties whilst enriching themselves by writing innumerable, incomprehensible books. Mandatory course material for their own lectures, of course.
No, this one must never see the light of day, I told myself. Maybe a week or so of staying away from any mind expanding substances would be beneficial. Alcohol excluded – there’s no way I could stay sane (a funny choice of words, my subconscious reminded me) without it. Not with the big event coming up tonight.
Chapter 58
‘BB, when I asked you to make sure you look your best, I was thinking of you guys for once showering and washing your clothes,’ I sighed in exasperation, ‘not wearing full colours and looking like you’re about to raid the fucking Satudarah club house.’
They’d lined up the bikes in front of the entrance for a group photo and would’ve been intimidating enough without the chains and parangs hanging from their belts. Even more disturbing, a few of them were posing with guns and I wasn’t happy.
‘No worry, man. You relax, the boys jus’ having good time,’ BB replied and slapped me on the back in emphasis, then looked at me seriously, ‘Also, you no want trouble tonight? We here make sure everyone have good time. Eating and drinking and honeying and fornicating.’
‘I believe that last should be “making love”, not “fornicating”, you illiterate.’
‘Ah, ’tis true, but I allow myself poetic license–’
‘Fuck your poetic license, I do not expect, nor desire, people to be fornicating here tonight, period.’
‘There, you see, you prefer also that word,’ BB pointed out triumphantly.
‘Shut up, will you. I need the party to be a success and contribute to my prosperous future here. In other words: no beating up of the guests, no joyriding in the guests’ cars, no mingling with the guests, and no drinking my booze. And definitely no fornicating anywhere on the premises tonight. Unless after the party, and only if done by me.’
‘So miss Kristina coming,’ BB smiled broadly. ‘Is good.’
‘Who are you, our relationship counsellor? Now get the bikes to the back of the house and sort out your guys. I don’t want to see a single lethal object on them, nail clippers included. And make yourselves presentable, for fuck’s sake, if that’s even humanly possible. We’ve less than an hour before everyone starts arriving.’
BB turned in silence and slouched off towards the rest of the gang, and I almost felt remorseful, wondering if I was being too harsh with him. After all, he just wanted to help out, in the only way he knew.
I called out to him, ‘I’ll make sure to set up an R&R area in the back for all of you, with enough food and drinks,’ but he didn’t reply.
I shrugged to myself and walked around the house to the kitchen entrance, to check up on the catering people. The kitchen was bustling – the two chefs busy preparing the food and scolding the minions while the serving staff, in skimpy but classy uniforms, were lined up in two rows with military precision and drilled by their supervisors. I walked through discretely as I sampled nibbles from plates already laden with hors d’oeuvres and nodded to everyone in appreciation. From there I continued to the reception and lounge, making sure that everything was in place and ready to receive the guests, waved briefly to the small group of journos and photographers huddled in one corner, nursing their beers, before I entered my genuine English pub replica. The two barmen were busy polishing glasses and greeted me cheerfully.
‘Big night, boss,’ one of them called out with a toothy smile.
‘Indeed it is, chaps,’ I replied, ‘so you want to make sure that you are ready to satisfy all requests.’
‘Yes boss, have all here. Just waiting for customers.’
‘Guests,’ I corrected him. ‘They are my very important guests. Any silly drink they want, specially the ladies, you mix with a smile, okay? And make sure you remember what they’ve ordered when they come for another one. Now, give me a large glass of Tamdhu, one ice cube only.’
I left them to it and went outside, feeling good, looking up at the moon and the odd twinkling star. We’d already had a heavy shower earlier in the afternoon and I hoped the skies would stay clear. I had a satisfying sip of the whisky and was about to go to the pool area when the distinctive roar of the Tuscan announced Kris’ arrival. I was pleased to see that she was driving with the top down, confirming my expectations of dry weather.
‘Hello darling,’ she waved at me, ‘where do I park?’
‘Welcome to my parlour, babe,’ I bowed and smiled in welcome, noticing Billy running towards us. ‘Anywhere you want to, as long as it remains visible once the other cars arrive. We want to impress tomorrow’s readers with the sexiest and rarest collection of automotive eye candy this village has ever seen. Sorry, I’m in a rush now, but once you’ve parked, come to the poolside.’
I let Billy deal with it and sauntered over to the pool. It looked fantastic, lit up with torches strategically placed around it, the plush loungers plentiful and inviting, the tables decorated with extravagant orchid arrangements and ready for the guests. I briefly remembered thrashing wildly in the muddy, stinking pit but shrugged it off as just another of my possibly psychotic episodes. Tonight, lined with a pattern of turquoise and light green tiles discretely lit from the sides and bottom, the sound of water streaming down the rocks at the far end both soothing and cheerful, the pool was perfect.
On the side, a few of the catering staff were busy getting the barbecue going. Another one of my designs, with the base and sides chiselled out of natural rock and the fire pit topped with a heavy, cast iron grid.
‘I like it,’ Kris said, hugging me from behind, ‘very much. You’ve wasted your career, you know. There’s more money in luxury hotel design than in management consulting.’
‘It’s not difficult, really,’ I said as I turned to face her. ‘You just need to think like a customer. Or a filthy rich and obnoxiously spoiled guest in this case. How about a whisky? I’ve managed to source a few bottles of Tamdhu cask strength. Both peaty and creamy. A dram for the discerning lady.’
‘Yummy.’
I took Kris’ hand and said proudly, ‘You’ve not seen my pub yet, in its full operational glory. I will expect you to be suitably awed.’
As I dragged her inside and through the lounge she took in the ambience of discrete, relaxed luxury, nodded in appreciation then stopped in her tracks as we reached the pub.
‘Oh no, you didn’t… But you can’t… They’ll never let you get away with it!’
‘The name? Already duly registered, licence applied for and processed as we speak. Initially rejected, as I expected, but when I showed up in their office with both Cambridge and Oxford dictionaries, and provided sufficient evidence of equivalent English pub name precedents going back to the Middle Ages, I got it approved on a technicality. And once the inspector got here and saw the beautifully hand painted sign, by yours truly,’ I bowed immodestly, ‘then sampled most of the whiskies on offer, he was more than happy to sign the permit. Need I say that he was Malay?’
‘You’re a cheeky monkey, aren’t you?’
‘Possibly, but also a smart and persistent one. Now let’s go get you that whisky.’
They’d lined up the bikes in front of the entrance for a group photo and would’ve been intimidating enough without the chains and parangs hanging from their belts. Even more disturbing, a few of them were posing with guns and I wasn’t happy.
‘No worry, man. You relax, the boys jus’ having good time,’ BB replied and slapped me on the back in emphasis, then looked at me seriously, ‘Also, you no want trouble tonight? We here make sure everyone have good time. Eating and drinking and honeying and fornicating.’
‘I believe that last should be “making love”, not “fornicating”, you illiterate.’
‘Ah, ’tis true, but I allow myself poetic license–’
‘Fuck your poetic license, I do not expect, nor desire, people to be fornicating here tonight, period.’
‘There, you see, you prefer also that word,’ BB pointed out triumphantly.
‘Shut up, will you. I need the party to be a success and contribute to my prosperous future here. In other words: no beating up of the guests, no joyriding in the guests’ cars, no mingling with the guests, and no drinking my booze. And definitely no fornicating anywhere on the premises tonight. Unless after the party, and only if done by me.’
‘So miss Kristina coming,’ BB smiled broadly. ‘Is good.’
‘Who are you, our relationship counsellor? Now get the bikes to the back of the house and sort out your guys. I don’t want to see a single lethal object on them, nail clippers included. And make yourselves presentable, for fuck’s sake, if that’s even humanly possible. We’ve less than an hour before everyone starts arriving.’
BB turned in silence and slouched off towards the rest of the gang, and I almost felt remorseful, wondering if I was being too harsh with him. After all, he just wanted to help out, in the only way he knew.
I called out to him, ‘I’ll make sure to set up an R&R area in the back for all of you, with enough food and drinks,’ but he didn’t reply.
I shrugged to myself and walked around the house to the kitchen entrance, to check up on the catering people. The kitchen was bustling – the two chefs busy preparing the food and scolding the minions while the serving staff, in skimpy but classy uniforms, were lined up in two rows with military precision and drilled by their supervisors. I walked through discretely as I sampled nibbles from plates already laden with hors d’oeuvres and nodded to everyone in appreciation. From there I continued to the reception and lounge, making sure that everything was in place and ready to receive the guests, waved briefly to the small group of journos and photographers huddled in one corner, nursing their beers, before I entered my genuine English pub replica. The two barmen were busy polishing glasses and greeted me cheerfully.
‘Big night, boss,’ one of them called out with a toothy smile.
‘Indeed it is, chaps,’ I replied, ‘so you want to make sure that you are ready to satisfy all requests.’
‘Yes boss, have all here. Just waiting for customers.’
‘Guests,’ I corrected him. ‘They are my very important guests. Any silly drink they want, specially the ladies, you mix with a smile, okay? And make sure you remember what they’ve ordered when they come for another one. Now, give me a large glass of Tamdhu, one ice cube only.’
I left them to it and went outside, feeling good, looking up at the moon and the odd twinkling star. We’d already had a heavy shower earlier in the afternoon and I hoped the skies would stay clear. I had a satisfying sip of the whisky and was about to go to the pool area when the distinctive roar of the Tuscan announced Kris’ arrival. I was pleased to see that she was driving with the top down, confirming my expectations of dry weather.
‘Hello darling,’ she waved at me, ‘where do I park?’
‘Welcome to my parlour, babe,’ I bowed and smiled in welcome, noticing Billy running towards us. ‘Anywhere you want to, as long as it remains visible once the other cars arrive. We want to impress tomorrow’s readers with the sexiest and rarest collection of automotive eye candy this village has ever seen. Sorry, I’m in a rush now, but once you’ve parked, come to the poolside.’
I let Billy deal with it and sauntered over to the pool. It looked fantastic, lit up with torches strategically placed around it, the plush loungers plentiful and inviting, the tables decorated with extravagant orchid arrangements and ready for the guests. I briefly remembered thrashing wildly in the muddy, stinking pit but shrugged it off as just another of my possibly psychotic episodes. Tonight, lined with a pattern of turquoise and light green tiles discretely lit from the sides and bottom, the sound of water streaming down the rocks at the far end both soothing and cheerful, the pool was perfect.
On the side, a few of the catering staff were busy getting the barbecue going. Another one of my designs, with the base and sides chiselled out of natural rock and the fire pit topped with a heavy, cast iron grid.
‘I like it,’ Kris said, hugging me from behind, ‘very much. You’ve wasted your career, you know. There’s more money in luxury hotel design than in management consulting.’
‘It’s not difficult, really,’ I said as I turned to face her. ‘You just need to think like a customer. Or a filthy rich and obnoxiously spoiled guest in this case. How about a whisky? I’ve managed to source a few bottles of Tamdhu cask strength. Both peaty and creamy. A dram for the discerning lady.’
‘Yummy.’
I took Kris’ hand and said proudly, ‘You’ve not seen my pub yet, in its full operational glory. I will expect you to be suitably awed.’
As I dragged her inside and through the lounge she took in the ambience of discrete, relaxed luxury, nodded in appreciation then stopped in her tracks as we reached the pub.
‘Oh no, you didn’t… But you can’t… They’ll never let you get away with it!’
‘The name? Already duly registered, licence applied for and processed as we speak. Initially rejected, as I expected, but when I showed up in their office with both Cambridge and Oxford dictionaries, and provided sufficient evidence of equivalent English pub name precedents going back to the Middle Ages, I got it approved on a technicality. And once the inspector got here and saw the beautifully hand painted sign, by yours truly,’ I bowed immodestly, ‘then sampled most of the whiskies on offer, he was more than happy to sign the permit. Need I say that he was Malay?’
‘You’re a cheeky monkey, aren’t you?’
