My altered, anti-Angeles mood had only increased since the previous evening, exacerbated by the fact I had overslept and was running about forty minutes late. So instead of walking up and seeing what was going on, I went directly to my little office in back where I stayed for fifteen minutes before reappearing.
Once in the bar, there were things to do. A couple of the girls wanted to take a few weeks off to go back to their provinces. Even when I was in a bad mood, I never denied the girls their wish to go home.
Then Nelly came to me with a guy already lined up who wanted to pay her bar fine. She was quickly becoming our new superstar—a spinner superstar. Some guys would say those were the best kind. I went through my routine of making sure she really wanted to go, but knew before I even said anything what her answer would be.
Wilma was still pissed off at Rochelle for ruining things with a guy she’d had lined up a couple nights before. Jocelyn and Helen were having their period—“mens,” they called it—but didn’t want me to tell any guy and hurt their chances at being bar fined. That way, they would at least earn their share of the bar fine, then wait until they got to the guy’s hotel to reveal their condition.
Most of the time, if this happened, the guy would send the girl home. For the girls, that meant money, no sex and early to bed, unless, of course, the guy came back to The Lounge and complained. If that happened, we always gave a refund, and that meant no cash for the girl or the bar. I probably should have insisted the girls be honest upfront, but where do you draw the line between lying to someone so they’d pay for a service they wouldn’t receive, and denying the girls a chance to make some pesos without having to spread their legs?
It was things like this, the stuff you faced only in Angeles, that would always push me to the edge. It was being surrounded by hundreds of beautiful, sexy, young, bitchy, catty, innocent, manipulative, desperate, greedy, hopeless and hopeful women every single day. It was hanging out with tired, fat, old men like Dieter and Dandy Doug, or young über-studs like Josh and Scotty P who thought they were living out a porn star’s dream. It was dealing with the visitors, the customers, the goddamn sex tourists, and all the bullshit they brought with them. But without them, without their dollars, euros, pounds and yen, there would be no Angeles. And if you took a vote—of the girls, the guys, the nearby businesses—no one would want that. Because sex was easy. It was money that was hard to come by in the Philippines.
Sometimes, even now, it’s hard to believe I ever let myself get sucked into that whole world. Yet, when I’m in one of those lost moments, the ones that happen while I’m riding in a taxi alone or waiting quietly at a restaurant for a friend or staring at the screen of my computer, fingers paused between keystrokes, I find myself wishing I was back there, if only for a night. It doesn’t last long, but the thought does come. Even when we turn a page, find that new path, temptation never completely goes away.
So as I moved through the bar, dealing with the girls’ problems, avoiding my friends—not because I was mad at them, but because I didn’t want to subject them to my foul mood—I wondered, not for the first time, how long I would be able to do this. The problem was, if I did stop, I didn’t know what I would do next. I was still too much in the clutches, too much in Angeles. I was Doc. I was Papa Jay. All the girls knew me. I guess in my own way I was a superstar.
Finally, I made my way over to the bar where Isabel and Larry were sitting on stools on the customer side, and Cathy was standing behind the bar in her usual place.
“Busy night,” Larry said.
I grunted my agreement. I knew he’d been watching me make my rounds.
Cathy set a beer on the counter. A San Miguel, I noticed. I guess my mood didn’t rate any of the stash Larry had brought me. I picked up the bottle and drained half of it before stopping.
“Better?” Larry asked.
“Slightly.”
“You get like this often?”
“Not too often,” Cathy answered for me. “But often enough.”
I tilted my bottle toward Cathy in a mock salute, then finished the rest of the liquid inside. “Another,” I said as I set the bottle back down.
“Me, too,” Larry said, pointing to his own empty bottle. “Isabel?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“How about you, Cathy?” Larry asked.
She shrugged. “Why not?”
Before she could retrieve our drinks, Larry put a hand out to stop her. “You have any champagne?”
“Of course,” Cathy said.
“Grab a bottle.” He glanced at Isabel. “And four glasses.”
The first thing that went through my mind was that Larry had asked Isabel to marry him. They’d only actually been in each other’s physical presence less than seventy-two hours, but I’d seen it before, even after just one night together, and it had never ended pretty. The guy always lost interest, and the girl, after bragging to her friends that she would soon be moving away from the Philippines, would then be forced to make up some lie to cover the fact her departure date never arrived.
I liked Larry. I thought he was pretty smart. I even liked Isabel and Larry together. It seemed, I don’t know, right. But I was going to have to force myself to reassess if he did an idiotic thing like proposing.
Larry took the bottle from Cathy as soon as she brought it over. He worked the cork loose, then aimed the barrel of the bottle at the ceiling above the dance floor. He pushed the cork until it shot out of the end, arcing through the air and striking inches away from where one of the poles was attached.
The attention of the room immediately turned toward us as champagne spewed out of the neck of the bottle and onto the floor. The other three members of my party laughed excitedly, while the only thing I could think about was that someone was going to have to clean up the mess.
Soon our glasses were filled, and Larry, careful not to spill any more of the liquid, handed one to each of us. Once we were all taken care of, he picked up his own glass and raised it in preparation of a toast.
