by L. J. Hawke
With the guitar, Tania suddenly felt like a whole person again, like she'd only been part of herself for years. She had to sell her Stratocaster her parents had bought her for Christmas in happier times. Tania had kept it locked up at school but had to sell it to pay for her first semester of college. Despite the scholarships and loans, there was just so damn much to pay for, and only so many hours in the day for her to be able to work. It didn't help that there were only shit jobs in the small town where she was, only so much money she could make.
The Stratocaster had been a gift, one of many that she later sold off to get her education. Plunging from upper middle class to living surrounded by farms didn’t bother her as much as it probably should have, because she still had her Stratocaster. And, of course, Miss Amelia at the library. Now, she had a cheap knockoff, but at least she was herself again.
They got in, plugged in the equipment. Then, Flix surprised Tania by wanting to do “Dead or Alive.” She was able to bang out the complex beginning to the song, shocking herself with the music coming alive under her fingers. Even with only singing the cowboy lyrics of a single song, Flix still had to leave the end of the song to her. Tania sang with wild abandon, able to hit notes she hadn't sung in years.
Tania was glad she had bought a little tripod for her phone while she was wandering around before the set. She had her cell phone record everything for the benefit of her sisters back home. Tania debated about recording “Rocket Queen,” terrified that evil-minded Kandace would post it online, but she decided to trust, but threaten.
Tania didn't have to buy the champagne for “Pour Some Sugar on Me.” One of the bartenders brought it over to her, and she gave him a saucy wink and a smile. He grinned back, and he sold several bottles right there on the floor. The audience roared the lyrics back at her, drank champagne by pouring it into each other's mouths, and asked for more and more curtain calls. They ended with “Close My Eyes Forever,” went backstage to drink a lot of water, then went back out for another set.
Everyone completely vanished after the last set. Rangi was the only one to say, “See you next week.” Tania grabbed her stuff, hauled it all two doors down for some tandoori chicken wraps and half a liter of chilled iced tea, washed up, hauled her equipment onto a tuk tuk, and managed to get everything inside her apartment, despite having to go through two key card doors.
Tania gargled with warm water to maintain her voice, then took a blessedly hot shower and washed out all of the hair goo. Post-shower, she found the hair goo online on her cell phone while drying her hair, ordered pots of the blue and silver wax, and the purple for good measure, and had it delivered. She put on underwear and a nightshirt and fell into bed.
In the morning, Tania made the terrible mistake of emailing the concert footage, completely unedited, to her friends. She was barely through her mango and rice, washed down with another half-gallon of sweet tea, when Kandace and Corinne called. “That Axel guy is dreamy,” said Corrine.
“Not interested,” said Tania. “Plus, he wears a wedding ring.”
“Eww,” said Corinne. “Hands off, I agree.”
“Send pics of your hot boss,” ordered Kandace. “We can't get this whole hair effect thing you're describing by looking at the website. Nice job, by the way. I even want to buy the stuff you have online, and I've got no damn room or need for it.”
“Love the Lita Ford,” opined Corinne.
“That's the raunchiest version of ‘Rocket Queen’ I've ever seen in my damn life,” said Kandace. “And before you threaten me, no, I won't release this particular video into the wild. But, if I did, you'd have to quit your job and become a musician full-time.”
“I happen to like my job,” said Tania. “Plus, not a huge market for Thai hair bands. No, this is enormous amounts of fun, but I do have to remember to do this strange thing called sleeping. In fact, after I get off with you crazy bitches, I'm heading for the pool, then taking a nap.”
“Show us the fake Stratocaster,” said Corrine. Tania turned the volume all the way down on the amp, so the sound was only in the apartment. She played a little bit of “Sweet Child of Mine,” and Corrine and Kandace clapped and cheered. Tania bowed; her friends’ bitchy comments about her impromptu performance for them made her laugh so hard her cheeks and stomach hurt.
Tania said goodbye, put on her tankini, and went out to the pool. She floated awhile, got out and dried off, slathered on the sunblock, and set her phone alarm so she wouldn't broil herself if she fell asleep. She woke up to the alarm, managed to use the key cards correctly to get back to her apartment, took a quick shower, ate a mango and drank some more iced tea, and slept all the way through until the next morning.
Tania woke up ravenous at six in the morning, got ready for work, and did something she normally didn't do. She headed to McDonald's for breakfast. Then, she took her laptop to a co-working space and worked on her private marketing clients’ online marketing needs. She arrived at work, cold strawberry iced tea in hand, and smiled and said hello to everyone. She sat down at her desk and whipped through more work in an hour than she normally did in three, resolutely keeping her hands on the keyboard. Touching her lips in memory of the scorching kiss would be a dead giveaway.
“Did you, what do the Americans say, hang out with your friends in Nimman?” Achara asked Lupe.
Lupe laughed. “I did. I had a little party at a hotel, introduced...I’ll call him Drone. He’s an office drone, needs to meet pretty women. I introduced him to...I’ll call her Real Estate. He’s not bad looking, so it worked.” Achara thought this was romantic. Tania thought it was gossipy and a bit demeaning, but Lupe was so proud of herself and her skill at making introductions. The others talked about school and about buying new scooters with their hard-earned money.