‘Possibly, but also a smart and persistent one. Now let’s go get you that whisky.’
Chapter 59
Kris and I were lounging by the pool, enjoying our malts, when Billy came rushing from the driveway with BB striding behind him, still looking hurt but putting on a professional air.
‘Boss, guests are here.’
‘Darling,’ I sat up, looked at Kris and offered her my hand, ‘will you help me do the honours? Be the perfect hostess and the unchallenged talk of the town for the rest of the year? Make this the hottest party ever in KL?’
As expected, the first wave of guests consisted of second tier celebrities and minor business execs, fearful of arriving too late and missing out on having their photos taken. Staying true to the party theme, they’d all managed to get themselves transported to the house in approved exotica. Not very rare, mind you, just the usual baby Ferraris and Lambos and Porches, with the odd, classy Aston Martin. Except for one guy, supposedly the next Calvin Klein face in Asia, who proudly arrived in his Audi TT. Quite correctly, BB’s boys relegated him to one of the distant parking spots, next to the jungle and under a fruiting durian tree. The photographers were lined up, snapping away in a barrage of flashes, and I called out to them, ‘Remember, no flashes inside. And no unsolicited photos if you want to stay.’
The second wave was more fun to greet, with hotter babes and even hotter cars. My eyes were watering, as were Kris’, but for different reasons. The cars were mostly McLarens, with a couple of Koenigseggs and the odd Pagani and Bugatti (including one ancient, original EB110) making grand, noisy entrances. To begin with, Kris didn’t approve of me being friendly with the unbelievably sexy babes stepping out from the passenger side of these stunning and stunningly expensive vehicles. But once I suggested to her (still resolutely refusing to listen to the insistent, nasty voice in my head whispering that I can’t trust her) that I was happy to share any and all of the immediate party benefits with her, she mellowed considerably. From then on, while I welcomed the drivers, she lovingly assisted the babes out of the low-slung cars, guiding them towards the pub.
As the last of the expected visitors, the truly serious money makers and government influencers – meaning uncle Ho and his entourage – were not expected to arrive well after the party had started, Kris and I made our way to the pub, where most of the guests had already congregated. There, I formally announced the party open with a toast and invited everyone to freely sample the food and drinks on offer. Kris, as if by chance, had already found a place at one of the tables occupied by a handful of aspiring business moguls and their tasty female companions. I felt sorry for the guys, knowing that some of them would get very disappointed later, not getting to fuck a royal crumpet (or royally fuck a crumpet) as they expected to. Welcome to the club, I thought less than charitably.
I found a free chair at a corner table and sat down with a sigh, downed the remainder of the whisky and looked around the table. A bunch of pimply geeks discussing possible workarounds to the latest Chinese internet restrictions, drinking Coke straight from the cans. I signalled to one of the barmen to bring a bottle of Chivas and glasses. No need to give them anything expensive, this was good enough to get them sloshed; always keep the nerds happy, you never know when you may need one.
I joined the conversation without anyone of them really noticing as they went from Coke to Chivas seamlessly, probably not even aware of what they were drinking. Pretty soon they’d all advanced to arguing about the best approach to publicly embarrass the current Chinese dictator on social media worldwide. Nothing to do with me, of course, I was only picking up all the alcohol-sodden threads and discretely putting them back on the table with a few hints. One of the guys had just had a brilliant idea, comparing the hardcore commie bastard to that lovable and harmless children’s favourite, Winnie the Pooh. This being the ultimate oxymoron, I loved it. I was about to tease out more iconoclastic ideas from the geeks when I got interrupted.
‘Boss, have more guests,’ Billy shouted in my general direction. ‘Mr Ho arrive soon.’
Assuring Billy that I would deal with it, I got up and went over to the table over which Kris was presiding. The men were in awe of her, the girls all big eyed and lovey-dovey. How does she do it, I wondered.
‘Darling,’ I whispered in her ear, ‘your uncle is about to grace us with his presence and absolute wisdom. Do you want to be there and welcome him, or do you trust me with doing it on my own? Surely, by now he should know me well enough.’
‘I’m coming with you,’ Kris exclaimed as she stood up, slightly wobbly. ‘Of course I have to be there to greet him, he’s still wary of European Neanderthals like yourself. Ladies,’ she addressed the girls around the table with a wolfish smile, ‘I shall return shortly.’
She grabbed my hand to steady herself and I realised that she was more drunk that I’d ever seen her, other than our first meeting. But who was I to complain? I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d been completely sober.
As the Phantom pulled up in front of the house, I entertained unkind thoughts about Ho. With everyone invited with the proviso they arrive in supercars, he would be the only one to ignore it, feeling he was above such nonsense. Until the car doors opened and Ho’s bodyguards spilled out, then hearing the most glorious sound coming up the driveway behind the Phantom. At first I wasn’t sure what I saw. It looked like a Ferrari 250 GTO, one of the most desirable cars in the world, and certainly sounded like one, but this was a soft top which I was sure had never come out of the Maranello factory.
The Phantom was quickly moved to allow the GTO to drive up to the entrance. As the passenger door opened, with Ho slowly pulling his legs out on the driveway, Kris rushed towards him. I followed in a suitably dignified manner, arriving just after they’d concluded the profuse greetings.
‘Hello, uncle Ho,’ I said resolutely, hoping that by now he’d forgotten my faux pas at his birthday party, ‘I love the car. And I had no idea that anyone in KL would be skilled enough to attempt to replicate a classic like this, let alone make a convertible out of it. The lines are impeccable – it looks as if it’s come straight out of the Ferrari workshop. Even the engine sounds genuine.’
Ho looked at me as if I was feeble-minded, but decided I merited an explanation, ‘That is because it is genuine. I wanted one and Enzo suggested they make a spyder for me. He knew me well enough, and my preference for convertibles.’ My jaw must’ve dropped open without me realising it, as he continued, ‘Now shut your mouth, you look stupid. Go help Eunice.’
Eunice didn’t need any help as far as I could see. The door on the driver side opened and a pair of legs covered in black leggings slid out, flip-flops on the feet. I could hear mutterings about bloody cars made for Italian midgets coming from inside, then more of Eunice appeared as she leaned down to replace the flip-flops with high-heeled sandals. Turning her feet from side to side, once she was satisfied with the look she pulled herself out of the car and stretched. Nearly as tall as me, shapely and toned. Her angelic face, with barely a hint of make-up other than crimson pouting lips, was framed by short, jet-black spiky hair looking like she’d cut it herself without the aid of a mirror. The only items of jewellery were pointy studs protruding from her earlobes. As butch as they come, yet undoubtedly and thoroughly feminine.
Kris came over, Ho shuffling slowly beside her, holding on to her arm. ‘Kristina, let me introduce you to Eunice, the daughter of one of my business associates. Kristina is my dearest niece and a comfort in my late years. I am sure that you two will become the best of friends. Eunice has just moved back from Melbourne after many successful years as a heart surgeon and needs someone to guide her around town, for which you, my dear, are perfect. Now, shall we go inside?’
I coughed discretely.
‘Ah yes, this is the… host…’
‘Alex’, I said. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Eunice. You are most welcome to my home. I hope you’ll enjoy yourself tonight, and if you ever need a guide–’
‘I’m sure I’ll love your piss-up, mate,’ Eunice replied over her shoulder, taking Ho’s other arm, the three of them leaving me by the car. Looking at the girls, their butts swaying in unison, I thought that Kris, quite possibly, has met her match. Same generation, butch versus femme, both of them magnificent and irresistible in very different ways, and I almost felt sorry for the girls at the party, preyed upon by Sappho’s finest. But mainly sorry for myself, having a feeling that I’d go to bed on my own afterwards, with only Minnie for comfort.
‘Boss, guests are here.’
‘Darling,’ I sat up, looked at Kris and offered her my hand, ‘will you help me do the honours? Be the perfect hostess and the unchallenged talk of the town for the rest of the year? Make this the hottest party ever in KL?’
As expected, the first wave of guests consisted of second tier celebrities and minor business execs, fearful of arriving too late and missing out on having their photos taken. Staying true to the party theme, they’d all managed to get themselves transported to the house in approved exotica. Not very rare, mind you, just the usual baby Ferraris and Lambos and Porches, with the odd, classy Aston Martin. Except for one guy, supposedly the next Calvin Klein face in Asia, who proudly arrived in his Audi TT. Quite correctly, BB’s boys relegated him to one of the distant parking spots, next to the jungle and under a fruiting durian tree. The photographers were lined up, snapping away in a barrage of flashes, and I called out to them, ‘Remember, no flashes inside. And no unsolicited photos if you want to stay.’
The second wave was more fun to greet, with hotter babes and even hotter cars. My eyes were watering, as were Kris’, but for different reasons. The cars were mostly McLarens, with a couple of Koenigseggs and the odd Pagani and Bugatti (including one ancient, original EB110) making grand, noisy entrances. To begin with, Kris didn’t approve of me being friendly with the unbelievably sexy babes stepping out from the passenger side of these stunning and stunningly expensive vehicles. But once I suggested to her (still resolutely refusing to listen to the insistent, nasty voice in my head whispering that I can’t trust her) that I was happy to share any and all of the immediate party benefits with her, she mellowed considerably. From then on, while I welcomed the drivers, she lovingly assisted the babes out of the low-slung cars, guiding them towards the pub.
As the last of the expected visitors, the truly serious money makers and government influencers – meaning uncle Ho and his entourage – were not expected to arrive well after the party had started, Kris and I made our way to the pub, where most of the guests had already congregated. There, I formally announced the party open with a toast and invited everyone to freely sample the food and drinks on offer. Kris, as if by chance, had already found a place at one of the tables occupied by a handful of aspiring business moguls and their tasty female companions. I felt sorry for the guys, knowing that some of them would get very disappointed later, not getting to fuck a royal crumpet (or royally fuck a crumpet) as they expected to. Welcome to the club, I thought less than charitably.
I found a free chair at a corner table and sat down with a sigh, downed the remainder of the whisky and looked around the table. A bunch of pimply geeks discussing possible workarounds to the latest Chinese internet restrictions, drinking Coke straight from the cans. I signalled to one of the barmen to bring a bottle of Chivas and glasses. No need to give them anything expensive, this was good enough to get them sloshed; always keep the nerds happy, you never know when you may need one.
I joined the conversation without anyone of them really noticing as they went from Coke to Chivas seamlessly, probably not even aware of what they were drinking. Pretty soon they’d all advanced to arguing about the best approach to publicly embarrass the current Chinese dictator on social media worldwide. Nothing to do with me, of course, I was only picking up all the alcohol-sodden threads and discretely putting them back on the table with a few hints. One of the guys had just had a brilliant idea, comparing the hardcore commie bastard to that lovable and harmless children’s favourite, Winnie the Pooh. This being the ultimate oxymoron, I loved it. I was about to tease out more iconoclastic ideas from the geeks when I got interrupted.
‘Boss, have more guests,’ Billy shouted in my general direction. ‘Mr Ho arrive soon.’
Assuring Billy that I would deal with it, I got up and went over to the table over which Kris was presiding. The men were in awe of her, the girls all big eyed and lovey-dovey. How does she do it, I wondered.
‘Darling,’ I whispered in her ear, ‘your uncle is about to grace us with his presence and absolute wisdom. Do you want to be there and welcome him, or do you trust me with doing it on my own? Surely, by now he should know me well enough.’
‘I’m coming with you,’ Kris exclaimed as she stood up, slightly wobbly. ‘Of course I have to be there to greet him, he’s still wary of European Neanderthals like yourself. Ladies,’ she addressed the girls around the table with a wolfish smile, ‘I shall return shortly.’
She grabbed my hand to steady herself and I realised that she was more drunk that I’d ever seen her, other than our first meeting. But who was I to complain? I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d been completely sober.
