Bar Girl

by David Thompson

  She had meant it too. Apple would learn very quickly. The rest of the girls all looked upon her as second in command already. It would be an easy step to make her the boss.

  Apple was, by far, the most intelligent of the bar girls. She understood Siswan and often adopted her approach when dealing with the farangs, and the girls.

  ‘Will I be allowed to change my uniform?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course. You can’t wear the same as the girls. That wouldn’t work at all,’ Siswan answered, with a smile.

  ‘I’d like to wear a dress. Nothing too fancy. Maybe a little black number, or a blue one. Dark blue.’ Apple was lost in her own thoughts.

  Siswan left her to it. The responsibility of her new position would sink in eventually. It wouldn’t all be about what colour dress to wear.

  Now she had to get down to the post office before it closed. She left the bar just as the rest of the girls turned up for work. They all gave her a wai as she walked past them and she smiled to each in return. She had to admit, they were looking good. All smiles and laughter. No wonder the bar was doing so well. It was all about the girls.

  When she had first heard about the bar she wanted to buy, she had gone to take a look. The girls there were tired, bored and dressed like tarts. They lacked sparkle. Lacked anything that would attract anything more than the most tight fisted farangs to the bar.

  She knew what was needed. There were two girls that had to go this time. Two who shared the leadership over the others. Even Tam hadn’t been that stupid. There could only ever be one boss.

  The new bar had too many girls anyway. Siswan had counted eight sat outside the doors looking hostile towards potential customers. She couldn’t understand them. They needed customers to make money but resented them for being able to pay.

  She’d seen that before. Girls who went with farangs, talked sweet to them, flirted with them so willingly and then, as soon as the farang was out of earshot, told all and sundry about how inadequate he was, how much of a ‘cheap charlie’ he was and how much she hated being with him.

  She smiled at the term ‘cheap charlie’. The actual translation was ‘ki neow’. It meant that the farang had money but wouldn’t spend it. Some of the farangs were like that. She would be the first to concede that point. But not half as many as the locals. They were the real ‘cheap charlies’. The locals spent all their time fleecing the farangs. Some of them, like herself, made a huge amount of money, but they certainly didn’t spend it.

  The jet ski and speedboat rides were the biggest con of all. During the times when she could walk along the beach, she would sometimes occupy her mind by working out how much the beach boys were making.

  She counted how many times a single jet ski was rented out. Averaged it over a day, a week, a month and, finally, a year. Allowed for rainy days. Allowed for the low season, the high season, maintenance, repairs, even the cost of the actual machine itself. Then she counted out how many jet skis there were. The total for the year was staggering. Almost sixteen million a year in clear profit. And that was without taking into account the speedboats, the parascending and the banana rides.

  The beach boys were making a fortune and yet they were so tight with their money it made farangs pale into comparison. No, the real cheap charlies were the locals. Take herself as an example. She lived in a small room because it was cheap. Only used motorbike taxis when she had to, and that was mostly at night. She walked everywhere else. Spent as little as possible on clothes, or anything else she considered a luxury, and never bought a drink.

  At least she had a reason for saving her money. A reason for wanting to earn more. With the new bar up and running, her and Mike would soon be making a lot. Real money. Serious money. That was what she needed. A lot of it. When she reached the post office she paid for a registered delivery for Ped’s letter. She didn’t trust the regular post. Too many letters went missing. Especially letters containing money or cheques. It was a well known fact throughout the country. If there was money involved, the mail went missing.

  She walked back to the bar and thought about Ped. Wondered what she was up to. Her letters had only really talked about Siswan’s parents not about her cousin. It would be good to speak with her by telephone. She could find out a lot more.

  *****

  Over the next few weeks Siswan found herself very busy. As soon as Mike had signed all the papers, and they had passed over the money, the real work began.

  She spent the first few days getting the place cleaned. The toilets had been disgusting and she called in building workers to demolish them and erect new ones. She had the place redecorated and new signage put up outside.