Tania didn't talk about much of anything. Sanur came in, gave Tania a smile, then went directly to his office. He wasn't cold or rude, just a little evasive. Tania decided that her friends were right, and that he was covering his tracks after a terrible onstage heat-of-the-moment misstep and didn’t want an angry holler girl screaming about sexual harassment. But that kiss had been amazing. She came back from a short juice break to find her new helmet under her desk, old clothes inside. That made her laugh.
Tania zipped through more work, took a long lunch, and then she and Lupe were both hit with numerous Spanish-speaking customers in love with the new African line. Tania only managed to keep hydrated and fed because Aat brought her the tea and food she needed.
The only hint Tania had that anyone else at work knew about her onstage antics over the weekend was when Aat whispered in her ear as she was leaving, “I didn't know you could play guitar.” Tania tried not to cringe. No one else said anything to her about it. Tania said goodnight, ate street chicken and noodles on the way home, took a shower, and fell into bed. She fell asleep, her fake Stratocaster right by her bed where she could reach out and touch it in her sleep.
Tania brought the guitar to the orphanage and taught them how math and music intersected. She taught them song lyrics, but nothing quite so risqué as “Rocket Queen,” mostly Beatles tunes, the ones everyone knows and could sing in their sleep.
Then, Tania decided to head down to a practice place close to her apartment, paid for a small room, and played through as many ‘80s tunes as she could remember. She laughed as she stumbled over lyrics and chords, but slowly got her fingers and voice under control. Bit by bit, she found the old mojo coming back. She caught a tuk tuk home, and crashed in bed, still fingering chords as she fell asleep.
Work returned to normal, sometimes manic, sometimes a bit calmer. Sanur kept up his cone of silence and went off on two business trips in quick succession, one in Southeast Asia, one to Brazil with Lupe. Tania decided not to think about what was going on with her boss and pretended that they had the easy chemistry they had before. But there was something a little jagged about them now, a little bit of knowledge the two of them had about each other that they didn't have before. T
hey didn't go out to lunch or dinner anymore, didn't crack little satiric jokes to each other. Tania tried not to drive herself crazy thinking about it and focused on work to pay off her loans and her new sheet music fix.
Tania bought more hard rock outfits with fake leather trim because real leather would suffocate her in the heat and took on a new online marketing client to pay for it. She practiced quietly at home and in full rock-goddess mode nearly every weekend.
Tania bought the bike she had been craving, a used delivery bike in black and red with a box on the back for her amp and cords. She could sling her guitar on her back and learned to zip through traffic despite her heart pounding through her chest and sweating through her gloves. She found a vented summer weight jacket to go with the brain bucket, a full-face helmet in a slick red and gold. She wore jeans and motorcycle boots and gloves with knuckle protectors, smothering herself in the heat. Tania had a job, volunteer work, the apartment, the pool, the workout room, and the band she wanted. She wasn't stupid enough to die in Thai traffic when she finally had it all.
Payoff
Due to a massive amount of work, and travel on Sanur’s part, it was three weeks before Sanur and Tania had another dinner. The rain came down like a waterfall outside. They ate at an Indian restaurant and shared samosas, fried pastries with potato. Since they were catching up, they violated the no-work-talk-at-dinner rule with impunity.
Sanur ate another samosa, then narrowed his eyes at Tania. “I've been to three continents in three weeks, I haven't slept in my own bed in nearly a month. I haven't had delicious cooking like this in a while. I usually grab some street food and run to my next appointment. I feel like I’ve met every artistic collective in every country in the world.”
Tania grinned. “There are over two hundred countries in the world, depending on who you ask. I doubt you have visited them all.”
“I had to hire bodyguards several times, because local people thought I was doing... what, I'm not sure.” Sanur sighed, drained his tea, poured more. “Selling arms? Drugs? I have no idea. I had drug-sniffing dogs sniff the samples I picked up more times than I can count. I took the products I purchased to local shippers and sent them to you, partly not to carry so much around, mostly because I was really tired of wasting so much time having people go through my suitcase and briefcase at airports and border crossings.”
“Lupe and the interns thought it was Christmas with the attitude they had towards the boxes. I had to make Lupe stop taking photo shoots long enough to accept Spanish-speaking calls.” Tania ate the last samosa and was delighted when the butter chicken and garlic naan bread showed up. She was ravenous, having worked through lunch.
Sanur laughed and bowed. “I am so delighted I could be of service. I filled up warehouses from Tanzania to Guyana, got all the tracking software installed, worked on decreasing lost and damaged items, and in general hired many people on this last trip. I met mayors and head people, I received the keys to some villages, and I have personally contacted and visited dozens of orphanages. I personally set up accounts with the greengrocers to have food delivered automatically every day. Several of the children have been hired as runners to carry the food back to the orphanages.”
“I got the list.” Tania paused from tearing off naan bread to pick up her chicken. “Food is a major thing, so your contacts were quite helpful. I made sure that we got cell phone videos of the kids actually eating the food paid for from their sales. I do not want the food to go in the wrong people's mouths.”