As the Phantom pulled up in front of the house, I entertained unkind thoughts about Ho. With everyone invited with the proviso they arrive in supercars, he would be the only one to ignore it, feeling he was above such nonsense. Until the car doors opened and Ho’s bodyguards spilled out, then hearing the most glorious sound coming up the driveway behind the Phantom. At first I wasn’t sure what I saw. It looked like a Ferrari 250 GTO, one of the most desirable cars in the world, and certainly sounded like one, but this was a soft top which I was sure had never come out of the Maranello factory.
The Phantom was quickly moved to allow the GTO to drive up to the entrance. As the passenger door opened, with Ho slowly pulling his legs out on the driveway, Kris rushed towards him. I followed in a suitably dignified manner, arriving just after they’d concluded the profuse greetings.
‘Hello, uncle Ho,’ I said resolutely, hoping that by now he’d forgotten my faux pas at his birthday party, ‘I love the car. And I had no idea that anyone in KL would be skilled enough to attempt to replicate a classic like this, let alone make a convertible out of it. The lines are impeccable – it looks as if it’s come straight out of the Ferrari workshop. Even the engine sounds genuine.’
Ho looked at me as if I was feeble-minded, but decided I merited an explanation, ‘That is because it is genuine. I wanted one and Enzo suggested they make a spyder for me. He knew me well enough, and my preference for convertibles.’ My jaw must’ve dropped open without me realising it, as he continued, ‘Now shut your mouth, you look stupid. Go help Eunice.’
Eunice didn’t need any help as far as I could see. The door on the driver side opened and a pair of legs covered in black leggings slid out, flip-flops on the feet. I could hear mutterings about bloody cars made for Italian midgets coming from inside, then more of Eunice appeared as she leaned down to replace the flip-flops with high-heeled sandals. Turning her feet from side to side, once she was satisfied with the look she pulled herself out of the car and stretched. Nearly as tall as me, shapely and toned. Her angelic face, with barely a hint of make-up other than crimson pouting lips, was framed by short, jet-black spiky hair looking like she’d cut it herself without the aid of a mirror. The only items of jewellery were pointy studs protruding from her earlobes. As butch as they come, yet undoubtedly and thoroughly feminine.
Kris came over, Ho shuffling slowly beside her, holding on to her arm. ‘Kristina, let me introduce you to Eunice, the daughter of one of my business associates. Kristina is my dearest niece and a comfort in my late years. I am sure that you two will become the best of friends. Eunice has just moved back from Melbourne after many successful years as a heart surgeon and needs someone to guide her around town, for which you, my dear, are perfect. Now, shall we go inside?’
I coughed discretely.
‘Ah yes, this is the… host…’
‘Alex’, I said. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Eunice. You are most welcome to my home. I hope you’ll enjoy yourself tonight, and if you ever need a guide–’
‘I’m sure I’ll love your piss-up, mate,’ Eunice replied over her shoulder, taking Ho’s other arm, the three of them leaving me by the car. Looking at the girls, their butts swaying in unison, I thought that Kris, quite possibly, has met her match. Same generation, butch versus femme, both of them magnificent and irresistible in very different ways, and I almost felt sorry for the girls at the party, preyed upon by Sappho’s finest. But mainly sorry for myself, having a feeling that I’d go to bed on my own afterwards, with only Minnie for comfort.
Chapter 60
‘Now here’s one that will blow your mind,’ I said while opening another bottle. ‘I love it even more than the Glen Garioch you’ve just tasted.’
Ho and I were at a table of our own in the pub, hurriedly emptied by a small group of Bursa Malaysia hotshots as they saw Ho and me approaching, clearly deferring to the old geezer. I’d decided to have another go at befriending the grumpy bastard. Well, at least to get him off my back and prove that I was civilised enough for his niece even though I was a European heathen. I’d lined up the best of my single malts on the table, including one of my three bottles of 21 year old Edradour for the finale.
Not for the first time, European guts proved to be less susceptible to alcohol than their Asian counterparts. The titbits served by the catering girls, as tasty as they were, were not quite fatty enough to counter the alcohol intake. For that, you’d have to be in the Balkans, where people know how to match booze with the right greasy food and manage to stay upright most of the night.
‘Is fucking good, this one,’ Ho said appreciatively, wobbling on his chair.
‘Almost as good as fucking,’ I replied. ‘Isn’t it?’
‘At my age, better. But not quite the same,’ Ho smirked, ‘as pushing the GTO to its limits around Bukit Tunku roads, sliding across the tarmac in every curve. Tiggy hated it when I did that. He preferred to be chauffeured in his Bentley, sitting in the back and getting drunk.’
This sobered me instantly.
‘Tiggy? As in Tigran? You actually knew the guy?’
‘Of course I did,’ Ho was thoroughly drunk by now and enjoying it, ‘the two of us and the sultan were inseparable when we were young.’
‘Tigran Ng? We’re talking about the same guy? The bugger that I happened to dream about once, with Kris getting all wet about it and risking our lives ever since?’
‘Ah, Kristina, she ask me all about him. Every detail.’
The devious bitch. Sharing partial information with me, claiming it had come from third party sources, never letting on that she got it all from uncle fucking Ho. Leading me on, the bloody schemer. I glanced at the table where she was holding court with Eunice. Sitting opposite each other, as if sparring, they were entertaining a small group of girls, plying them with fancy looking cocktails. Whether actual girlfriends of some of the guests, or just hired for the evening, the girls were mesmerised by the duo. Eyes wide open, mouths in a perpetual state of surprise and delight – I sympathised with the guys that had brought them.
‘And you told her everything? You actually know about the artefact?’
‘Of course I do. Tiggy was very thorough when researching something he was interested in. And this one obsessed him.’
I poured Ho another triple measure, waited for him to continue.
‘Oh yes, he knew more about that token than anyone else, he spent years learning everything he could about it. Discovering its true purpose and value. Forget the gold. Pah, barely a kilogram of it. And the crude carving on it, you know what Tiggy had found out? Nothing to do with the sun, as it was proposed by some stupid researcher.’ Ho leaned forward conspiratorially and beckoned me with his finger, barely managing to stay on the chair, ‘The anti-sun, such bullshit. Only because of a circle with rays pointing inwards. If anything, Tiggy said, it should be called the hungry sun, ha, ha. Because it’s no sun. Is a big mouth, always hungry.’
I shuddered, recalling the monstrosity on the burning Japanese ship opening its mouth, and the total darkness and horror within. But that was only a nightmare. Wasn’t it?
‘So, apart from the gold – which I can understand most of us would be very interested in, why is it so desirable? If those few dreams that I’ve had about it are true, it always ends in misery. Anyway,’ I said firmly, ‘I don’t believe in any juju shit. I’ll accept that an object can be used to whip up the unwashed masses. I’m sure there are enough pieces available of the cross a fictitious Jesus died on to make another Golden Gate bridge, but that’s all about faith. Not science. No hardcore facts that you can replicate in a controlled experiment. No proof.’
‘You Europeans, so full of certainty,’ Ho shook his head. ‘Always wanting proof. Insisting that you have to touch the divine before you allow yourselves to believe in it. That’s why you’ve always had wars there. With everyone losing.’
‘And you think you’ve been better off here in Asia? Having lived in mud huts and clobbered each other to death with wooden clubs? It’s human nature – we’re all animals, as much as we hate to admit it. It’s all about getting the best piece of meat, or prime land, or a revered position. Or having the most suitable female giving birth to your offspring. So don’t go all Zen on me, I don’t buy it.’
‘Exactly,’ Ho replied, nodding in appreciation, ‘so you do understand what is important. Live or die. Eat or be eaten. Rule or be ruled. Kristina recognised this early, although she still needs occasional guidance.’
‘And how exactly would this artefact enhance mankind?’ I asked.
‘Of course it doesn’t. It enhances leadership, which is good enough for strong men. It gives you absolute power. But it comes at a price.’
‘So why have you encouraged her to go look for it?’
‘I most certainly have not,’ Ho responded, looking at me seriously. ‘I told her to forget about the token; it would only bring her unhappiness. She is too young and innocent for it. And better off without it.’
‘But she’s dead keen on finding this thing. While she insists that it’s all about me, helping me to get rid of my nightmares.’
‘I think,’ Ho leaned towards me, ‘you should stay away from Kristina. You’re no good for each other. Go back to Europe, let a professional run your hotel. Or you will die in KL. You have a potential money-maker here, make you rich one day, eh, don’t spoil it now. Live to tell your grandchildren about it.’
Perfectly sober by now, I did my best to appear unfazed, letting it all sink in while having a serious internal debate about my relationship with Kris. And our serendipitous first meeting in Hard Rock Cafe. Was BB in on it too, from the start? I felt thoroughly fucked, on so many levels, a gullible whitey in Asia. Ho leaned back in his chair, relaxed and smiling, reminding me that I was only an interloper in this part of the world. Then he dropped the bomb.
‘You like this house? You’ve done a good job here, I never thought of making it commercial. I had it built for wife number one, but she hated it. Too many monkeys in the trees. Too much jungle, she said.’
‘Your house?’ I asked incredulously. ‘This used to be your fucking house?’
‘I never lived in it, of course, not after the wife rejected it. But it was a very good, long-term investment. Like all my properties in Bukit Tunku.’
‘But I bought it from a woman whose husband had died some twenty years ago! The poor widow was very happy with me paying nearly what she was asking for it. And I also agreed to include the annual fees for her retirement home. I felt sorry for the bloody woman.’
‘She is still very thankful to you, I can reassure you,’ Ho nodded, ‘for continuing to support her lifestyle. Madam Peng will always remember you fondly. She regularly sends me postcards from her annual Caribbean cruises. Another eight years of those, if I’m not mistaken.’
‘I’m paying for her fucking cruises?’
‘So much better than being bored in a retirement home, don’t you agree?’
‘In other words, the two of you have screwed me with the house.’
‘Are you not happy with your purchase? Is it not in a prime location, even for Bukit Tunku? If you follow my advice you will get your investment back many times over. And live to enjoy the profits. We all got a good deal out of it.’
I was speechless. The old man was right, of course. The amount I paid for the house had been well within my budget. I may resent the fact that I’d been suckered, but that’s a fact of life everywhere in the world. A gullible foreigner will always be exploited. I filled up our glasses and was about to toast Ho, thanking him for another Asian lesson learned, when Billy came over, looking troubled.
‘Boss, that gangster from Macau here. But he not on guest list.’
‘Don’t worry, Billy, I’ll deal with it.’ I got up. ‘Sorry, Ho, I’ve got to go.’
Ho and I were at a table of our own in the pub, hurriedly emptied by a small group of Bursa Malaysia hotshots as they saw Ho and me approaching, clearly deferring to the old geezer. I’d decided to have another go at befriending the grumpy bastard. Well, at least to get him off my back and prove that I was civilised enough for his niece even though I was a European heathen. I’d lined up the best of my single malts on the table, including one of my three bottles of 21 year old Edradour for the finale.
Not for the first time, European guts proved to be less susceptible to alcohol than their Asian counterparts. The titbits served by the catering girls, as tasty as they were, were not quite fatty enough to counter the alcohol intake. For that, you’d have to be in the Balkans, where people know how to match booze with the right greasy food and manage to stay upright most of the night.
‘Is fucking good, this one,’ Ho said appreciatively, wobbling on his chair.
‘Almost as good as fucking,’ I replied. ‘Isn’t it?’
‘At my age, better. But not quite the same,’ Ho smirked, ‘as pushing the GTO to its limits around Bukit Tunku roads, sliding across the tarmac in every curve. Tiggy hated it when I did that. He preferred to be chauffeured in his Bentley, sitting in the back and getting drunk.’
This sobered me instantly.
‘Tiggy? As in Tigran? You actually knew the guy?’
‘Of course I did,’ Ho was thoroughly drunk by now and enjoying it, ‘the two of us and the sultan were inseparable when we were young.’
