Bar Girl

by David Thompson

  Siswan couldn’t help remembering the handsome face of the farang Lon had been with the night before. Had he done something? What could he have done?

  Mike stopped them both at the entrance to the ward.

  ‘It’s not good,’ he told them. ‘Be prepared.’

  When they entered they saw Lon lying on the first bed they came to. A tube ran from her nose to a respirator stood beside the bed. Her arms were covered in bandages and a tube connected her left one to a bag of blood hanging from a stand.

  Her face was a mass of bruises and small cuts. Her eyes, although closed, were swollen and red. The lids looked as though they had been burned.

  The white sheet that covered her body had slipped off slightly, revealing a cut and bruised leg. A uniformed police officer sat in a chair at her side.

  ‘What happened?’ Apple was the first to find her voice.

  With a nod of his head Mike alluded to the officer who stood before he spoke to them.

  ‘It may be better to talk outside,’ he told them.

  Before turning, Siswan glanced once more at the face of Lon. She remembered such a pretty girl, a girl who laughed and smiled. Not this. Not a face that looked so much like the dead face of her father.

  Outside in the corridor the police officer spoke succinctly and quietly. He told them all that he knew and what he knew made Siswan feel sick to the stomach. In her mind she pictured the dead face of Sood. Cuts had covered her face. Bruises had revealed where she had been beaten. The open gash around her neck testament to the way she had died. But even those wounds, those vicious signs of a brutal attack, had not been as bad as what she was being told. What she had just seen.

  Only once before had she known of an attack on a bar girl. Once, in all the years she had worked the bars. That had been different. She hadn’t really known the girl that well. Hadn’t thought of her as one of her girls.

  As the officer spoke, her mind cast back to the last time something like this had happened. The last time a girl got more than she bargained for from a farang.

  Chapter 12

  The evening had started quietly enough. Nong had taken the night off, so Siswan opened the bar at six and made an offering to the monks table herself. She prayed that the evening would bring good fortune to the bar and plenty of customers.

  When the girls turned up at ten there were already two farangs sat drinking cold beers. Joy and Nok homed in on them as soon as they got there.

  ‘Hello. What your name?’ Joy asked the first of them.

  Siswan watched as the girls flirted, joked and cajoled with the farangs. She had spent the last hour talking politely with them. They had been surprised to discover that she could speak good English and had been asking her questions about living in her country. That changed as soon as the girls arrived.

  Siswan didn’t understand the girls attitude towards the tourists. Sure, she knew they wanted to make money. They all did. But it was the way they went about it. They didn’t so much charm the men, as attack them.

  She remembered what she had learned from watching the beach traders. The farangs preferred to buy from those that didn’t push too hard. Those that didn’t try to force them into buying something. It was the same with the girls. The ones that launched into an all fronts attack were seldom the ones that went home with an attractive farang. They usually ended up with none at all or, at the very least, the ugliest or drunkest.

  Siswan had already learned that the farangs liked to window shop for a while. They liked to stand back and look at the goods they were being offered before they bought.

  To the local men it didn’t matter so much. They just wanted sex. Short time. The farangs wanted more.

  The two men smiled and joked during the onslaught but Siswan noticed the signs of disinterest before the girls did. It was in their body language. The smile of one was a little strained. He raised an eyebrow to his friend who, in turn, nodded almost imperceptibly to the check bin.

  It was a shame. She had been enjoying their conversation. Siswan had been in the bar almost two years now. She’d learned to speak with the customers as though they were people instead of just money machines. She enjoyed their company. Had made a few friends, a few regulars.

  The two farangs, who were now calling for their bill, were new to the country. Perhaps later, after they got used to the ways of the girls, they would come back. Be more susceptible. Siswan doubted it. Joy and Nok were too pushy. Too forceful in their attempts at getting a drink.

  Siswan smiled to the two men as she handed them their bill. A smile of apology.