  She wanted to call the place ‘Mike’s Too’ but he insisted the name be ‘Swan’s Bar’ as a take on her name. She laughed at the idea but went along with it, just the same.

  She converted the back of the bar into a pool playing area and installed four tables with proper lighting and scoreboards. The upstairs was converted into a kitchen and she asked Rican to find another cook who was as good as she was.

  She had the old bar ripped out and a new, wooden one, installed with brand new optics and mirrors. She arranged with two breweries to have draught beers installed as well as bottled. A small room at the back sufficed as the cellar and, although it meant the draymen had to cart fresh barrels through the bar each week, she felt sure that her customers would welcome fresh beer straight from the keg.

  New fridges had to be obtained and fitted into the rear of the serving area behind the bar and two new tills, complete with electronic software to account for every drink sold, were slotted in where the customers could easily see them.

  She left nothing to chance. Even the lampshades she had installed matched the décor. When she had finished she looked around the place with pride. It looked good. Welcoming. There was only one thing left to sort out. The bar girls. Without them, the place would never take off. No matter how good it looked.

  She knew of a bar that been built just a year before. The owner, a farang, had spent a fortune on the place. It had every conceivable luxury. Silk cushions to lounge on. Amazing cocktails. Spectacular lighting and the longest, most beautiful, marble bar anyone had ever seen. It failed. No one went there because the farang had a local wife who didn’t want him to employ bar girls. No honey, no money!

  Six months after it had opened, it closed. A local man had eventually bought it, at a fraction of its true value, and turned it into a disco. With lots of girls. It was making a small fortune.

  Siswan had deliberately ignored the girls whilst she had been carrying out the renovations. She still paid them because she wanted to keep them there. Get them talking. The best advertising she could get, and the cheapest, was to have the girls talking.

  They would talk to their friends. Their friends would talk to their friends. Soon, everyone would know about the new place. Other girls would be interested. They would come to take a look. When they did, Siswan would be able to pick out the ones she wanted.

  A few had already been to take a look. None that Siswan wanted as yet. Friends of the existing girls. She wanted fresh blood. New girls that could be easily moulded. They would come. They always came.

  Eventually, when everything was finished and she was ready to open the doors to customers, she had sorted out the girls she wanted to work for her. Only one of the existing girls remained. The rest were dismissed without any argument.

  She took them all down to Mike’s Bar. When they peered through the doors they saw a bar in full swing. Girls, who looked fresh and sexy, wandered around taking care of customers who, in turn, were laughing and enjoying themselves.

  ‘This is a bar, girls. A real bar,’ she said to them. ‘The girls get two days off a week, earn anywhere between eighteen to twenty-five thousand a month and, best of all, they really enjoy themselves. Interested?’r />
  There was a general murmur of ‘yes’ and ‘of course’ from the six girls stood around her. She noted who said what.

  She saw Apple detach herself from a customer and walk towards them. She looked amazing in her brand new, black dress. The hem wasn’t too short but still short enough to be sexy. Siswan could imagine her sitting on a bar stool. She’d have every pair of male eyes fastened on her legs.

  ‘Hello, Miss Siswan,’ Apple smiled and gave a wai to her boss. ‘What’s happening?’ she added, nodding towards the girls.

  ‘The girls needed to see a proper bar in action, Apple. What do you think, reckon we can get more customers than you?’ Siswan laughed.

  Apple turned and looked in at the bar. The place was heaving. Music blared out from the big speakers and farang men and women danced and sang along with the rock and roll tune.

  ‘Well, I don’t know, Miss Siswan.’ Apple laughed. ‘If anyone can beat us it’ll be you, but, even so, you’re going to have a real fight on your hands. We won’t give up easily.’

  Siswan smiled and turned to her new entourage. ‘Well, what do you think girls? Are you up to the challenge?’