‘Tigran Ng? We’re talking about the same guy? The bugger that I happened to dream about once, with Kris getting all wet about it and risking our lives ever since?’
‘Ah, Kristina, she ask me all about him. Every detail.’
The devious bitch. Sharing partial information with me, claiming it had come from third party sources, never letting on that she got it all from uncle fucking Ho. Leading me on, the bloody schemer. I glanced at the table where she was holding court with Eunice. Sitting opposite each other, as if sparring, they were entertaining a small group of girls, plying them with fancy looking cocktails. Whether actual girlfriends of some of the guests, or just hired for the evening, the girls were mesmerised by the duo. Eyes wide open, mouths in a perpetual state of surprise and delight – I sympathised with the guys that had brought them.
‘And you told her everything? You actually know about the artefact?’
‘Of course I do. Tiggy was very thorough when researching something he was interested in. And this one obsessed him.’
I poured Ho another triple measure, waited for him to continue.
‘Oh yes, he knew more about that token than anyone else, he spent years learning everything he could about it. Discovering its true purpose and value. Forget the gold. Pah, barely a kilogram of it. And the crude carving on it, you know what Tiggy had found out? Nothing to do with the sun, as it was proposed by some stupid researcher.’ Ho leaned forward conspiratorially and beckoned me with his finger, barely managing to stay on the chair, ‘The anti-sun, such bullshit. Only because of a circle with rays pointing inwards. If anything, Tiggy said, it should be called the hungry sun, ha, ha. Because it’s no sun. Is a big mouth, always hungry.’
I shuddered, recalling the monstrosity on the burning Japanese ship opening its mouth, and the total darkness and horror within. But that was only a nightmare. Wasn’t it?
‘So, apart from the gold – which I can understand most of us would be very interested in, why is it so desirable? If those few dreams that I’ve had about it are true, it always ends in misery. Anyway,’ I said firmly, ‘I don’t believe in any juju shit. I’ll accept that an object can be used to whip up the unwashed masses. I’m sure there are enough pieces available of the cross a fictitious Jesus died on to make another Golden Gate bridge, but that’s all about faith. Not science. No hardcore facts that you can replicate in a controlled experiment. No proof.’
‘You Europeans, so full of certainty,’ Ho shook his head. ‘Always wanting proof. Insisting that you have to touch the divine before you allow yourselves to believe in it. That’s why you’ve always had wars there. With everyone losing.’
‘And you think you’ve been better off here in Asia? Having lived in mud huts and clobbered each other to death with wooden clubs? It’s human nature – we’re all animals, as much as we hate to admit it. It’s all about getting the best piece of meat, or prime land, or a revered position. Or having the most suitable female giving birth to your offspring. So don’t go all Zen on me, I don’t buy it.’
‘Exactly,’ Ho replied, nodding in appreciation, ‘so you do understand what is important. Live or die. Eat or be eaten. Rule or be ruled. Kristina recognised this early, although she still needs occasional guidance.’
‘And how exactly would this artefact enhance mankind?’ I asked.
‘Of course it doesn’t. It enhances leadership, which is good enough for strong men. It gives you absolute power. But it comes at a price.’
‘So why have you encouraged her to go look for it?’
‘I most certainly have not,’ Ho responded, looking at me seriously. ‘I told her to forget about the token; it would only bring her unhappiness. She is too young and innocent for it. And better off without it.’
‘But she’s dead keen on finding this thing. While she insists that it’s all about me, helping me to get rid of my nightmares.’
‘I think,’ Ho leaned towards me, ‘you should stay away from Kristina. You’re no good for each other. Go back to Europe, let a professional run your hotel. Or you will die in KL. You have a potential money-maker here, make you rich one day, eh, don’t spoil it now. Live to tell your grandchildren about it.’
Perfectly sober by now, I did my best to appear unfazed, letting it all sink in while having a serious internal debate about my relationship with Kris. And our serendipitous first meeting in Hard Rock Cafe. Was BB in on it too, from the start? I felt thoroughly fucked, on so many levels, a gullible whitey in Asia. Ho leaned back in his chair, relaxed and smiling, reminding me that I was only an interloper in this part of the world. Then he dropped the bomb.
‘You like this house? You’ve done a good job here, I never thought of making it commercial. I had it built for wife number one, but she hated it. Too many monkeys in the trees. Too much jungle, she said.’
‘Your house?’ I asked incredulously. ‘This used to be your fucking house?’
‘I never lived in it, of course, not after the wife rejected it. But it was a very good, long-term investment. Like all my properties in Bukit Tunku.’
‘But I bought it from a woman whose husband had died some twenty years ago! The poor widow was very happy with me paying nearly what she was asking for it. And I also agreed to include the annual fees for her retirement home. I felt sorry for the bloody woman.’
‘She is still very thankful to you, I can reassure you,’ Ho nodded, ‘for continuing to support her lifestyle. Madam Peng will always remember you fondly. She regularly sends me postcards from her annual Caribbean cruises. Another eight years of those, if I’m not mistaken.’
‘I’m paying for her fucking cruises?’
‘So much better than being bored in a retirement home, don’t you agree?’
‘In other words, the two of you have screwed me with the house.’
‘Are you not happy with your purchase? Is it not in a prime location, even for Bukit Tunku? If you follow my advice you will get your investment back many times over. And live to enjoy the profits. We all got a good deal out of it.’
I was speechless. The old man was right, of course. The amount I paid for the house had been well within my budget. I may resent the fact that I’d been suckered, but that’s a fact of life everywhere in the world. A gullible foreigner will always be exploited. I filled up our glasses and was about to toast Ho, thanking him for another Asian lesson learned, when Billy came over, looking troubled.
‘Boss, that gangster from Macau here. But he not on guest list.’
‘Don’t worry, Billy, I’ll deal with it.’ I got up. ‘Sorry, Ho, I’ve got to go.’
●
Danny wasn’t on the list because I’d only decided to invite him the day before and I hadn’t told Kris and BB about it. I wanted to show him that I really was a hotelier, not a treasure hunter. And maybe also get some of his mates, or even better – some of his father’s mates, to stay in the best little hotel in KL. I’d already envisioned organising luxury coaches, with hostesses and unlimited booze, shuttling between the hotel and the Genting Highlands casino. I’ve not mentioned the casino before, have I? Perched on a hill northeast of KL, with a climate cool enough to require a sweater in the evening, it’s the only casino in a Muslim country, anywhere in the world. As expected, it attracts not only the local bigwig Malays but also droves of Arabs who go there to gamble, get pissed and fuck an army of resident Vietnamese hookers.
‘Hello Danny, welcome to the party,’ I said, putting on my best host smile.
‘If you’d given me enough time I would’ve shipped over my GT40 for this,’ he said, sulking.
‘I’m sure that you’ve found a more than acceptable substitute. And now that you’re here,’ I said expansively, ‘do enjoy yourself. The pool is open all night,’ I added, ‘if you feel the need to cool off.’
‘Hello Danny, welcome to the party,’ I said, putting on my best host smile.
‘If you’d given me enough time I would’ve shipped over my GT40 for this,’ he said, sulking.
‘I’m sure that you’ve found a more than acceptable substitute. And now that you’re here,’ I said expansively, ‘do enjoy yourself. The pool is open all night,’ I added, ‘if you feel the need to cool off.’
Chapter 61
It was well after midnight and the party was getting rowdy. Most of the younger guests had moved out to the pool area and several of the girls were in the pool, in tiny underwear, drunk and giggling and splashing each other while being cheered on by their boyfriends. Or quite possibly sad blokes that had a commercial agreement with them – it was impossible to tell the difference. Some of BB’s guys, hanging out in the shadows and watching the improvised show, were itching to get their greasy jeans and t-shirts off and join the fun. I managed to hold them off, promising them a late night swim with female stragglers; I was sure there would be few of those.
Having a last look at two of the girls, their inhibitions gone together with their bras, I made my way to the pub, wondering fleetingly where Kris had gone. Ho was still at the table where I’d left him, thoroughly drunk and cursing his bodyguards as they tried to coax him up from the chair he’d been happily sleeping on. One of the tables was still occupied by the IT geeks, now debating the vulnerability of blockchains to targeted attacks, whatever that was. Kris, however, was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Eunice. As if I cared. I picked up a barely started bottle of Tamdhu, for a nightcap or two, and told the bartenders to close the place once everyone was out.
In the reception, the journos and photographers were still sitting at their allocated table, taking snapshots of each other, as drunk as the guests. And blissfully unaware of the shenanigans in and around the pool.
‘Guys, I think this is where we call it a night. You’ve had enough shots and copy to last you months.’
I didn’t mind them hanging out there but I was being prudent. Preventive maintenance, if you will. If shit happens at parties, it’s usually towards the end, and the last thing I needed was bad publicity for a hotel that wasn’t even open yet. I escorted them outside, in time to see Ho being deposited gently on the back seat of the Bentley, assisted by a couple of BB’s boys.
The GTO was still in front of the entrance, unattended, which made me wonder if Eunice the dyke was still on the premises. I peeked inside the car and toyed with the idea to take it out for a quick spin, then thought better of it. Nothing to do with me being less than sober – drunk driving is a national sport here. But a car like this has to be driven to its limits, not pussyfooted around bends. Thus not a good idea at night, not here, risking an unlucky meeting with a fully grown python or monitor lizard, either of these substantial enough to lose control of the car and plunge down a ravine.
Nearly half of the cars were still there, more than I’d hoped for at this late hour. I saw the Tuscan, meaning that Kris hadn’t left yet. She’s probably in the kitchen with BB, having a shot contest, I thought. Fat chance, buster, you know very well what she’s doing right now, the voice in my head reminded me. Fuck that, I replied, I don’t care, it’s been a good night for my future business, very productive. Oh yes, definitely productive… for her, the voice snickered. I ignored it and walked back inside, thinking of what Ho had said earlier. Leadership and power – I’d certainly relished being in control while I was a consultant. But that was all about managing projects. I’d never been interested in power for its own sake, only as a means to accomplish something.
Maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe having power, absolute power, would be sweet. Making my hotel the hottest, most desirable lodgings in Southeast Asia. Getting rave reviews on the most exclusive travel websites. Having filthy rich clients fight for the last few rooms available. Expanding throughout the region, then the world, creating an empire and giving everyone the finger. Showing Kris that you don’t have to have money to make money, if you’re smart enough. And think big enough. Fuck Kris, wherever she was, I didn’t need her. If anything, she was a fucking hindrance, the dyke bitch.
Having a last look at two of the girls, their inhibitions gone together with their bras, I made my way to the pub, wondering fleetingly where Kris had gone. Ho was still at the table where I’d left him, thoroughly drunk and cursing his bodyguards as they tried to coax him up from the chair he’d been happily sleeping on. One of the tables was still occupied by the IT geeks, now debating the vulnerability of blockchains to targeted attacks, whatever that was. Kris, however, was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Eunice. As if I cared. I picked up a barely started bottle of Tamdhu, for a nightcap or two, and told the bartenders to close the place once everyone was out.
In the reception, the journos and photographers were still sitting at their allocated table, taking snapshots of each other, as drunk as the guests. And blissfully unaware of the shenanigans in and around the pool.
‘Guys, I think this is where we call it a night. You’ve had enough shots and copy to last you months.’
I didn’t mind them hanging out there but I was being prudent. Preventive maintenance, if you will. If shit happens at parties, it’s usually towards the end, and the last thing I needed was bad publicity for a hotel that wasn’t even open yet. I escorted them outside, in time to see Ho being deposited gently on the back seat of the Bentley, assisted by a couple of BB’s boys.
The GTO was still in front of the entrance, unattended, which made me wonder if Eunice the dyke was still on the premises. I peeked inside the car and toyed with the idea to take it out for a quick spin, then thought better of it. Nothing to do with me being less than sober – drunk driving is a national sport here. But a car like this has to be driven to its limits, not pussyfooted around bends. Thus not a good idea at night, not here, risking an unlucky meeting with a fully grown python or monitor lizard, either of these substantial enough to lose control of the car and plunge down a ravine.
