A New Beginning

by Mark David Abbott

  “We have a beautiful bar area and fantastic food. Do you like Japanese food?”

  “Yes, I do. Why did you decide on a Japanese theme?”

  Hassan laughed. “Look around you when you walk the streets in this area. The largest expat community in Bangkok is Japanese. I have a captive market. It makes sound business sense. Interestingly enough, my clientele is mixed with people of all nationalities.” He licked his lips. “Come and see for yourself. I’ll show you around.”

  Adriana scribbled in her notebook, all the while thinking about how she could wind the interview up. Looking up she said, “Yes, I’ll call you.

  “Did you have any difficulties setting up the restaurant? After all, it’s a new industry for you in a different country.”

  Hassan raised his gaze from her legs and nodded. “I won’t deny there were difficulties, but nothing a man of my abilities couldn’t handle.”

  “I assume you have a local partner. I think that’s a requirement in Thailand. They must have been helpful.”

  “I have some minor shareholders, yes,” Hassan frowned. “But the investment and the skills are all mine.”

  “I’m sure.” Adriana looked down at her pad. “I think I have enough for now. I’ll send a photographer around this week for some photos.” She slipped her notebook into her bag, and stood, smoothing the wrinkles out of her skirt.

  “Thank you for your time.”

  “Finished already? That was quick.” Hassan levered himself out of the chair. “Please make sure you visit Dragon.” He removed a card from his wallet. “Here is my number. Call me, and I will look after you.”

  Adriana forced a smile and took the card. Hassan held out his hand, and she shook it. It was damp and soft, and he held onto hers for longer than was comfortable.

  “I hope to see you again.”

  Adriana pulled her hand free and suppressed a shudder. She couldn’t wait to get out of there. She forced a smile.

  “Yes, I’ll pop in. Thank you for your time.”

  As she turned toward the door, she thought she saw the young lady watching her through the gap in the kitchen door. When she looked again, there was no-one there.

  4

  Adriana sipped on her iced coffee and looked over her notes from the interview. She had enough information, with padding and a few photos, she could easily produce a printable article. They never wanted anything too detailed, just some words to accompany the glossy photos that filled the magazine. It wasn’t highbrow literature or Pulitzer Prize-winning journalism, but sometimes, life throws you a curveball, and your plans don’t turn out as you want.

  She took another sip of her coffee and allowed her mind to wander. She thought back to how she had ended up in Bangkok in the first place, something completely unplanned. The plan had been to marry Miguel, settle down in Lisbon, and build a career, working for a quality newspaper like Expresso or Público—his affair ruined that, the pig.

  Heartbroken, she hadn’t been able to stay in Lisbon. They shared friends, ate in the same restaurants, and worked in the same neighborhood. She couldn’t bear to see him, especially flaunting that floozy, Ines, on his arm.

  Now, here she was in Bangkok, a city she had grown to love but had never even thought of visiting when she was with Miguel.

  At least she was writing. Okay, it was freelance and for lifestyle magazines, but she didn’t feel she had abandoned her love of writing completely.

  Taking another sip of coffee, she looked around the café. It hummed with activity, filled with wealthy locals and expats, and she had only managed a seat at the counter. The city buzzed all the time; she loved it.

  Adriana felt someone close to her and turned to see a tall, lean, western man with his hand on the unoccupied stool to her left.

  “Do you mind if I sit here?” he smiled.

  Adriana couldn’t really say no, it was the only available seat left, and besides, he was polite and not bad looking.

  “Not at all.” She returned his smile and went back to her notes. Hassan Rahman was undoubtedly creepy. The fancy apartment and his wealth didn’t win her over, but she couldn’t choose who she interviewed. It was pieces like this that paid her rent. However, the article wasn’t due until the end of the week, and although it was starting to form in her mind, she didn’t feel like writing it right now. She would leave it to her subconscious to put the words in place and write it later. Her mind wandered again, this time to the girl she had seen working in Hassan’s apartment. She wasn’t Thai... perhaps Burmese or even Bangladeshi, which was unusual. She didn’t look happy… I wonder what her story is… it was bound to be more interesting than Hassan’s.

  Sipping her coffee, she glanced sideways at the man sitting next to her. He smelled nice and had a deep tan which meant he probably lived here. It wasn’t the one-week tan you saw on a tourist. As if confirming her impression, she heard him order a coffee in Thai. He caught her looking at him and smiled.

  “I’m trying.”

  “Sounded good to me,” Adriana smiled back. He wasn’t bad looking at all. The corners of his eyes crinkled up when he smiled, he had an English accent, and a calm, relaxed manner. He picked up his phone and scrolled through his apps, which was a pleasant change. Usually, men tried to hit on her as soon as she turned any attention their way. She looked down and tried to concentrate on her notes but couldn’t. Maybe it wouldn’t harm to have a chat with him. It had been a long time since she had decent male companionship, and he didn’t seem like one of the sleazy guys who spent their days drinking beer at the girly bars. She turned toward him again.

  “Where did you learn Thai?”

