by L. J. Hawke
Tania wandered so far that she ended up at a taco restaurant about three kilometers away from her apartment a bit early. She sat down, ordered a lime slush, and munched her way through chips and salsa while waiting for Sanur to arrive.
He found her in the back of the restaurant with his eyes, waved, and walked in that strange, sinuous way that he had, dodging servers and drunken tourists as if they surrounded him all the time. Tania wondered if he had been a boxer or a dancer in a past life, for he moved with such grace. His black hair with its coppery sheen shone in the light, brushing his collar. He had on a short-sleeved copper shirt and khaki slacks. His eyes looked tired from his journey.
The server, a Thai girl in the requisite heels, short dress, and huge crimson smile came by to take their order. Tania ordered a chimichanga, and Sanur ordered a taco combo. Both ordered iced tea. “How was your trip?” asked Tania.
“Long. I know Southeast Asia the best. I can find the poorest of the poor, the people with great talent and no money to realize their dreams.” He smiled. “Just like the orphans you hired. Highly intelligent, driven, ready to work. Insanely grateful that the rent is paid for, and that they have money for food, medicine, and anything else they need. Eager to learn new skills and humbly seeking any chance they can get. They won't find anything as good as what we are willing to give them.”
“There is a we now? Last I checked, I don't own any percentage of the business.”
Sanur raised his eyebrows. “Is that what you want?”
Tania grinned. That hadn't been directly on her mind, but now that he brought it up, why not? “Two percent of the gross,” she offered. “Hell of an incentive for me to keep growing the business.”
Sanur laughed. “You Americans, always willing to...What do you say? Drive a hard bargain.”
“I've seen you drive a hard bargain or two. Don't go pretending you're all sweetness and light.”
Sanur laughed so hard he nearly dropped his tortilla chip with its load of mango salsa. “Sweetness and light? Far from it. I'm a creature of the dark. I'm not happy about staying up during the day.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Now that we're dealing with the other side of the world, I can take the night shift. Do you think the young ones are good enough to run the store during the early morning hours?”
“They definitely are. It doesn't really matter when I do the Facebook ads. I can check that anytime, day or night. Same with keeping up with the accounting, and the Spanish speakers primarily call later in the day. They can always transfer the call to me if they run into a Spanish speaker.”
“What about you? Are you a morning person?” Sanur asked, a gleam in his eyes.
“Used to be. Started out in a suburb, big houses and trees, a nice girl with a little brother to help take care of. We rode bikes everywhere. We had a piano, but I went rebel and chose the guitar.”
“Then things changed.” Sanur understood. Things had changed suddenly for him as well.
Tania shrugged. “I went to live with my grandma. Ended up in a holler, that's a little valley, in between two big farms. Surrounded by sheep, cows, a few goats to keep down the kudzu. Kudzu is vegetation, an ivy, that's almost impossible to kill. Grandma was up at the crack of dawn, even before the roosters woke everyone else up. I promised myself I'd never be poor again, and if that means getting up at the crack of dawn, that's what I'll do.”
“Try it two days a week.”
“Try what?”
“Evenings. Isn't that when most of the Spanish-speaking people call?”
“Yes, it is. Swing shift where I'm from is usually one p.m. to nine p.m. That sound good to you?”
“You run my business. You decide.”
“I love choosing my own hours!” Tania grinned as the food arrived.
“You do everything my former business partner did.” Sanur bit into a chicken taco.
“Former business partner? Did he move away?”
Sanur choked, drank down some iced tea with mint. “You could say that. He cleaned out the account he had access to, worth about half a million American dollars, and took my girlfriend, who used to be my administrative assistant, with him.”
Tania whistled and mimed stabbing Sanur in the heart. Sanur grimaced. “We are not biologically related, but I considered him to be a brother.”
“Not anymore.”
“Not anymore.” Sanur sipped his drink.
“You need to get your money back. My daddy stole my childhood. My mama abandoned me in the worst way possible. The last two people left of my family didn't believe any of the words coming out of my mouth, which stole my trust.” She leaned forward, her eyes blazing. “People that steal keep stealing. You've got to put a stop to them, or they'll keep doing it. He took your money, he took your girl.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Sorry to say this, but you're better off without the girl. But the money, the money you need back.”
“Agreed. He's good at hiding, I'll give him that. I sent someone after him who can find anything and anyone. She says she's making progress, and she's getting much closer. I don't think he'll be able to escape for very much longer.”
“You hired a shark?” asked Tania.
“More like a snake.” Sanur smiled sardonically. “Malee, my ex-girlfriend, is smart, ruthless, and better than Somchair at nearly everything. My retainer will find them and make them pay. They deserve each other. In fact, it's likely that she took the money from him, and he no longer has it.” Sanur ate another taco.
“She's a con artist,” realized Tania. “I used to know them girls. Pretty, vivacious, made you want to give them the shirt off your back. But that was never good enough for them. They wanted to do as little as possible to get the most they could, in any way they could, no matter how illegal or cruel. Hate them bitches.”
Sanur was impressed. “Your accent becomes more and more Southern the more angry you get. Don't be angry.” He touched her hand. “I'm already getting even.”