Nearly half of the cars were still there, more than I’d hoped for at this late hour. I saw the Tuscan, meaning that Kris hadn’t left yet. She’s probably in the kitchen with BB, having a shot contest, I thought. Fat chance, buster, you know very well what she’s doing right now, the voice in my head reminded me. Fuck that, I replied, I don’t care, it’s been a good night for my future business, very productive. Oh yes, definitely productive… for her, the voice snickered. I ignored it and walked back inside, thinking of what Ho had said earlier. Leadership and power – I’d certainly relished being in control while I was a consultant. But that was all about managing projects. I’d never been interested in power for its own sake, only as a means to accomplish something.
Maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe having power, absolute power, would be sweet. Making my hotel the hottest, most desirable lodgings in Southeast Asia. Getting rave reviews on the most exclusive travel websites. Having filthy rich clients fight for the last few rooms available. Expanding throughout the region, then the world, creating an empire and giving everyone the finger. Showing Kris that you don’t have to have money to make money, if you’re smart enough. And think big enough. Fuck Kris, wherever she was, I didn’t need her. If anything, she was a fucking hindrance, the dyke bitch.
●
‘Hey man, you okay?’ BB looked concerned. ‘Everything fine?’
I gave him a full broadside of a smile, ‘It’s all hunky dory, couldn’t be better. The place is already a success even before it’s formally open. The best of the best in this shitty town are already fucking their brains out by the pool, or they’re having the puke of the year in the bushes. Can’t get better than that. Oh, speaking of which, you’ve not allowed anyone upstairs, have you?’
‘Only when you invited your special guests to see the bedrooms. And I personally made sure that all of the guests came down afterwards.’
‘So where the fuck is Kris? And the other lesbian? Not that I care about their well-being. Just want to know where the fuck they are.’
‘Ah man, not upstairs. I’ve had my lieutenant guard the stairs all night. Hard work, so I give him some beers. No one upstairs, I promise.’
A stocky guy in a shiny black suit, with dreadlocks and a face reminding me of the Predator, leaned across the table and muttered something to BB.
‘Sorry, someone upstairs. But only one room. The Macau dude and the Calvin Klein boy. Is okay, no trouble,’ BB grinned and spread his arms expansively around the table, ‘we and his people best friends now. After all, friendship is constant in all things, is it not? Being what we are?’
I ignored BB’s rant. ‘And which room are they in?’
‘Number seven, I think.’
‘No problem,’ I nodded in acceptance, ‘as long as Danny is aware that there won’t be any breakfast served. Other than that, any other issues I should know about before I go to bed? And have a good, uninterrupted night of sleep, without worries.’
‘Sure, man. Everything under control.’
‘Just see to it that everyone leaves in an orderly fashion. To begin with, Danny’s gorillas. I don’t want them in the house. If they want to, they can sleep in the car. Anyone starts a fight, you drag them out of here and deposit them on the road. But gently, know what I mean?’
BB nodded.
‘And make sure they don’t come back. Tell them they can pick up their cars once they’ve sobered up.’
‘My boys can drive them home, no problem.’
‘Not in those cars, they won’t,’ I shook my head emphatically. ‘Certainly not on a bike. I don’t want a lawsuit for crashing a million dollar car, or having a drunken idiot falling off a bike and getting the police involved. Call them a taxi or Grab, just make sure they’re on their way safely. Got it?’
‘Sure, man.’
‘Once all the guests have buggered off you’re free to go, after you make sure the pub is empty and locked. I doubt there’s any need for guard duty, but if any of you want to stay, you’re welcome. The sofas in the reception are comfy enough – but no dirty boots on them. Any food and drinks left in the kitchen – feel free to finish it. Oh, and, BB,’ I added sheepishly, ‘sorry for being an arsehole before. You’re a good guy and I’m honoured to call you my friend.’
‘Is okay, man, you stress. This place, and miss Kristina, is tough. But remember, to fear the worst oft cures the worst,’ BB nodded.
‘Thanks, BB. I’ll bear that in mind tonight,’ I tried to recall a suitable riposte, ‘as my little life is rounded with a sleep. Now, let me get a glass and a saucer before I retire.’
I gave him a full broadside of a smile, ‘It’s all hunky dory, couldn’t be better. The place is already a success even before it’s formally open. The best of the best in this shitty town are already fucking their brains out by the pool, or they’re having the puke of the year in the bushes. Can’t get better than that. Oh, speaking of which, you’ve not allowed anyone upstairs, have you?’
‘Only when you invited your special guests to see the bedrooms. And I personally made sure that all of the guests came down afterwards.’
‘So where the fuck is Kris? And the other lesbian? Not that I care about their well-being. Just want to know where the fuck they are.’
‘Ah man, not upstairs. I’ve had my lieutenant guard the stairs all night. Hard work, so I give him some beers. No one upstairs, I promise.’
A stocky guy in a shiny black suit, with dreadlocks and a face reminding me of the Predator, leaned across the table and muttered something to BB.
‘Sorry, someone upstairs. But only one room. The Macau dude and the Calvin Klein boy. Is okay, no trouble,’ BB grinned and spread his arms expansively around the table, ‘we and his people best friends now. After all, friendship is constant in all things, is it not? Being what we are?’
I ignored BB’s rant. ‘And which room are they in?’
‘Number seven, I think.’
‘No problem,’ I nodded in acceptance, ‘as long as Danny is aware that there won’t be any breakfast served. Other than that, any other issues I should know about before I go to bed? And have a good, uninterrupted night of sleep, without worries.’
‘Sure, man. Everything under control.’
‘Just see to it that everyone leaves in an orderly fashion. To begin with, Danny’s gorillas. I don’t want them in the house. If they want to, they can sleep in the car. Anyone starts a fight, you drag them out of here and deposit them on the road. But gently, know what I mean?’
BB nodded.
‘And make sure they don’t come back. Tell them they can pick up their cars once they’ve sobered up.’
‘My boys can drive them home, no problem.’
‘Not in those cars, they won’t,’ I shook my head emphatically. ‘Certainly not on a bike. I don’t want a lawsuit for crashing a million dollar car, or having a drunken idiot falling off a bike and getting the police involved. Call them a taxi or Grab, just make sure they’re on their way safely. Got it?’
‘Sure, man.’
‘Once all the guests have buggered off you’re free to go, after you make sure the pub is empty and locked. I doubt there’s any need for guard duty, but if any of you want to stay, you’re welcome. The sofas in the reception are comfy enough – but no dirty boots on them. Any food and drinks left in the kitchen – feel free to finish it. Oh, and, BB,’ I added sheepishly, ‘sorry for being an arsehole before. You’re a good guy and I’m honoured to call you my friend.’
‘Is okay, man, you stress. This place, and miss Kristina, is tough. But remember, to fear the worst oft cures the worst,’ BB nodded.
‘Thanks, BB. I’ll bear that in mind tonight,’ I tried to recall a suitable riposte, ‘as my little life is rounded with a sleep. Now, let me get a glass and a saucer before I retire.’
●
Have you ever had the misfortune to stay in a Moscow hotel in the bad old days, every floor with its own babushka? A grumpy old woman sitting behind a worn desk day and night, purportedly there to assist the guests. Watching you disapprovingly, peering over her government issue glasses, one hand hovering over the phone, as you tottered to your room after a vodka-soaked night with a hooker even more drunk than you. They were all on KGB payroll, the babushkas, their only purpose in life to report back any real or imaginary enemy-of-the-state activity, the only assistance provided by them a one way trip to Lubyanka in the back of a black Volga. Unless they thought you merited a fully armoured ZIL, in which case you were thoroughly fucked.
The guard on duty, far from being an observant babushka, had decided there was no longer any need for his services. Soundly asleep at the top of the stairs, with nearly a dozen empty beer cans next to him. I let him be. The corridor was in semi-darkness, with just the night lights on, and silent. Whatever Danny and his newfound friend were up to in number seven, they were being quiet, which I approved of. To each his own, I thought, any way you want to spend your night is fine with me as long as you don’t disturb my sleep.
Minnie was waiting outside my bedroom. Good thinking on my part, bringing a saucer with me – as much as I loved her, I didn’t want to share my glass with her. Being a rat, even if she was my rat, who could know where she’d been eating. Or what.
‘Hey girl, ready for a nightcap? You must be as tired of the party as I am. And fed up with all the pretentious, drunken bastards and their bimbos.’
She squeaked in agreement and scratched the door.
‘Shh! Not so loud,’ I admonished her. ‘We don’t want the dudes in number seven to discover there’s a rat in the hotel. It would be bad for our TripAdvisor ratings.’
Which got me thinking that it would be a good idea, after all, to make sure the other rooms were empty, considering the less than reliable guard. I opened the door and let Minnie in, then poured us a sizeable shot each.
‘You stay here while I check out the rooms, okay?’
She ignored me and focused on the whisky. Me, making an alcoholic out of a rat? Absolutely not, Minnie was a natural.
I went back to the other end of the corridor and started with room number one. I’d had all doors replaced with heavy, perfect fit period replicas, complying with fire regulations and at the same time assuring guests of soundproofing and maximum privacy. As I couldn’t check for a thin strip of light visible under the door, nor listen for any sound coming from within, I opened the door slightly, then pushed it wide open and looked inside. Empty. I made my way down the corridor, confirming that each room was unoccupied and, as I came to number seven, I was tempted for a second to open the door and act surprised, just for the hell of it. Then I reconsidered and continued – I may behave childishly but I’m not infantile, you know.
I got to my room without finding any unexpected squatters, finally looked at the honeymoon suite across the hall. Surely, anyone desperate enough for a quick fuck would use one of the rooms closer to the stairs? And not be choosy enough to go for the suite? I’d not even included it in my guided tour earlier as there was no one in the group looking like they were planning a wedding. As far as I was aware, none of the guests even knew there was a honeymoon suite in the house. Kris knows, the voice chuckled quietly. You may want to check it out, just in case.
I opened the door slowly and peeked in. The living room was dark, as I’d hoped. But there was light coming from the bedroom, and muffled sounds. Told you so, didn’t I, the voice taunted me. Now go in and catch her, it whispered, in flagrante delicto. Get it over with – you know you want to.
I tiptoed through the hall, crossed the living room, and looked through the open bedroom door. In different circumstances, I would’ve happily walked in and joined the party as the one and only male participant bearing gifts. Instead, the only thing I could think of was that my hotel, without me ever planning it, was on its way to become the premier rainbow, LGBT-whatever lodging in Southeast Asia. I noted at least half a dozen empty bottles of my best champagne, but no glasses. Philistines.
‘Hi, Kris. Having a good time, I presume?’
She was reclining in one of the easy chairs, legs and arms out, eyes closed. She could’ve been asleep, if it hadn’t been for the girl on top of her, frantically humping a thigh and squeezing her tits, both of them until now blissfully unaware of my presence. On the oversized honeymoon bed, Eunice was equally busy, performing impressive acrobatics with two more girls.
‘Shit, no,’ Kris exclaimed and sat up, ‘this is so wrong. Darling, let me explain.’
Eunice and her girls continued doing whatever it was they were doing, ignoring us, not at all bothered with our argument.
‘No explanation necessary,’ I replied calmly. ‘Just make sure that the room is empty in the morning.’
‘No, please, listen…’ Kris pushed away the girl and came towards me, naked, delicious and irresistible. And totally sloshed, tottering across the floor. In any other situation I would’ve reacted in a more positive way, but this was a fuck too many for me to accept. On the bed, Eunice disengaged her face from the arse of one of the girls and looked at us with mild interest.
‘Listen to what? A bunch of dykes getting off? Been there, done that, and always preferred to be in on the action. Voyeurism isn’t my thing, sorry.’