  The girls smiled. Yes, they were up for it. Their bar was bigger, newer and had more to offer. Plus, they had Siswan with them. Yes! Damn right they were up for it.

  ‘Okay, Apple. Give us a month to get warmed up and then we’ll compare total turnover for the second. The winners get a free makeover and hairdo, okay?’ Siswan said.

  ‘Right you are, Miss Siswan. I could do with a visit to a spa!’ Apple laughed. ‘I’ll let the girls know.’

  Siswan looked at her with a slightly surprised expression. She very quickly concealed it with a smile.

  ‘Well, girls. You know what’s at stake. Lets go and open up, shall we?’

  The girls almost ran back to Swan’s Bar. They were going to work harder than they had ever worked before. Just before Siswan followed them, she turned to Apple.

  ‘Well done. You played that well,’ she smiled. ‘I didn’t expect you to tell them it included a spa visit though.’

  ‘You did tell me to make it sound real, Miss Siswan.’ Apple laughed. ‘And anyway, if we win, I fancy a day at a spa. Either way, you’ll be paying.’

  ‘Yes, but we agreed that the Swan would win.’ Siswan looked at her protégé.

  ‘Oh, did we? I don’t remember that. Oops, sorry.’ Apple smiled, unconvincingly.

  So, Siswan thought to herself, a mutiny in the ranks. Right, if that’s the way you want it, that’s the way you’ll get it, my girl.

  ‘Fair enough, Apple.’ She laughed. ‘And, as a side bet, a new outfit for you or me as the winner? Paid for by the loser?’

  ‘You’re on!’ Apple said, and held out her hand to accept the bet.

  That evening went well enough. Siswan had a month to get the girls prepared before the real challenge began. She reckoned she would be able to do it. They were young, eager and ready to give it their all.

  When her phone rang she expected it to be Apple backing down. Maybe a new outfit had been a little too much for her to expect. It wasn’t Apple though. It was Ped.

  ‘I bought the phone,’ her cousin said, as soon as Siswan answered.

  ‘It’s good to hear your voice. How are you?’ Siswan laughed at her cousin’s excitement. She hadn’t changed much by the sound of it.

  ‘I’m fine. How are you? I got a job!’

  The excitement in Ped’s voice reminded Siswan of her childhood. Reminded her of the times she and her cousin had played together, talked together. Before her mind started remembering other things, she tried to shut the thoughts down.

  ‘What job?’ she asked. ‘Did you finish school?’

  ‘Yes, I finished high school and I got a job in the local market. It doesn’t pay much but it’s good fun,’ Ped told her.

  The two girls talked for several minutes about how Ped was, how Siswan was, what they had both been doing. What they were doing now. Siswan didn’t tell her too much. Just that she was working as a cashier in a bar. Earning enough to send money home.

  ‘How are my parents?’ Siswan asked.

  ‘Your mother is better, Siswan. She has started going to the temple again. Last week she even spent a few hours working with me,’ Ped told her.

  Siswan felt a sudden pang of loss, of regret, that she wasn’t there to see her mother getting better. She would have liked to visit the temple with her. She recalled their last conversation.

  ‘And my father?’ she asked.

  ‘He isn’t well, Siswan. Not well at all. I’m not sure you would even recognise him now.’

  Siswan didn’t feel anything when Ped spoke. No pang of loss or regret. Nothing. Her only thought was why he was taking so long to die.

  ‘What about Bak, Ped?’ she asked. ‘Have you seen him?’

  ‘No. He left the village a few years ago. No one has seen him since.’ Her cousin’s voice betrayed the fact that she didn’t care.

  ‘Did he tell you where he was going?’ She didn’t know why she asked.

  ‘No. He came around one day. Started threatening me to give him some money. He was drunk. My father told him to leave. That was the last we saw of him,’ Ped replied.

  ‘Okay. I’ll send you some more money soon. Thank you, Ped. I’m glad I had you to turn to,’ Siswan told her.