  ‘Thanks, Siswan. Nice to meet you,’ one of them pointedly told her.

  ‘Maybe we’ll see you again,’ the other one said.

  ‘I’d like that. Thank you for coming.’ She offered them a wai as they walked away from the bar.

  ‘Why do you do that, Siswan?’ Joy asked. ‘They didn’t even leave a tip.’

  ‘No, they didn’t. But they came, bought a few beers and they are customers,’ she replied.

  It was a waste of time. The girls just didn’t get it. They probably never would.

  ‘They were sticky shits,’ Nok said in distaste. ‘Didn’t even buy us a drink.’ Siswan looked at the drug addicted girl. A black sleeveless tee shirt. A pair of denim shorts that left nothing to the imagination. Too much makeup. Her hair unkempt and lacklustre. She looked a mess. The drugs gave her deep dark circles below her eyes. Her mouth seldom smiled. She smoked cigarettes by the dozen and, Siswan was sure, didn’t shower often enough. Joy wasn’t much better.

  ‘They’re only farangs, Siswan,’ Joy said. ‘Why do you show them respect?’ They’d had the same discussions many times. The girls had their view and she had hers. She didn’t tell them that the two farangs had bought her three drinks that evening. Two of which she hadn’t needed to pour.

  ‘Just tab us for it, Siswan,’ they’d laughingly told her. ‘You don’t need to drink it.’

  Siswan just couldn’t understand why it was that the girls thought it was all about the sex. Admittedly, a lot of the time it was, but not all the time.

  The western men liked a bit of a chase. A bit of a game. They knew they could just buy a woman. They all knew that. They weren’t stupid. But that didn’t mean they didn’t enjoy the fantasy of actually wooing one. The make believe that, somehow, they had managed to pull a beautiful, sexy, young and, above all, willing, girl from the bar. It was all about the game. Sometimes the farangs played it better than the girls.

  Siswan could see how it worked. Could tell when a man was genuinely interested in a girl and when he wasn’t. The signs were obvious.

  ‘Why don’t you go with a farang, Siswan?’ Mai asked her. ‘Then you’d know what a bunch of sex maniacs they are.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Joy added. ‘Go with one. Then you’d know.’

  Siswan just looked at them as they wandered to the corner to sit and chat amongst themselves. She didn’t care what they thought. She wasn’t going to go with any men. Farang or otherwise.

  She overheard Mai telling the others that she was late. She should have started her period a week ago and was worried that she was pregnant.

  It was one of the fears of working the bars. The worst was HIV, but getting pregnant ran a close second. Sometimes a condom split or the farang didn’t like wearing one. Siswan could never understand that.

  Very often the girls complained that a farang had insisted on not wearing a condom and the girl had to take the morning after pill. It made them sick and very few could work the following night. She didn’t understand the farangs either. Condoms protected against disease.

  When Siswan had first started working in the bar, she’d been puzzled that the girls managed to work every day of the month. In the end she’d asked Nong about it.

  ‘They use
the sponge,’ Nong answered.

  ‘What sponge?’ Siswan asked.

  Nong had gone to her handbag, taken out a small, oval shaped sponge. It looked a bit like the one Siswan used to apply foundation except that it was slightly conical in appearance.

  ‘What do you do with it?’ she asked.

  ‘When you have a period, you push it inside,’ Nong told her. ‘It stops the blood for long enough. The farang doesn’t know the difference.’

  Siswan had been shocked. Shocked that the girls would go to such lengths to continue working. To continue earning.

  Even now, even though Mai was concerned about her late period, she was still in the bar. Still willing to work.

  Three farangs were approaching the bar. The girls all moved towards them. Smiled at them.

  ‘Welcome!’ they called in their long, drawn out, sing-song manner.

  ‘Welcome!’

  The farangs allowed themselves to be drawn in. Siswan recognised one of them. He’d been there a few times before.

  ‘Hello, Siswan,’ he smiled at her, as he took a stool.