Kris looked devastated and Eunice smirked as I walked out and quietly closed the door behind me.
The guard on duty, far from being an observant babushka, had decided there was no longer any need for his services. Soundly asleep at the top of the stairs, with nearly a dozen empty beer cans next to him. I let him be. The corridor was in semi-darkness, with just the night lights on, and silent. Whatever Danny and his newfound friend were up to in number seven, they were being quiet, which I approved of. To each his own, I thought, any way you want to spend your night is fine with me as long as you don’t disturb my sleep.
Minnie was waiting outside my bedroom. Good thinking on my part, bringing a saucer with me – as much as I loved her, I didn’t want to share my glass with her. Being a rat, even if she was my rat, who could know where she’d been eating. Or what.
‘Hey girl, ready for a nightcap? You must be as tired of the party as I am. And fed up with all the pretentious, drunken bastards and their bimbos.’
She squeaked in agreement and scratched the door.
‘Shh! Not so loud,’ I admonished her. ‘We don’t want the dudes in number seven to discover there’s a rat in the hotel. It would be bad for our TripAdvisor ratings.’
Which got me thinking that it would be a good idea, after all, to make sure the other rooms were empty, considering the less than reliable guard. I opened the door and let Minnie in, then poured us a sizeable shot each.
‘You stay here while I check out the rooms, okay?’
She ignored me and focused on the whisky. Me, making an alcoholic out of a rat? Absolutely not, Minnie was a natural.
I went back to the other end of the corridor and started with room number one. I’d had all doors replaced with heavy, perfect fit period replicas, complying with fire regulations and at the same time assuring guests of soundproofing and maximum privacy. As I couldn’t check for a thin strip of light visible under the door, nor listen for any sound coming from within, I opened the door slightly, then pushed it wide open and looked inside. Empty. I made my way down the corridor, confirming that each room was unoccupied and, as I came to number seven, I was tempted for a second to open the door and act surprised, just for the hell of it. Then I reconsidered and continued – I may behave childishly but I’m not infantile, you know.
I got to my room without finding any unexpected squatters, finally looked at the honeymoon suite across the hall. Surely, anyone desperate enough for a quick fuck would use one of the rooms closer to the stairs? And not be choosy enough to go for the suite? I’d not even included it in my guided tour earlier as there was no one in the group looking like they were planning a wedding. As far as I was aware, none of the guests even knew there was a honeymoon suite in the house. Kris knows, the voice chuckled quietly. You may want to check it out, just in case.
I opened the door slowly and peeked in. The living room was dark, as I’d hoped. But there was light coming from the bedroom, and muffled sounds. Told you so, didn’t I, the voice taunted me. Now go in and catch her, it whispered, in flagrante delicto. Get it over with – you know you want to.
I tiptoed through the hall, crossed the living room, and looked through the open bedroom door. In different circumstances, I would’ve happily walked in and joined the party as the one and only male participant bearing gifts. Instead, the only thing I could think of was that my hotel, without me ever planning it, was on its way to become the premier rainbow, LGBT-whatever lodging in Southeast Asia. I noted at least half a dozen empty bottles of my best champagne, but no glasses. Philistines.
‘Hi, Kris. Having a good time, I presume?’
She was reclining in one of the easy chairs, legs and arms out, eyes closed. She could’ve been asleep, if it hadn’t been for the girl on top of her, frantically humping a thigh and squeezing her tits, both of them until now blissfully unaware of my presence. On the oversized honeymoon bed, Eunice was equally busy, performing impressive acrobatics with two more girls.
‘Shit, no,’ Kris exclaimed and sat up, ‘this is so wrong. Darling, let me explain.’
Eunice and her girls continued doing whatever it was they were doing, ignoring us, not at all bothered with our argument.
‘No explanation necessary,’ I replied calmly. ‘Just make sure that the room is empty in the morning.’
‘No, please, listen…’ Kris pushed away the girl and came towards me, naked, delicious and irresistible. And totally sloshed, tottering across the floor. In any other situation I would’ve reacted in a more positive way, but this was a fuck too many for me to accept. On the bed, Eunice disengaged her face from the arse of one of the girls and looked at us with mild interest.
‘Listen to what? A bunch of dykes getting off? Been there, done that, and always preferred to be in on the action. Voyeurism isn’t my thing, sorry.’
Kris looked devastated and Eunice smirked as I walked out and quietly closed the door behind me.
Chapter 62
‘Darling, can we talk about this at least? It’s not what it looked like,’ Kris was pleading with me, sitting on my chest, still naked, her perfect tits swaying in agitation.
‘Oh, sure,’ I replied in what I judged was a cool and distant manner, while I felt the room spinning out of control, ‘we can talk about this all you want. Talk is free. In our case at least, we’re not married. We won’t have to spend a load of money talking through our lawyers. And you won’t have to worry about me claiming any part of your wealth.’
Getting back to my room after my killer riposte, outwardly I’d felt like the epitome of calm, yet I was stewing inside. The voice congratulating me for having finally dealt with the bitch was loud and irritating, but not loud enough to prevent other, more moderate thoughts from emerging. I was both pissed and pissed off, and full of self-righteous indignation, but had managed to convince myself to hold off any internal metaphysical Bergman dramas until morning and instead go for instant oblivion. Picking up the emergency joint box from the bedside table I’d selected the fattest one from the rightmost compartment, the one with the “Coma” label. Once I lit it up I didn’t stop inhaling until it was gone.
‘Fuck it, Minnie, let’s go to sleep,’ I’d said as I crashed on the bed, topping up my glass once more and ignoring the chatter in my brain. ‘Too much information to process in my current state. But it’s a blast, innit, getting wasted every now and then. How would mankind ever have survived, never mind evolved, without alcohol and THC?’
As I drifted off to sleep, I was vaguely aware of the door opening and closing. I ignored it, sure that I’d imagined it. I even disregarded the sudden movement of the mattress, telling myself that it was only Minnie getting up on the bed to keep me company. Lovely girl, Minnie, recognising that I needed to be comforted. Who the fuck needs fucking women anyway?
But the weight that I felt on my chest was substantially more than that of a rat, even a well-fed Southeast Asian one, which made me open my eyes partially. Kris hovered above me, her face close enough to mine for me to smell the stale booze on her breath. As well as a vague aroma of pussy, which did nothing to improve my mood.
‘Fuck my wealth,’ she hissed, ‘you stupid, stupid man. All I care about is you. What does it take for you to get it through your thick skull? I love you.’
‘And you do show it in the most charming ways,’ I replied slowly from the other end of a long, dark tunnel, my voice reverberating off its nauseatingly rotating walls. ‘I love watching you fuck someone else, I really do. It truly confirms our deep feelings and respect for each other.’
‘That was a mistake–’
I ignored her pathetic excuse. ‘Once you make me an honorary member of your dyke club we’ll live happily ever after. All of us. Which…’
Another wave of high hit me, starting in my legs and moving up until it tickled my scalp. It felt fantastically good, and in that moment nothing else mattered. I saw Kris mouthing silent words and waited for the sounds to reach me, barely interested.
‘… please concentrate. I know you’re angry and drunk–’
‘Pot and kettle,’ I managed to say.
‘Yes, I’m also drunk. I know it. But I only got drunk because I was happy, thinking that you’d gotten over whichever issues you thought we had. And that you love me.’
It took me a few hours, weed time, to process this. And a couple more to come up with a reply.
‘That’s why you decided to celebrate with Eu… Eu… Euphonia–’
‘Eunice.’
‘Whatever. And the rest of the dykes. Instead of me.’
‘But you were busy with the guests! And drinking whisky with uncle Ho.’
Kris mentioning the old goat reminded me of the conversation I’d had earlier, and the bombs he’d casually dropped.
‘Speaking of which, ho-ho-ho,’ I giggled at the display of my brilliant wit, ‘your uncle has spilled the beans. You were in on this from the start. With him.’
‘In on what?’ Kris asked, eyebrows raised.
She seems genuinely puzzled. I knew better, of course, but I wanted to see how she’d wriggle out of this one. So I retold my conversation with Ho. I began at the beginning and went on until I got to the end. Then I stopped.
‘You know you’re paranoid, don’t you? You should find another dealer, because this shit is bad for you,’ Kris said, leaning down and breathing out pussy scent all over my face. ‘Or, even better, just stop smoking. At least for a while. Please?’
‘That’s your best defence?’ I asked, torn between feeling horny from the scent and detesting it coming from Kris’ mouth.
‘No, it’s not. Your reasoning is fucked up. Sure, I got some information from uncle Ho about Tigran and the artefact, but I’ve told you all about it.’
‘No, you haven’t,’ I insisted. ‘You just said that you’d talked to people, that’s all.’
‘I didn’t tell you that some of it came from uncle Ho because I know you don’t like him.’
‘And he never told you that he and Tigran were friends?’
‘No, he didn’t have to. I assumed they’d known each other. In those days, KL was up for grabs and both of them were busy building their empires.’
‘He never let on that he knows more about this fucking artefact than I do?’
‘No. Probably because he didn’t want us messing with something that’s beyond us, as we’ve found out. And bad.’
I mulled this over and decided to change the subject.
‘And the house? You didn’t tell me that he was the owner.’
‘Because I didn’t know it. Yes,’ Kris nodded, ‘I knew that it used to belong to him, but he was always talking about it in past sense, so I assumed that he’d sold it years ago. And I didn’t see any reason to tell you about it. It didn’t matter then, and still doesn’t.’
Dammit, she was giving me all the right answers. I was coming down from the high and quickly running out of arguments. So I hit her where I felt it would hurt most. At least as much as it had hurt me.
‘Eu… Eunice is hot, isn’t she? I don’t blame you. Given a chance, I’d fuck her myself, if she would ever consider a male scratching her itch. But you organising an orgy, in the honeymoon suite, is beyond belief. In my own fucking hotel, across the corridor from my own fucking bedroom.’
‘I’m so sorry about that, darling, and believe me, that wasn’t my plan at all.’ Kris seemed genuinely remorseful. ‘It just happened. She mentioned that she knows Edwina and when I asked her to tell me more she said she would, but only in private.’
‘And none of the regular rooms were fit for that purpose?’
‘Oh, darling, I chose the suite so we could talk in the living room and not be tempted by the bed. I went ahead and didn’t expect Eunice to bring the girls with her. Honestly.’
I could picture several other, more likely scenarios, but decided to give Kris the benefit of a doubt.
‘So she knows Edwina, so what? I bet there’s an extensive underground lesbian network in Malaysia and Singapore, with all of you dykes knowing and fucking each other.’
‘It’s not about her knowing Edwina,’ Kris said, ignoring my dig. ‘It’s who Edwina knows, and why. Do you remember Cecil, you met him at uncle’s birthday party?’
Now she got me interested.
‘Fine, do tell all. But I have to warn you,’ I added, ‘I may go back to sleep if I don’t find your narrative exciting enough.’
I stayed awake. Wide awake. Kris’ story was indeed enlightening – offering a plausible explanation to almost everything that had happened to me over the last months. And, to top it off, giving me a fascinating insight into the regional underground lesbian network. Yes, there actually is one.
On her way home from Australia, Eunice had stopped over in Singapore, for one of Edwina’s girlie parties. The two had known each other for years, ever since Edwina introduced her to the pleasures of female anatomy. These parties, Kris insisted, were far from unique to Edwina, or Singapore. Not surprising, really, considering the prevailing and twisted holier-than-thou morals, still anchored in Victorian values and, in the case of Malaysia, enforced by those tireless defenders of the one and true faith, the Jakim morons. In any society which represses sexuality, particularly when it’s considered to be aberrant, people will always find an outlet for their basic needs. Both physical and mental, as any psychology student will tell you.