  ‘You take care of yourself, Siswan. I hope to see you soon.’

  ‘That would be lovely, Ped. I’ll call you.’

  When Siswan hung up she had to sit down. Her head felt light. She felt a little dizzy. She was breathing heavily. That was the first time in five years that she had actually spoken to anyone from her village. Five years since she last spoke to Ped. Years since she had mentioned Bak’s name.

  Memories came flooding into her mind. Memories she didn’t want. She had tried so hard to forget everything but now they returned and threatened to engulf her. She could never forget. She had hardened herself against feeling sorry for herself. Kept herself busy all the time so that she wouldn’t be able to wallow in her own self pity.

  She had managed very well for the last five years. Managed to avoid the memories that lurked in her mind. Managed to block most of them out. Every time she faltered, every time the past tried to make itself known, she had managed to clear her mind through hard work. By keeping herself busy, her mind occupied.

  Now the thoughts of what Bak had done to her, what he had forced her to do in the cane fields, came charging towards the front of her mind. A huge wave of emotion swept over her. A wave so big it seemed she would never be able to overcome it. It threatened to engulf her.

  She sat there, hoping for an end to the thoughts, fighting to overcome the feelings of remorse. Trying to cling to the present. The present that she had made for herself. She had chosen her own destiny. The long road had led her here. To this now. This moment. She had overcome every obstacle in her path but she hadn’t expected this.

  The telephone had seemed such a good idea. So easy. So much simpler than writing letters and trusting to the post. But she hadn’t expected this reaction. Ped’s voice, just as she remembered it, opened up doors in her mind that she thought she had locked forever. Now she realised, realised for the first time, the past was always there. She could never run away from it. It was a part of her. Made her what she was. Where would she be now, if it hadn’t been for her past? She had to accept these feelings. To learn from them. Allow them to sweep through her mind. There was no point in trying to block them out. That would be like refusing the use of her arms, or legs. The thoughts were a part of who she was, a part of her very being.

  Her breathing slowed. The dizziness receded.

  That was how to deal with the memories. Allow them their freedom. Face them as they played out the past. Let them come, let th
em run through her mind. And then, when she accepted them for what they were, learned from them, allowed them to show her everything they contained, she could forget them. Like a movie at a cinema. She had to watch it all before she could forget it and move on.

  Chapter 8

  After the police had removed Sood’s body from the beach, Siswan had walked away. She had been shocked at the sight of her friend. Shocked by the wounds inflicted upon her body. The gash across her throat had been the worst. It had looked so out of place. A raw red wound across such a soft, smooth neck.

  She had been shocked but not surprised. She had known she wouldn’t see her friend again. And she hadn’t. Only a lifeless husk that had once contained a soul.

  Siswan walked back along the beach. The waves continued their rhythmic song and kept rolling in. They had discarded the body of her friend. Didn’t want her. It seemed as if no one had ever wanted her.

  The determination in her mind showed in the way Siswan walked along the beach that day. When she reached the far end, she turned and walked back again. Thoughts ran through her young mind as she paced.

  To do what she wanted to do was going to take money. A lot of money. She didn’t know how much, exactly, but she would find out, she told herself. That was the key. Knowledge. Learn the ways of the farang, Song had told her.

  In her mind it was all quite simple. She needed money. The farangs had money. They came here, to her country, to spend it. All she had to do was make them spend it with her. The first thing she needed to find out was what is was they wanted. What they really expected from their holiday in the sun.

  She already knew that some came just for sex. What Sood had shown her proved that farang men were no different to the boys in the sugar cane fields. No matter how old they were. She wasn’t going down that route.

  When she arrived back to where she had started, Siswan walked up the beach to the shade of the palm trees. The sun was high and the temperature had soared. She felt glad that she wasn’t working in the laundry. The heat in the steel shed would be almost unbearable.