“Good.” Tania was sad when Sanur withdrew his hand. She decided to change the subject. “So do I get my two percent or not?”
Sanur laughed. “You just want to be able to pay me back more quickly.”
“Damn straight.” Tania laughed. “Besides, yes, you can probably find someone other than me to run your business. But I have really good ideas, and sales are up close to forty percent. I found an entirely new market for you, and you didn't even have to hire an extra Spanish-speaking person to deal with the overflow.”
“We should do that. Your strength isn't speaking Spanish, or even customer service. You make our business grow, and that's what we need.” Sanur ran his hands through his shoulder-length hair, making the bits on top stand up straight. “There are families that are relying on us to eat. Many are single parents. Many have sick children or parents. Most of them live in the worst slums you can possibly think of. I’m talking sewage in the front yard, or a house made up of a few pieces of metal or wood.”
Tania could see it in her mind. It wasn’t a pretty picture. She nodded grimly. Sanur raised a hand, moved it outward. “Now they have food, clothing, medicine, can take their parents and children to the hospital, can move out of the slums. They have supplies for their art, and even hire those around them to help. A single person in a slum getting money, moving out, taking their families and friends with them, can have an enormous impact on so many different people.”
“I get it. This is all through hard work, the work they do to make what we sell, the work we do to sell it. Our job is making people happy all over the planet on both sides, the artists and the clients.”
Sanur grinned. “Yes, you do understand.”
“Tell me about just one of them.” Tania sipped her drink, the icy lime-tea goodness welcome on her parched throat.
Sanur smiled, pleased at Tania’s interest in the artists. “One woman lives on the coast of Cambodia. She collects seashells and driftwood. She makes those beautiful ocean objects we sell. Jewelry, picture frames. Her eleven-year-old
son carves statues from driftwood. Her daughter helps her collect seashells. Now both her kids go to school, they have health care, they are happy and healthy. The son taught his mother how to replicate the best pieces, so he has time to do his school work.”
“I know these driftwood statues. They're selling like crazy in Spain. They're so whimsical, humorous. So much fun.” She smiled. “Think I'm going to order one for my desk. And probably some of the necklaces.”
“We're also going to need to find a Portuguese speaker. I've noticed we have some sales from there.”
“The two I talk to speak perfect English. It's going to cost us money to have some Spanish- and Portuguese-speaking people ready to answer questions, but we could do it virtually.”
“They can always contact us when they really don't understand something. It's more cost-effective to do it that way than it is to hire many different native speakers.”
“Wait a minute.” Tania sat up straight. “We're surrounded by digital nomads from every country on the planet. We just have to hire a few of the right ones to answer questions. They can always transfer the call to us if they are completely confused. The non-American ones usually speak several different languages.”
“Three percent. And that's my final offer.”
Tania grinned, and sipped her ice lime drink. “Glad to see I'm wearing you down.” Sanur gave her a slow smile that curled her toes. “Besides, that goes to paying off the money I owe you.”
“It does. Think of all the delicious interest I'm losing out on by increasing your pay.” He smirked, an expression so different from his calm urbanity that Tania had to choke down a laugh.
“My heart bleeds for you.”
Sanur snorted. “So, any other ideas to improve the bottom line?”
“Nothing more for my to-do list.” Tania rolled her eyes.
Sanur laughed, his teeth blindingly white against his dusky skin. “You should see mine.”
“My job is to take as much off your plate as I can. That leaves you time to find more for us to sell, new things that will intrigue buyers. We can't afford to get stale.”
“Your job is to sell and to run the office. Most of the time, that's two separate jobs.”
“The quad helps me with the online ads.”
“The quad? Oh, our four Thai teens.” Sanur looked Tania right in the eyes, his chocolate brown eyes boring into her hazel ones. “We can't get too big. The whole point is for these to be one-of-a-kind things, and if we spend too much on overhead, the artist won't get much anymore.”
“So, double in size and stop?”
“Something like that.”
“Keep it lean, agile.”
“Like you.” Sanur gave her a slow smile.
“Like me.” Tania raised her eyebrows.
“No more business. Let's dance.” Sanur paid the bill and took her to the small dance floor. Sanur put one hand on her waist, then the other. She put her hands on his shoulders and moved to the music. Tania had been taking salsa lessons and a little merengue. So, she was able to follow his lead and found herself laughing and whirling. His paper-and-incense smell clung to her. His hands on her felt warm, inviting. He looked young, like a very classy international party man in his early thirties without all the drinking and dissipation.
The band started playing a song with a more calypso beat, and she moved. Sanur wound around her, back and forth, winding closer and farther away, making her laugh. It was better than any late-night drinking fantasy had been.
There was pulsing heat, a pounding beat, sheets of rain outside the open doorway, and a flow she’d never felt before. Tania felt part of it all, the rain, the hot wind, the beat of the music. She felt herself getting closer and closer to Sanur. Then, he ordered her another drink. They cooled down, laughing, and he called a tuk tuk to take them home.
He dropped her off at her door, entwined his hands in hers, and kissed both her cheeks gently. She smiled up at him and sighed when he turned and walked away. She wanted...more. A lot more.