  ‘Hello, Steve,’ she gave a wai. ‘Haven’t seen you for a while.’

  ‘Just got back,’ he told her. ‘Been back home to earn some more bar fine money.’

  ‘Well, you’ll be more than welcome to spend it here,’ she said and laughed, easily.

  Steve was an easy guy to get along with. He knew the score and always paid his way.

  ‘My friends, Thomas and Harry.’ Steve introduced the two men with him.

  ‘Met them in The Tiger Bar. Told them I’d show them the friendliest and best looking cashier in the whole town.’

  ‘That’s nice of you, Steve.’ She laughed. ‘Why did you come here then?’

  ‘Ah, Siswan. Modest as ever!’ He laughed with her.

  Siswan shook hands with all three of the men. It was Harry’s hand that lingered too long. She spotted the sign immediately. His palm was too clammy as well. Like shaking hands with a dead fish.

  ‘So, gentlemen,’ she asked. ‘What will it be?’

  ‘A beer for me please, Siswan,’ Steve told her.

  Thomas asked for the same. He seemed quite nice. A newbie as far as Siswan could judge. He was still a little embarrassed by the sights and sounds of the bars. He wouldn’t be for long, though, Siswan thought. A few drinks and the inhibitions soon fell away. It was Harry who waited for her to look at him before ordering.

  ‘I’ll have you, sweetheart,’ he said with a laugh.

  ‘Really, Harry?’ she asked him, staring into his eyes. ‘Can you afford me?’

  ‘Whatever it takes, darling!’

  ‘More than you’d be willing to give, Harry,’ she said, smiling.

  ‘I told you before, Harry,’ Steve butted across. ‘Siswan isn’t for sale.’

  ‘What a shame.’ Harry allowed his eyes to linger over Siswan’s breasts. ‘What a bloody shame.’

  In the end, Harry ordered a beer and the three men started what was to be a long drinking session. After an hour they had each consumed enough to make them easy prey for the bar girls. Even Thomas was enjoying the attention Mai was giving him.

  Harry was in a deep and meaningful conversation with Nok that seemed to mostly consist of him sliding his hands all over her body. Nok didn’t mind. Not in the least. She quite openly allowed his searching fingers to wander wherever they wanted. After all, it was her job. Whilst he was spending money, ringing the bell and running up his tab, he could touch anything he wanted.

  Steve sat at the bar and attempted a conversation with Siswan. The noise of the music blasting out from the huge loudspeakers made it a little difficult.

  ‘So, Siswan,’ he shouted. ‘When are you going to marry me?’

  ‘What was that, Steve?’ Siswan laughed.

  ‘I said, when are you going to marry me?’

  ‘Oh, I thought that was what you said. Couldn’t be sure though. The music is very loud.’

  ‘You’re not going to answer me are you?’ He laughed.

  ‘No, Steve.’

  ‘Was that an answer?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You will?’

  ‘Will what?’

  The conversation carried on in that vein for quite a while. Siswan enjoyed Steve’s company. He was easy to deal with and he was spending a fortune.

  ‘I suppose I’ll have to ask Joy, then,’ he said, finally.

  ‘Good idea, Steve.’ Siswan laughed back. ‘She’s looking for a good farang husband.’

  The reality was that most of the girls were. The dream in the laundry had been about money in a pocket. The dream amongst the bar girls was that a good farang, a farang with a good heart, would come along and take the girl away from all this.

  Of course, in the dream, a good heart meant a farang who had a lot of money and didn’t mind spending it. The dream always had the clause that the farang would take care of the girl, her child or children, as well as the rest of the family. The dream didn’t come true very often.

  Siswan knew of one girl who had married a farang. He had a very good heart indeed. Very big. He’d fallen in love with the girl and asked her to marry him. Three months later she was back working the bars.

  It hadn’t worked out. After the initial lust had died down he’d sent her packing. Told her he didn’t like her family or her two kids. Didn’t see why he had to support her whiskey drinking father and her fat, lazy mother. The reality of life was never included in the dream.