“To seeing friends again,” he said.
We clinked our glasses and took a drink. I even managed a smile. After all, no matter what mood I was in, the perpetual party had to go on.
Larry raised his glass again, so we all did the same. “And to vacations,” he said. “For all of us.”
Again we clinked glasses, but as I started to take a drink, I realized the rest of them were looking at me, with those same large grins they had plastered on their faces when I’d arrived at work.
“What?” I asked, setting my glass down.
“You said you needed to get away,” Larry said.
I looked at him, not quite following.
He took an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to me. Inside was an airplane ticket. I took a look at the destination.
“Boracay?” I asked.
“I hear it’s gorgeous there,” he said.
“I can’t take this.”
“My treat,” he said.
“Thanks, but—”
“It’s too late,” he said, cutting me off. “Not refundable. The hotel’s paid for, too.”
I wasn’t really sure how to react. Did I want to go? Hell, yes. And the fact I didn’t have to pay was a definite bonus. “Why?”
“Larry said it’s because you are always so nice to me,” Isabel said.
“I don’t treat you any different than the rest of the girls.”
I heard Cathy exhale, exasperated. “Just say thank you.”
I looked at Larry, the tension that had been knotted between my shoulders easing slightly. “Thank you.”
“There is a catch,” Larry said.
I looked at him, waiting for the hammer to fall.
“Isabel and I are going, too,” he said. “But you don’t have to hang out with us. Well, maybe me sometimes when she gets sick of me.” He paused. “Is that all right?”
“Sure,” I said. The thing about going on vacation by yourself, the first day w
as fine, but then it got boring. Having a friend along to do things with might not be so bad.
“Larry said I could bring a friend, too,” Isabel said.
“Really?” I said, suddenly knowing where this was going. I turned and looked at Cathy. “Any idea who that might be?”
“Don’t you get any funny ideas, Doc. I’m going along to hang out with Isabel.”
Another glass of champagne and I was almost feeling my normal self again. Did it bother me that Cathy was coming, too? A little, I guess, but not much. Sexual tension had been building between us for a long time. I guess I was a little annoyed it was Larry’s actions that would make me face it.
A second bottle of champagne was ordered. Around us, the bar was filling up with other customers looking for a fun evening.
I didn’t see Mariella come in, so I didn’t know how long she had been there, but suddenly I looked up and she was standing just outside our little circle.
“So, is this a celebration?” she asked, her smile showing more teeth than you would have thought possible.
“Mariella!” Isabel said happily, her voice full of affection.
As the two cousins hugged, Mariella glanced over at Cathy. To her credit, Cathy hadn’t disappeared this time.
“I tried to find you last night,” Mariella said, as she and Isabel parted. “Did Papa Jay tell you?”
“Hadn’t had the chance yet,” I said.
“That’s okay, that’s okay,” Mariella said in that way she had that always seemed to mean the opposite. She turned her attention to Larry. “So, Isabel, is this him?”
Isabel leaned into Larry, her smile genuine and joyful. “This is Larry,” she said, and then to Larry, “This is my cousin Mariella. I told you about her, remember?”
“Sure,” Larry said. He stood up and held out his hand. “It’s great to meet you.”
Mariella bypassed the hand and went straight for a hug and a kiss on each cheek. To me, her hug seemed to linger a bit longer than was necessary, and was a bit tighter than a first greeting should have been. By the look on Larry’s face, I got the feeling he was thinking the same thing.
“Isabel talks about you all the time,” Mariella said. “Why you wait so long before you come back?” She slapped him lightly on his arm. Again, her hand seemed to linger there a moment too long.
Larry laughed. “I came as soon as I could.” He put an arm around Isabel and pulled her close. “But I agree, I wish it could have been sooner.”
“She tells me you have a very successful business. That’s great.”
“I do okay,” Larry said. I could tell it was not a topic he was comfortable talking about.
“Oh, more than okay, I think,” Mariella said. “Can I have a glass of champagne, too? Or is this a private party?” She laughed.
“Of course,” Isabel said. “Cathy, are there any more glasses?”
Cathy, her pasted-on smile unchanged, went and got another glass without a word. Larry filled it and handed it to Mariella.
“Are we celebrating something?” Mariella asked before taking a drink.
“We’re going on a trip,” Isabel told her.
There was the slightest hesitation before Mariella spoke again. “Really? Where is he taking you?”
“Boracay,” Isabel said. “I’ve never been there. I can’t believe it.”
“That’s great, that’s great.” There was another one of those split-second pauses. “You’ll have a great time. Of course, I’ve been there many times, so if you want any tips, just ask.”
“That would be wonderful,” Isabel said.
“Well, then, to the happy couple’s first trip together,” Mariella said raising her glass.
“Actually,” Isabel said in all innocence, “Larry’s taking all four of us.”
Mariella’s smile faltered. I could see her struggling to maintain her composure. “That’s great, that’s great,” she said, looking at each of us, her smile now larger than it had been when she first joined us. Then, as if to emphasize how she really felt, she added through clenched teeth, “That’s great.”