It’s an old practice in both countries, the girlie parties. A select group of women meet regularly to have sex with each other – in twosomes, threesomes or groups. Outwardly, it’s just another women-only gathering. Chit-chat and gossip and exchanging makeup tips. Not something that husbands and boyfriends would ever want to join, even if they’d been allowed to. In reality, everyone knows what happens at the parties but, as with everything else in Southeast Asia – if you don’t talk about it, it doesn’t exist.
‘When you accepted Edwina’s invitation, you knew full well what it was about? No, don’t answer, I prefer not to know.’
Kris turned her head away in embarrassment and squeezed my hand in a silent reply, then continued Eunice’s story.
Eunice and Edwina in bed, post-sex sweaty and breathless, when Edwina’s phone starts buzzing. Her business partner in KL, she explains to Eunice after the call, is concerned about their joint project. And a competitor that may jeopardise it. The partner is Cecil, the fat Chinese, and their project is the first, and only, small boutique luxury hotel in Bukit Tunku. Except for another, very similar venture, one that’s nearly ready to start trading. Edwina is drunk and pissed off, and ranting, Eunice is getting bored and restless.
There was more to Cecil than Kris had thought. The bastard was not just a minor entrepreneur and kowtowing member of Ho’s court. Creating his KL property empire, he’d been quietly taking over restaurants and nightclubs for years, and now wanted to get into hotels. Even more interesting, Cecil had no money of his own. He was just fronting the establishments, the investment capital coming from Edwina.
‘So all of what’s happened had nothing to do with the artefact, did it? It’s only been about my hotel. Just the usual human greed, nothing supernatural.’
‘That’s what I thought as well,’ Kris agreed. ‘But your dreams–’
‘The shooting on the motorway, Tikus getting killed, the boat trailing us in Sulu, it’s all Cecil and Edwina’s doing. Heck, they probably even planted the bloody python in the gutter. All because of competition.’ I shook my head in dismay.
‘Never underestimate Asian greed, or in this case, kiasu.’
‘What?’
‘Hokkien Chinese, darling. Meaning a lot of things, all of it coming down to being competitive and never accepting defeat, regardless of the consequences. Not coming out on top is unworthy and shameful and second-class.’
‘Yes, that about sums up Edwina, based on my two encounters with her. Definitely the second one,’ I added remorselessly.
‘I’m sure Edwina is guilty of kiasu, but having got to know her, I’d rather suspect Cecil of arranging the incidents. Edwina would’ve been more refined.’
‘Well, whatever, now that I know what this is about, I can make sure it doesn’t happen again.’ I was working up a righteous wrath. ‘I’ll just have a little chat with Cecil, break all the major bones in his body and advise him politely not to bother me again.’
‘Darling, let’s sleep on this,’ Kris said with a sigh, rolling off me and yawning. ‘It’s been a very long day, and exhausting. Let’s talk about this when we wake up, over breakfast, and agree on the proper course of action.’
As she fell asleep, snoring quietly, it struck me that she’d skilfully sidetracked me, avoided us talking about her participation in the orgy. I was about to wake her up to remind her of it, when another monumental high hit me. And nothing of importance mattered once I gave in to it.
‘Oh, sure,’ I replied in what I judged was a cool and distant manner, while I felt the room spinning out of control, ‘we can talk about this all you want. Talk is free. In our case at least, we’re not married. We won’t have to spend a load of money talking through our lawyers. And you won’t have to worry about me claiming any part of your wealth.’
Getting back to my room after my killer riposte, outwardly I’d felt like the epitome of calm, yet I was stewing inside. The voice congratulating me for having finally dealt with the bitch was loud and irritating, but not loud enough to prevent other, more moderate thoughts from emerging. I was both pissed and pissed off, and full of self-righteous indignation, but had managed to convince myself to hold off any internal metaphysical Bergman dramas until morning and instead go for instant oblivion. Picking up the emergency joint box from the bedside table I’d selected the fattest one from the rightmost compartment, the one with the “Coma” label. Once I lit it up I didn’t stop inhaling until it was gone.
‘Fuck it, Minnie, let’s go to sleep,’ I’d said as I crashed on the bed, topping up my glass once more and ignoring the chatter in my brain. ‘Too much information to process in my current state. But it’s a blast, innit, getting wasted every now and then. How would mankind ever have survived, never mind evolved, without alcohol and THC?’
As I drifted off to sleep, I was vaguely aware of the door opening and closing. I ignored it, sure that I’d imagined it. I even disregarded the sudden movement of the mattress, telling myself that it was only Minnie getting up on the bed to keep me company. Lovely girl, Minnie, recognising that I needed to be comforted. Who the fuck needs fucking women anyway?
But the weight that I felt on my chest was substantially more than that of a rat, even a well-fed Southeast Asian one, which made me open my eyes partially. Kris hovered above me, her face close enough to mine for me to smell the stale booze on her breath. As well as a vague aroma of pussy, which did nothing to improve my mood.
‘Fuck my wealth,’ she hissed, ‘you stupid, stupid man. All I care about is you. What does it take for you to get it through your thick skull? I love you.’
‘And you do show it in the most charming ways,’ I replied slowly from the other end of a long, dark tunnel, my voice reverberating off its nauseatingly rotating walls. ‘I love watching you fuck someone else, I really do. It truly confirms our deep feelings and respect for each other.’
‘That was a mistake–’
I ignored her pathetic excuse. ‘Once you make me an honorary member of your dyke club we’ll live happily ever after. All of us. Which…’
Another wave of high hit me, starting in my legs and moving up until it tickled my scalp. It felt fantastically good, and in that moment nothing else mattered. I saw Kris mouthing silent words and waited for the sounds to reach me, barely interested.
‘… please concentrate. I know you’re angry and drunk–’
‘Pot and kettle,’ I managed to say.
‘Yes, I’m also drunk. I know it. But I only got drunk because I was happy, thinking that you’d gotten over whichever issues you thought we had. And that you love me.’
It took me a few hours, weed time, to process this. And a couple more to come up with a reply.
‘That’s why you decided to celebrate with Eu… Eu… Euphonia–’
‘Eunice.’
‘Whatever. And the rest of the dykes. Instead of me.’
‘But you were busy with the guests! And drinking whisky with uncle Ho.’
Kris mentioning the old goat reminded me of the conversation I’d had earlier, and the bombs he’d casually dropped.
‘Speaking of which, ho-ho-ho,’ I giggled at the display of my brilliant wit, ‘your uncle has spilled the beans. You were in on this from the start. With him.’
‘In on what?’ Kris asked, eyebrows raised.
She seems genuinely puzzled. I knew better, of course, but I wanted to see how she’d wriggle out of this one. So I retold my conversation with Ho. I began at the beginning and went on until I got to the end. Then I stopped.
‘You know you’re paranoid, don’t you? You should find another dealer, because this shit is bad for you,’ Kris said, leaning down and breathing out pussy scent all over my face. ‘Or, even better, just stop smoking. At least for a while. Please?’
‘That’s your best defence?’ I asked, torn between feeling horny from the scent and detesting it coming from Kris’ mouth.
‘No, it’s not. Your reasoning is fucked up. Sure, I got some information from uncle Ho about Tigran and the artefact, but I’ve told you all about it.’
‘No, you haven’t,’ I insisted. ‘You just said that you’d talked to people, that’s all.’
‘I didn’t tell you that some of it came from uncle Ho because I know you don’t like him.’
‘And he never told you that he and Tigran were friends?’
‘No, he didn’t have to. I assumed they’d known each other. In those days, KL was up for grabs and both of them were busy building their empires.’
‘He never let on that he knows more about this fucking artefact than I do?’
‘No. Probably because he didn’t want us messing with something that’s beyond us, as we’ve found out. And bad.’
I mulled this over and decided to change the subject.
‘And the house? You didn’t tell me that he was the owner.’
‘Because I didn’t know it. Yes,’ Kris nodded, ‘I knew that it used to belong to him, but he was always talking about it in past sense, so I assumed that he’d sold it years ago. And I didn’t see any reason to tell you about it. It didn’t matter then, and still doesn’t.’
Dammit, she was giving me all the right answers. I was coming down from the high and quickly running out of arguments. So I hit her where I felt it would hurt most. At least as much as it had hurt me.
‘Eu… Eunice is hot, isn’t she? I don’t blame you. Given a chance, I’d fuck her myself, if she would ever consider a male scratching her itch. But you organising an orgy, in the honeymoon suite, is beyond belief. In my own fucking hotel, across the corridor from my own fucking bedroom.’
‘I’m so sorry about that, darling, and believe me, that wasn’t my plan at all.’ Kris seemed genuinely remorseful. ‘It just happened. She mentioned that she knows Edwina and when I asked her to tell me more she said she would, but only in private.’
‘And none of the regular rooms were fit for that purpose?’
‘Oh, darling, I chose the suite so we could talk in the living room and not be tempted by the bed. I went ahead and didn’t expect Eunice to bring the girls with her. Honestly.’
I could picture several other, more likely scenarios, but decided to give Kris the benefit of a doubt.
‘So she knows Edwina, so what? I bet there’s an extensive underground lesbian network in Malaysia and Singapore, with all of you dykes knowing and fucking each other.’
‘It’s not about her knowing Edwina,’ Kris said, ignoring my dig. ‘It’s who Edwina knows, and why. Do you remember Cecil, you met him at uncle’s birthday party?’
Now she got me interested.
‘Fine, do tell all. But I have to warn you,’ I added, ‘I may go back to sleep if I don’t find your narrative exciting enough.’
I stayed awake. Wide awake. Kris’ story was indeed enlightening – offering a plausible explanation to almost everything that had happened to me over the last months. And, to top it off, giving me a fascinating insight into the regional underground lesbian network. Yes, there actually is one.
On her way home from Australia, Eunice had stopped over in Singapore, for one of Edwina’s girlie parties. The two had known each other for years, ever since Edwina introduced her to the pleasures of female anatomy. These parties, Kris insisted, were far from unique to Edwina, or Singapore. Not surprising, really, considering the prevailing and twisted holier-than-thou morals, still anchored in Victorian values and, in the case of Malaysia, enforced by those tireless defenders of the one and true faith, the Jakim morons. In any society which represses sexuality, particularly when it’s considered to be aberrant, people will always find an outlet for their basic needs. Both physical and mental, as any psychology student will tell you.
It’s an old practice in both countries, the girlie parties. A select group of women meet regularly to have sex with each other – in twosomes, threesomes or groups. Outwardly, it’s just another women-only gathering. Chit-chat and gossip and exchanging makeup tips. Not something that husbands and boyfriends would ever want to join, even if they’d been allowed to. In reality, everyone knows what happens at the parties but, as with everything else in Southeast Asia – if you don’t talk about it, it doesn’t exist.
‘When you accepted Edwina’s invitation, you knew full well what it was about? No, don’t answer, I prefer not to know.’
Kris turned her head away in embarrassment and squeezed my hand in a silent reply, then continued Eunice’s story.
Eunice and Edwina in bed, post-sex sweaty and breathless, when Edwina’s phone starts buzzing. Her business partner in KL, she explains to Eunice after the call, is concerned about their joint project. And a competitor that may jeopardise it. The partner is Cecil, the fat Chinese, and their project is the first, and only, small boutique luxury hotel in Bukit Tunku. Except for another, very similar venture, one that’s nearly ready to start trading. Edwina is drunk and pissed off, and ranting, Eunice is getting bored and restless.
There was more to Cecil than Kris had thought. The bastard was not just a minor entrepreneur and kowtowing member of Ho’s court. Creating his KL property empire, he’d been quietly taking over restaurants and nightclubs for years, and now wanted to get into hotels. Even more interesting, Cecil had no money of his own. He was just fronting the establishments, the investment capital coming from Edwina.
‘So all of what’s happened had nothing to do with the artefact, did it? It’s only been about my hotel. Just the usual human greed, nothing supernatural.’