Sanur raised his eyebrows at her attention to detail then took some garlic naan. “Thank you.” She inclined her head. “We have already begun clearing the rubble from the property we purchased in Indonesia.” One of Sanur’s other businesses was a housing nonprofit that bought buildings devastated by earthquakes, floods, and other disasters and rebuilt them as low-cost housing with space for local businesses such as gyms, laundromats, and convenience stores on the ground floors in the Thai style. That business was run entirely separately from the artistic one; Sanur used his trips for both businesses.
Sanur put his tea down. “Remember how I said we needed to stay small? You spoke at a school, and now we have eager interns, students, and single parents.”
Tania nodded. After the school speech, many students wanted to work for them. Tania set up an internship program that paid a minimal amount plus food and transportation and allowed students to come in and see how the office was run. Students from the poorest schools competed for the internships. She would have hired more orphans, but their English was so good from her training that they were working at hotels.
Sanur sipped more tea. “You proved me wrong. We can expand but not get too large.”
Tania grinned. “I took Kannika on the Career Day speech. She told the story about finding the artist, the one that sells mirrors with gorgeous frames. She found out he was her father’s friend from the village where they grew up. Now he’s hired people to help him from the village, and Kannika has an honorary uncle! Not a dry eye in the house with that story.”
Sanur smiled. “Yes, I was delighted to hear of her honorary uncle.” He took another sip of tea. “I'm still willing to wear both hats when traveling, but I'm seriously considering handing over the artistic business to you and Lupe. What's your percentage of paying off your loan?”
Tania narrowed her eyes at him. She knew perfectly well he knew everything down to the Thai baht. “The African market that I brought in and run is doing fantastically well. Also, now we have plenty of interns to help so I'm spending less time doing photo shoots and more time doing actual marketing and sales. So, you know that I'm damn near paid off.” Tania took a sip of her mint tea then sucked in a breath. “You were planning on handing over this business all along.”
Sanur ate a bite of his delicious butter chicken. “Finally figured it out?”
“You do realize it gives me all of your headaches. I’m going to have to hire you to travel the world for me or have Lupe do it. The teens are still in school. But we have enough artists, I think. I can only be gone for long weekends, certainly not a week at a time.”
Sanur took some more chicken and sipped his tea. He noticed and approved of how Tania always thought of how to improve their teenagers’ lives. “I can't believe how lucky I was to find you. You have no idea how hard it really is to find such talent. Then you found Lupe, with a perceptive eye for people that is incredibly rare. You listened, you learned, you grew.”
Tania looked Sanur in the eye. She took out her cell phone and put in a number. She divided it by another number and showed him the result. “This is how much our—soon to be my—business is worth. I'm up to eight percent of the gross, but I'll have to sell a kidney to buy half. Lupe isn't in the position to buy anything, because she is still paying off school loans, and she goes out drinking with her friends three or four times a week. Since I don't want to sell a kidney,, does this mean we will do the same thing, where you sell me half the company and I pay you back over time?”
Sanur chewed, watching the whirring behind Tania’s eyes. She sat up straight, put in more numbers. “Remember, I still have to make enough of a living to take time off and travel. I'm also going to have to hire some new people. Or get some more interns.”
Sanur steepled his fingers. “In case you have not noticed, you do the work of three people. You are worth three times the salary I paid you, so subtract all that off the total.”
“You paid for my housing, medical and dental too.”
“Part of the package. The schools you worked for in Korea paid your housing and health and dental insurance, did they not?”
“They did.” Tania sighed. “But you can't say that is standard business practice here.”
“It is when you are hiring someone from overseas. Companies also pay for children to go to school, and you could have been married with three kids. I would have had to pay for all of that, spousal housing, schools for children. You saved me a fortune.”
Tania
snorted. “Yeah, well, I'm taking over someone else's business, making sure it keeps hundreds of people fed and gives them somewhere to sleep at night, no pressure there, so having kids is going to have to wait a bit. Not that I don't want to adopt half the orphanage, but I do have a business to run.”
Sanur felt his heart sing just a bit. She does want children, he thought to himself. He switched his face back to the hard-nosed businessman Tania was expecting to see. “Pay yourself for all of the training you've done. Trainers get extra pay, and you get later-shift pay differentials where you are from, do they not?”
“You do have a point about the training. I've trained every single person there. Plus visiting the school then hiring the interns.” Tania looked some things up on her cell phone and said, “I'm taking off the salary of a full-time trainer. That's pretty much what I've been doing since I got here. So I'm an internet marketing guru, I do the books so the accountant has something other than nonsense to look at, and I'm also the hiring manager and the trainer.”
“You're also the public relations person, and you've completely reworked the website. You're also a new business manager, and have got us working in completely different continents, not just completely different countries.” Sanur smiled slowly at Tania. “Now, pay yourself all those salaries for the eleven months you've been here. How much do you actually owe me?” Sanur finished off his half of the butter chicken, knowing that Tania would scrupulously calculate a number that would be fair and reasonable.