• • •
Mariella didn’t stay much longer that evening. Though Isabel begged her to remain, she said she had friends she was meeting. Isabel was the only one not relieved to see her go. Even Larry appeared to understand what Mariella was. It was in the way his eyes narrowed as he watched her walk out, like he was scrutinizing her. But Larry wasn’t dumb. He could see the admiration Isabel had for her cousin, so he said nothing.
For Cathy, it was almost like she had been holding her breath during Mariella’s entire visit. I knew how much willpower it took her to stand her ground. It wasn’t fear that had driven her out of sight the night before, it was hatred that had been held in check only by her respect for Isabel. Otherwise, there would have been a good chance of Cathy diving across the bar and strangling Mariella the minute she saw her. If I were her, I probably would have.
I think I’d been a papasan for only a month when it all went down. Cathy had been working as a bartender for three years already, starting not long after her eighteenth birthday. At some point during those years before I arrived on the scene, like Isabel, she had become involved with a foreigner. As I’ve said, Angeles is cyclical. Everything has happened before, and it’ll all happen again. Cathy’s guy’s name was Manus and he was from Stockholm, Sweden. He was a nice guy, maybe not quite the caliber of a Larry, but still worthy of Cathy’s affections. He made several trips a year, and each time would spend most of his stay with her.
With Cathy and Manus, there was never talk of the future. If he had asked her to go back with him, she would have jumped at the chance. She didn’t love him, but she did care for him. She told me once he was too old for her to fall in love with. He was somewhere just south of sixty at the time, with grown kids back home older than Cathy.
But love was not a prerequisite of marriage for the Filipinas who worked on Fields. It was enough for them if the guy loved them, and seemed like he would take care of them no matter what. That was another one of those fun Angeles contradictions—disgrace yourself in the eyes of your country as a whore, and maybe find someone who would take you away and provide you with more status than you could have ever achieved any other way. So there was no room for the girls to let their own feelings of love or lack of love get in the way.
The mistake Cathy made was confiding everything to Mariella.
Mariella had this way of making the girls feel like she was their best friend, that if they had any problems, they should go to her. But then, if the opportunity presented itself and she was in the mood, she’d sell them out. Usually it was to get something for herself, but not always. If a girl appeared to be getting more than she was, such as a decent guy and relationship that was working—like Cathy had achieved—Mariella wouldn’t wait for an opportunity. She’d make it happen.
Manus hadn’t seen through Mariella. Because he knew Cathy trusted her, he decided he could trust her, too. He told her Cathy had become very special to him, and he had decided to ask her to come live with him in Sweden. Mariella had no doubt sounded supportive, but at some point, whether in that first conversation or soon after, she let it slip that Cathy had told her only a few weeks earlier that she didn’t really love him. He didn’t believe it at first, but I’m sure as the hours passed, doubt began to set in. After all, this was Angeles, and as a seasoned veteran, he knew deep down it was all illusion.
That night he bar fined Cathy and took her to The Pit Stop. While they were eating dinner, he asked her in a calm voice, “Cathy, do you love me?”
“Of course I do,” she said automatically.
The intent of his question didn’t even register with her at first. But when his benign, silent stare was his only response, she realized something was up.
“Why you ask?” she said.
“Because I think maybe you don’t.”
“I said I do, so I do. Okay?”
Again he gave her that half smile, a
longing for what had been, or what he had thought had been. “Mariella said you told her you don’t.”
Cathy’s eyes opened wide, and in that moment she realized two things. The first: she’d been betrayed. The second, and more immediately damaging: she had not hidden the look of fear that had flashed across her face. The look told Manus everything he needed to know, that Mariella had been right, and Cathy had not been telling him the truth.
So what had originally been the night Manus would have offered Cathy a new life abroad, instead became the night he gave Cathy back her same old life on Fields. Of course, she didn’t know what he had originally intended to do. That bit of information was delivered later by Mariella, who, practically in the same breath, denied ever telling Manus that Cathy didn’t love him.
It fell to me to pick up the pieces, one of my first counseling jobs in Angeles. It took a while before Cathy trusted me, but when she finally did, she told me everything.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I remember that trip to Boracay as one of the highlights of my time in the Philippines. I hadn’t expected that. In fact, I was almost dreading getting on the plane with the others. A vacation was something I absolutely needed, but, by the time we were leaving Angeles, I had circled back to thinking the only remedy to the tension that had overtaken me was a vacation alone.
We left early in a van Larry hired to take us to Ninoy Aquino International Airport in Manila. From there, the flight was an hour south to Kalibo on Panay Island. Larry had been told that the bus from Kalibo to Caticlan was air-conditioned. It wasn’t. Something wrong with the compressor, the driver said, as he handed out cold beers to help take our mind off the heat. From Caticlan, we took a boat across to Boracay Island.
Larry had booked us at the Royal Boracay Beach Resort. He’d been considerate enough to get three rooms, but mischievous enough to make sure Cathy’s room and mine were next to each other.
We spent the rest of the afternoon hanging around the pool, drinking margaritas, and, at least in my case, dozing off every now and then. Dinner was also at the hotel, then at Isabel’s suggestion, we went out dancing.
The Pull of Gravity Page 11