Rock Goddess
A week after the Africa trip, Tania and Sanur had another no-business-rule dinner. Lupe was off with friends that she collected like bracelets, mostly digital nomads. They liked to run around the Nimman District together. The quad, now six since they had hired Daw and Kasem from the orphanage, were busy with their studies. Daw was slight but classically handsome, and Kasem was small for his age, but so energetic it was hard keeping up with him.
Sanur was still exhausted from his trip across a giant continent, and Tania was elated because she had created an initiative from scratch with the African clients that was selling very well. She was getting close to seventy percent done with paying off her largest loan and was absolutely thrilled to take a night off. They shared garlic naan bread and butter chicken with cold mint lassi, a yogurt drink.
Sanur stared at his food. “I can't decide whether or not I'm too tired to eat. I had to open bank accounts in numerous cities, set up micropayments for cell phones, deliver cell phones, bicycles, or motorcycles to those who needed them, and spend some time on hiring someone to drill for fresh water for some of the smaller villages. My other company paid for English training in schools for countries that didn't have English as its primary language. Nigeria does, and it was a pleasure going through there.” He paused to eat more garlic naan bread.
“That’s excellent.” Tania was amused by Sanur’s enthusiasm, and that he was inadvertently breaking his own no business during dinner rule.
“They were all very surprised that a Thai-based company was willing to invest so much into local infrastructure and economies. I had to explain that artists work best when their children are in school, they can communicate with me via cell phones to be sure their products get to market, and that they work much better when they have water and electric power that they can afford.” Sanur remembered he had food in his hand and used his naan bread to scoop up some chicken.
“Were you able to contact any orphanages?”
“Some of the collectives were already working with them. I encouraged that, making sure those young people have jobs they can step into and can afford an education.” Sanur tore off more naan bread and grabbed some chicken with it before popping it in his mouth.
“That's fantastic. The kids in my older class are doing so well that they're teaching the younger ones with me, and they're having a lot of fun making videos and podcasts for their school.” Tania went for the chicken before Sanur ate it all.
“You work hard and volunteer even harder,” observed Sanur. “You need to take more time off.”
“That's why I volunteer during the week and not on weekends,” said Tania. Sanur smiled. This woman educated the powerless, the hallmark of his clan. His admiration for her was growing. “I work earlier on orphanage days and take time to go work with them after school, food, and chores. They are wonderful, so ready to learn. As you know, I hired two more orphans to work.”
Tania had told designers and other high-value customers who were slowly being converted into friends about the orphans and the online crowdfunding page. The orphanage got a lot more funding, and slowly, one by one, then in twos or threes, the orphans were being adopted by Thai people, as well as by visiting overseas teachers, entrepreneurs, and other expats from various countries.
“It’s going to get hot in there. Are you trying to cook the children?”
Tania made a face at him. “All of the office is now air-conditioned, so they won't fall over during the hot months.”
Sanur grimaced at her. “I thought we agreed not to talk directly about work during dinner.” He washed the butter chicken down with some lassi.
Tania put her hands up in the air, conceding the point. “I promise.”
They devoured the rest of their chicken, washed up, and went for a walk. The streets were slick with rain, though the clouds had blown away. Neon reflected off the black pavement. They argued about whether to see a movie or go dancing. Dancing won.
Tania loved the feel of the street, the pulse-pounding music streaming out from shops, bars, and clubs. It was a Friday night, and many shops were still open. Tania squealed and walked into a store selling helmets, leather, and Harley gear, making Sanur laugh. She found the helmet she liked and bought it. “You don't have a scooter or a scooter license yet,” pointed out Sanur.
“Both my motorcycle and driver's licenses are still good from the US, and I obtained universal licenses for both in South Korea,” Tania informed Sanur with an arched eyebrow.
Sanur held up his hands, palms out, in mock surrender. Tania went to the next store and tried on, then bought, a flared skirt that barely covered her hips and thighs in black covered with silvery chains and buckles. She also bought a T-shirt of a skeleton wearing a red bandana on a motorcycle. She put the entire outfit on, squealed, then came out of the changing room with her old clothes in a bag.
Sanur was stunned to see her beauty. Here in the land of year-round warmth, a pool and workout center in her apartment complex, and her increasingly strenuous workouts, she had lost several kilos. Then, she'd gained it back in muscle. This had given her pleasing curves. So, when Tania's hips swayed to the driving rock beat in the store, it drove Sanur a little mad.
The life his Tania—When had she become his Tania?—had lived before coming to Asia had been so different from his own. Sanur wondered what goddess he managed to please to have a woman like Tania in his life. Her English would change from proper to the back roads where she grew up, her eyes would darken, and she would entrance him with something unexpected. The woman who stood before him, dancing to the shop’s blaring rock music in her new clothes, was nothing like Malee.
Tania had a massive and generous heart to match her intelligence. This American expat had been through several nightmares already and was determined not to go back there. She had friends who loved her, and she only asked for what she deserved. She paid her bills and her debts, worked hard, and gave back to the community around her from the second day after they had met.