‘That’s what I thought as well,’ Kris agreed. ‘But your dreams–’
‘The shooting on the motorway, Tikus getting killed, the boat trailing us in Sulu, it’s all Cecil and Edwina’s doing. Heck, they probably even planted the bloody python in the gutter. All because of competition.’ I shook my head in dismay.
‘Never underestimate Asian greed, or in this case, kiasu.’
‘What?’
‘Hokkien Chinese, darling. Meaning a lot of things, all of it coming down to being competitive and never accepting defeat, regardless of the consequences. Not coming out on top is unworthy and shameful and second-class.’
‘Yes, that about sums up Edwina, based on my two encounters with her. Definitely the second one,’ I added remorselessly.
‘I’m sure Edwina is guilty of kiasu, but having got to know her, I’d rather suspect Cecil of arranging the incidents. Edwina would’ve been more refined.’
‘Well, whatever, now that I know what this is about, I can make sure it doesn’t happen again.’ I was working up a righteous wrath. ‘I’ll just have a little chat with Cecil, break all the major bones in his body and advise him politely not to bother me again.’
‘Darling, let’s sleep on this,’ Kris said with a sigh, rolling off me and yawning. ‘It’s been a very long day, and exhausting. Let’s talk about this when we wake up, over breakfast, and agree on the proper course of action.’
As she fell asleep, snoring quietly, it struck me that she’d skilfully sidetracked me, avoided us talking about her participation in the orgy. I was about to wake her up to remind her of it, when another monumental high hit me. And nothing of importance mattered once I gave in to it.
●
‘Boss, boss! Fire! Wake up!’ Billy shouted, shaking me violently.
Coming up through layers of sleep, I looked at Billy groggily, then the window. The sky was a shade lighter than pitch black, so I deduced it must be early morning. Then I looked to my right and saw Kris still fast asleep, curled up on her side, her arse snuggled against my hip.
‘Whaa… whaddya want?’
‘Fire, boss! In the kitchen! Come!’
‘Fucking hell,’ I exclaimed and jumped up, the conversation with Kris coming back to me in a rush.
I ran along the corridor, stumbled down the staircase, taking three steps at a time, with Billy barely able to keep up with me. In the reception, I could see heavy smoke coming from the kitchen through the open door. BB was standing in the doorway, his hair and beard singed, a discarded fire extinguisher on the floor next to him.
‘Man, we need more of these,’ he called out desperately.
‘Billy, there’s more in the garage! Bring as many as you can carry,’ I shouted, then turned to BB, ‘Anyone else of your guys around?’
BB shook his head, so I ran after Billy. We returned carrying four extinguishers each, and I gave two to BB before plunging into the kitchen. Dense with smoke, but I couldn’t see any fire in there. I moved through to the wet kitchen beyond. There wasn’t much in there yet, only a couple of worktops and two industrial sized gas stoves. And a 50 kg gas tank supplying the stoves, I remembered. If that were to go off there wouldn’t be much left of the house. Or anyone inside it.
Scanning the area, trying not to breathe in the acrid smoke, I saw the main source of the fire. The back door was wide open, the air rushing in, feeding a burning pile in front of it. Sparks were flying in all directions, starting new fires wherever they landed. A spark hit a stack of folded cardboard boxes next to the tank. The cardboard, being damp, was already steaming from the superheat, and almost exploded where the spark had hit, like pouring water on oil that’s caught fire. Frantically I directed the extinguisher towards the pile while kicking the cardboard away from the gas tank. But as I kicked, it started coming apart, the fire spreading through it in mini-explosions. Desperate and high on adrenalin I dropped the empty extinguisher and picked up the stack. Ignoring the pain, I carried it as close as I could get to the door and hurled it outside.
‘Get the extinguishers in here,’ I shouted to Billy and BB. ‘We’ve got to keep the flames away from the tank and hoses.’
Between the three of us we managed to get the fire under control, then went around, methodically spraying any remaining embers until every surface was covered with foam. Shaking from the adrenalin, and furious, I started kicking the smouldering pile – the cause of the fire – out the door. And screamed in pain as a thick, black substance covered my foot in patches, burning its way through the skin.
‘Here, man,’ BB had rushed out to the main kitchen, bringing back bags of ice. ‘This will stop the heat.’
‘What the hell happened here?’
The three of us turned to see Kris standing in the doorway, as naked as I was.
‘Just a slight incident,’ I said through clenched teeth, doing my best to manage the pain. ‘All under control now. I just need to have a little chat with the bastard that did this, then everything will be great. After I’ve killed him. Slowly.’
Kris’ eyes widened as she looked at me. ‘You’ve been shot! Again!’
‘I have?’
I looked down and saw that my torso and legs were peppered with black dots, oozing blood. And very painful, when I touched one.
‘Is not shotgun,’ BB explained to Kris, ‘jus’ sparks. He okay.’
‘Oh, darling,’ Kris exclaimed, coming up to me for a gentle hug.
I hugged her, then yelled out in pain as I pulled back my hands, realising they were raw and covered in blisters.
‘I’m fine. I’ll survive this. Cecil won’t.’ Then I thought of something else. ‘The cars, for fuck’s sake. Someone go and check the cars.’
Coming up through layers of sleep, I looked at Billy groggily, then the window. The sky was a shade lighter than pitch black, so I deduced it must be early morning. Then I looked to my right and saw Kris still fast asleep, curled up on her side, her arse snuggled against my hip.
‘Whaa… whaddya want?’
‘Fire, boss! In the kitchen! Come!’
‘Fucking hell,’ I exclaimed and jumped up, the conversation with Kris coming back to me in a rush.
I ran along the corridor, stumbled down the staircase, taking three steps at a time, with Billy barely able to keep up with me. In the reception, I could see heavy smoke coming from the kitchen through the open door. BB was standing in the doorway, his hair and beard singed, a discarded fire extinguisher on the floor next to him.
‘Man, we need more of these,’ he called out desperately.
‘Billy, there’s more in the garage! Bring as many as you can carry,’ I shouted, then turned to BB, ‘Anyone else of your guys around?’
BB shook his head, so I ran after Billy. We returned carrying four extinguishers each, and I gave two to BB before plunging into the kitchen. Dense with smoke, but I couldn’t see any fire in there. I moved through to the wet kitchen beyond. There wasn’t much in there yet, only a couple of worktops and two industrial sized gas stoves. And a 50 kg gas tank supplying the stoves, I remembered. If that were to go off there wouldn’t be much left of the house. Or anyone inside it.
Scanning the area, trying not to breathe in the acrid smoke, I saw the main source of the fire. The back door was wide open, the air rushing in, feeding a burning pile in front of it. Sparks were flying in all directions, starting new fires wherever they landed. A spark hit a stack of folded cardboard boxes next to the tank. The cardboard, being damp, was already steaming from the superheat, and almost exploded where the spark had hit, like pouring water on oil that’s caught fire. Frantically I directed the extinguisher towards the pile while kicking the cardboard away from the gas tank. But as I kicked, it started coming apart, the fire spreading through it in mini-explosions. Desperate and high on adrenalin I dropped the empty extinguisher and picked up the stack. Ignoring the pain, I carried it as close as I could get to the door and hurled it outside.
‘Get the extinguishers in here,’ I shouted to Billy and BB. ‘We’ve got to keep the flames away from the tank and hoses.’
Between the three of us we managed to get the fire under control, then went around, methodically spraying any remaining embers until every surface was covered with foam. Shaking from the adrenalin, and furious, I started kicking the smouldering pile – the cause of the fire – out the door. And screamed in pain as a thick, black substance covered my foot in patches, burning its way through the skin.
‘Here, man,’ BB had rushed out to the main kitchen, bringing back bags of ice. ‘This will stop the heat.’
‘What the hell happened here?’
The three of us turned to see Kris standing in the doorway, as naked as I was.
‘Just a slight incident,’ I said through clenched teeth, doing my best to manage the pain. ‘All under control now. I just need to have a little chat with the bastard that did this, then everything will be great. After I’ve killed him. Slowly.’
Kris’ eyes widened as she looked at me. ‘You’ve been shot! Again!’
‘I have?’
I looked down and saw that my torso and legs were peppered with black dots, oozing blood. And very painful, when I touched one.
‘Is not shotgun,’ BB explained to Kris, ‘jus’ sparks. He okay.’
‘Oh, darling,’ Kris exclaimed, coming up to me for a gentle hug.
I hugged her, then yelled out in pain as I pulled back my hands, realising they were raw and covered in blisters.
‘I’m fine. I’ll survive this. Cecil won’t.’ Then I thought of something else. ‘The cars, for fuck’s sake. Someone go and check the cars.’
●
‘They used tar,’ BB said, ‘and petrol. Wood soaked in petrol then covered in tar. Very professional. Good thing you have foam extinguishers. Use water, is like bomb.’
‘At least they didn’t touch the cars,’ I said gloomily.
‘Nor did the sparks damage my favourite part of your body,’ Kris said with a slight smile.
The four of us were sitting in the reception, Kris modestly wrapped in a blanket, with two bottles of vodka on the table, both nearly empty. I’d used one to disinfect my burns, pouring it over myself until I stank like an old wino. We’d opened all doors and windows to clear the smoke, the mosquitoes buzzing around us happily, loving the smorgasbord. An hour later, the only smoke was from the joint I was puffing on to blunt the pain.
‘Maybe that’s what I should do. Get one of the remaining pieces of wood and shove it up the bastard’s arse. Splinters and all. Then light it.’
‘You know who did this, man?’
‘I do know, BB. Cecil the fat Chinese. The same bastard that got Tikus killed.’
‘We don’t know that for a fact…’
I stared at Kris.
‘… but it’s him, very likely,’ she added quietly.
This opened the floodgates, with everyone talking and shouting across each other. BB and Billy were all for immediately getting the boys together and locating Cecil; Kris cautiously insisted that we needed proof before taking any action; I tried to get everyone to shut up and listen to what I had to say – after all, I’d been the one to suffer most. In the end they did.
‘Is good plan,’ BB smiled, the way a shark smiles just before it takes a bite out of an unsuspecting swimmer.
I looked at Kris, who nodded silently.
‘Hey, what’s up? Is something burning?’
Danny and the Calvin Klein boy had come down the staircase, managing to look both puzzled and thoroughly fucked at the same time.
‘Billy, please escort these gentlemen off the premises. They’ve enjoyed my hospitality long enough.’
‘At least they didn’t touch the cars,’ I said gloomily.
‘Nor did the sparks damage my favourite part of your body,’ Kris said with a slight smile.
The four of us were sitting in the reception, Kris modestly wrapped in a blanket, with two bottles of vodka on the table, both nearly empty. I’d used one to disinfect my burns, pouring it over myself until I stank like an old wino. We’d opened all doors and windows to clear the smoke, the mosquitoes buzzing around us happily, loving the smorgasbord. An hour later, the only smoke was from the joint I was puffing on to blunt the pain.
‘Maybe that’s what I should do. Get one of the remaining pieces of wood and shove it up the bastard’s arse. Splinters and all. Then light it.’
‘You know who did this, man?’
‘I do know, BB. Cecil the fat Chinese. The same bastard that got Tikus killed.’
‘We don’t know that for a fact…’
I stared at Kris.
‘… but it’s him, very likely,’ she added quietly.
This opened the floodgates, with everyone talking and shouting across each other. BB and Billy were all for immediately getting the boys together and locating Cecil; Kris cautiously insisted that we needed proof before taking any action; I tried to get everyone to shut up and listen to what I had to say – after all, I’d been the one to suffer most. In the end they did.
‘Is good plan,’ BB smiled, the way a shark smiles just before it takes a bite out of an unsuspecting swimmer.
I looked at Kris, who nodded silently.
‘Hey, what’s up? Is something burning?’
Danny and the Calvin Klein boy had come down the staircase, managing to look both puzzled and thoroughly fucked at the same time.
‘Billy, please escort these gentlemen off the premises. They’ve enjoyed my hospitality long enough.’