  He looked up from his phone and studied her face. He didn’t answer immediately, looking into her eyes with an intensity that made the back of her neck tingle. It wasn’t creepy the way Hassan had looked at her, didn’t make her want to look away. He gave a half smile, the left side of his mouth curling up.

  “I always like to learn at least a few words of the local language when I travel. It makes me feel less like an outsider.” He looked away as if reluctant to continue.

  At that moment, his coffee arrived. She watched as he smiled at the barista and returned the sugar and the small jug of milk it came with. He noticed her watching him.

  “No sense in wasting things.” He sipped his coffee and licked his lips. “Great.”

  “Yes, it’s my first time here. I’m pleasantly surprised by the coffee.”

  “Are you on holiday?”

  “No, I live here.” She held out her hand. “I’m Adriana.”

  “Hi, Adriana. John, John Hayes.” He shook her hand, his grip firm, confident. “I live here too. At least for now.”

  “For now?”

  He looked away, his eyes scanning the tables before replying.

  “It’s a long story. Let’s just say I’m taking a break.”

  Adriana looked down at her iced coffee and took a sip through the straw before replying quietly.

  “Me too, in a way.” She looked up and realized John was watching her. She smiled. “Also a long story.”

  5

  He hadn’t seen her in here before, he would have remembered. She had smooth, olive skin and jet black hair tied in a high ponytail, accentuating her high cheekbones. A thin gold chain around her neck and a pair of gold hoop earrings were her only jewelry—he noticed the absence of rings as her long, elegant fingers grasped her iced coffee. He felt guilty looking for a ring but felt himself wanting to know more about her. Her English was accented... Spanish, South American? He wasn’t sure.

  “Where are you from, Adriana?”

  She turned toward him, and again, he felt transfixed by her eyes, hazel with flecks of gold, as they caught the light. He felt a strange sensation in his chest, something he hadn’t experienced for years.

  “I’m from Portugal.” Her face came alive when she smiled as if the sun had come out from behind a cloud. “And you?”

  “England originally.” John looked back
at his coffee. Was he doing the wrong thing? Charlotte had been the only woman to make his heart jump like that. It had been almost three years since her murder, but he longed for female companionship1. He thought of her every day, but her memory was fading with time. Without looking at her photo, it was becoming more and more difficult to visualize her face. He took a large sip of his coffee. Was he betraying her? He didn’t know, but there was something about the woman sitting next to him that attracted him… anyway, all he was doing was talking.

  “What do you do here in Bangkok, Adriana?”

  “I’m a freelance writer. I write for a few magazines here and some travel magazines overseas.” She shrugged. “It pays the rent.”

  “You sound like it’s not what you really want to do.”

  “I studied journalism, wanting to be an investigative journalist. My dream was always to work for a newspaper like Público. Have you heard of the newspaper?”

  John shook his head.

  “Well, it’s a well-regarded newspaper in Portugal. But... life has other plans, and now I’m here instead.”

  John watched her as she spoke, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, exposing her long slim neck. His heart was beating faster, and he could feel his body temperature rising. What was happening to him? He had avoided female contact for so long, it wasn’t right. Charlotte was the love of his life and could never… no, should never be replaced… but he couldn’t deny this woman fascinated him.

  He cleared his throat. “Yes, life has a way of doing that.” Picking up his coffee cup, he peered into it as if seeking inspiration in the black liquid. “One thing life has taught me though, make the most of every moment, and if you’re doing something you don’t enjoy, you must change it. Life is too short. Something might happen tomorrow that changes all your plans.”

  She tilted her head, studying his face but said nothing.

  “I’m sorry, that sounds depressing.” He drained his coffee cup and pushed back his chair. “I have to go. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

  John ignored her look of surprise and reached for his wallet, removing some cash and placing it on the counter. “Please, the coffee is on me.”

  Adriana stood up, and he realized she was only an inch or two shorter than him. John held out his hand.

  “Maybe I will see you around.” She took his hand, and a tingling sensation ran up his arm.

  “I hope so, John.”

  John let go of her hand and walked out of the café, confused. He felt guilt but also desire. He needed to get his head straight.

  1 See “Vengeance” - John Hayes #1

  6

  Adriana sat back down, picked up her iced coffee, and absentmindedly sipped from the straw. He was an attractive man. Why did he leave so suddenly? Was it something she said? She didn’t think so. She set her drink down and sighed. Oh well, perhaps it wasn’t meant to be.

  She reached for her notebook again, running her eyes over the notes and thought back to her interview with Hassan Rahman. A thought struck her. Placing the notebook back on the countertop she picked up her phone, opened the web browser, and typed in his name. She cursed under her breath as the results took an eon to load. Looking around the cafe, she noticed everyone staring at their phones, all of them logged into the cafe wi-fi, slowing things down. She could always wait until she got back to her apartment where the speed was faster, but just then, the screen changed, and the results came up. Scrolling down, she skipped the articles about Hassan’s resto-bar in Bangkok, not wanting to read them in case they influenced how she wrote her article. She clicked through to the second page to find something more interesting. Nothing jumped out, so she added Bangladesh to the search terms and waited as the wheel spun in the toolbar. After a while, the results came up, and she scrolled through. A headline halfway down the page caught her eye. Factory fire kills three.