  Steve turned his attentions towards Joy. Siswan didn’t mind. Nor did Joy. Even Steve was happy with the situation. He knew he’d never get Siswan to come out from behind the bar. Never.

  She tallied up the ledger. The girls were doing well. The three farangs were out for a good time and, as always with farangs, a good time meant lots of alcohol. Siswan, herself, had already earned more from drinks that evening than she had from her wages.

  Harry rang the bell again. Drinks all round. She decided a cocktail called ‘sex on the beach’ would go down well. Orange juice for herself though.

  The sound of the bell brought more customers. Well, not exactly customers. More like freeloaders. If a bar had a party of revellers, who were ringing the bell often enough, it would always attract those farang who were out for a cheap night. The cheap charlies.

  Several men now sat around the bar, sipping from their cheap bottles of beer, whilst the unsuspecting merry makers continued to ring the bell. Continued to buy a round for everyone.

  Siswan despised the farangs who did that. They were mostly long timers. Farangs that worked in the country as English teachers, diving instructors, or some other job that didn’t make a lot of money. They would frequent the bars almost every night, sipping from their bottles of beer, whilst keeping an ear open for the sound of a bell ringing.

  It was even worse when one of the girls had a birthday. All the balloons would be the giveaway. The girls would order an array of colourful balloons to decorate the bar and a buffet of food for everyone to enjoy. They would pay for it all out of their own pocket as well.

  The whole idea was that the girl held a party for everyone. The bar would get busy and the bell would be rung often throughout the night. At midnight, all the balloons would be burst to celebrate the birthday and also to ward off any evil spirits from attaching themselves to the girl for the following twelve months.

  The parties always attracted the freeloaders. Free food. Free drinks. They could sit and drink all night without ever putting their hands in their pockets.

  When all the decent customers, as well as staff, pinned money to the girls dress as a sign of good luck, and also to help her pay for the food and drink she had provided, the freeloaders would skulk off into the night. They had spent the whole night dri
nking, eating, even groping the girls that didn’t know them too well, and then they’d move off to find another free drink, and maybe another free grope, at some other bar.

  Siswan didn’t like them. She didn’t like people who just took and never gave. When the bell rang again she pointedly served anyone who was joining in and ignored the freeloaders.

  ‘Hey,’ one of them shouted above the noise. ‘Where’s my drink?’

  ‘What did you order?’ she asked.

  ‘No. From the bell,’ he told her. ‘Free drink for everyone.’

  ‘Yes.’ She looked at him. ‘But not for you.’

  ‘That’s the spirit, Siswan!’ Steve had overheard the brief conversation.

  ‘Best you clear off to some other bar, mate.’

  Siswan smiled. She was glad that Steve had noticed. He knew the tricks well enough. Now he knew that Siswan wouldn’t cheat him he’d be even more inclined to drink at the bar.

  ‘Thanks, Siswan,’ he shouted over.

  ‘You’re welcome, Steve.’ She smiled.

  Siswan never cheated the customers. Even when the girls had told her she should overcharge the drunk ones, she never did. She had learned straight away that the farangs didn’t mind spending their money. Didn’t mind buying a few girly drinks. Didn’t mind too much about anything. What they hated though, what really got them angry, was being ripped off. It didn’t matter if they spent several thousand in a night, didn’t matter one bit. As long as they didn’t get cheated.

  She knew of one bar that had regularly ripped off the customers. When the farangs were drunk enough, and called for their bar tabs, the girl would very often add a hundred, maybe two, to the total. If the customer did check, the girl would just smile and mumble an apology. Those bars never had regulars. Once they knew the bars that cheated, the regulars never went back. The bars soon went out of business once word got around. The farangs were loud, sometimes ill mannered, occasionally downright offensive, but they weren’t stupid. They weren’t stupid at all.