  Adriana opened the article from The Daily Star, Dhaka’s newspaper, and started reading.

  Police are investigating a suspicious fire in the factory of Rahman IMPEX today after a blaze destroyed the premises and killed three factory workers who had been sleeping in the building. The owner Mr. Hassan Rahman could not be reached for comment.

  Neighbors report the factory was often open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, and working conditions inside were very poor. A police spokesman declined to comment on the incident, except to say investigations were ongoing. An unnamed source in the police department mentioned suspicion of insurance fraud.

  Adriana shifted back on the stool and looked across the cafe, her mind racing. Perhaps there was more to this guy than originally thought. Her journalistic instincts smelled a story. She slipped her phone into her bag. She had to go home… she needed faster internet. She was excited, all thoughts of the man she had met forgotten.

  Waving to the barista, she signaled for the bill.

  7

  Adriana’s apartment was on the twenty-fifth floor of a building in Thonglor on the North-East side of Sukhumvit Road. In recent years, the area had undergone a redevelopment and now housed many of the trendier bars and restaurants, catering to the wealthier middle class of Bangkok. At just over five hundred square feet, her apartment was small, but the location, close to the BTS, the Sky Train that served the Sukhumvit area and Silom, was convenient. The traffic in Bangkok was always terrible, and without access to the rail system, getting anywhere was misery.

  The security guards stood as she entered the building and greeted her with a wai, their hands clasped together in front of their chests. She waved back before taking the lift to the twenty-fifth floor and walking along the corridor to her apartment. Dropping her bag on the dining table, she switched on the air-con, kicked off her shoes, and walked across to the full-height windows, looking out across the suburbs of Bangkok. The city was massive, buildings as far as she could see, and although the sky above was blue and cloudless, where it met the horizon, it was smudged with a dirty brown. She loved the city and the people but staying here long term probably wasn’t the best choice for her health.

  While the apartment cooled, she sat down at the dining table and opened her laptop. It was time to find out more about Mr. Rahman. For the first time since she left Portugal, her investigative mind was itching to get going. There was a story here, and it wasn’t the one the magazine had asked for.

  8

  Since John had met Adriana, he couldn’t get her out of his head, returning to the coffee bar every day, at the same time. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been there.

  The day they met, he had gone back to his apartment and stared at the silver-framed picture of Charlotte he kept beside his bed. His heart ached for her, but sadly, she was never coming back, and he was lonely. Humans seek companionship, and he was no different. He had managed alright so far, keeping himself busy, diverting his mind to other things, but the meeting with Adriana had awakened long-forgotten feelings—feelings he had buried deep down, for fear of being hurt again.

  Looking at the photo, he had decided to forget the beautiful Portuguese woman, but the next morning, he was back at the coffee bar after his run, then again the morning after that. Partly, he was glad she wasn’t there, but he had to admit, he was also disappointed.

  On the fourth day, he was sipping his coffee when he felt someone pull out the stool next to him. He turned, and his heart skipped a beat.

  “Is this seat taken?”

  “O-O-Of course not,” he stammered, suddenly, surprisingly nervous. He swallowed and composed himself. “Adriana, right? How are you?”

  “Very well, thank you, John.” She smiled back, the light catching the gold flecks in her eyes.

  “Can I get you a coffee? What would you like?”

  Adriana looked around the cafe and spotted a drink on one of the tables. “I want to try one of those.”

  John looked where she was pointing and grinned. He signaled to the barista and ordered for her in Thai.

  “I’m impressed with your Thai skills, John
. I’ve been here for almost a year, and I can’t speak a word.”

  “I’m fluent in a restaurant when it comes to ordering food, but please don’t ask me to have a conversation.”

  “Well, at least you know the important stuff,” Adriana laughed.

  The barista approached the counter, placing a small glass and a white jug in front of Adriana. In the glass were two black ice cubes—frozen espresso.

  “I’ve always wanted to try this,” she said as she reached for the jug and poured thick cream over the ice cubes. “I’ve never seen it anywhere else.”

  “The Thais seem to have a knack for beautifully presenting food and drink.” John looked at his own cup, “I prefer my coffee hot and black though, even in this climate.”

  Adriana smiled, picking up a spoon, and stirred her glass. “I think I need to wait for the ice to melt.”

  “It will be pretty strong by the time you get to the end,” John grinned.

  “Yes,” Adriana chuckled, “perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea after all.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, both watching the team of baristas as they bustled behind the bar, preparing drinks.

  John turned to face her, “So…”

  At the same time, Adriana turned, “You…”

  They laughed at the awkward moment, then John said, “Please, go ahead.”

  Adriana toyed with her glass.

  “I was going to ask, how you fill your days? You mentioned the last time we met you were taking a break.”

  “Yes, I am.” John shrugged, “I always find something to do. I go to a Thai language school twice a week, I exercise, I explore the city. Most of all, I enjoy not having a fixed agenda.” John paused, still hesitant to share too much. He was in the habit of keeping things to himself, but it felt good to talk to this beautiful woman. “I’ve had a rough couple of years, so it’s nice to take time out.”