by Wiley Brooks
Amanda and Suzy continued to chat, but at a level that those nearby wouldn’t overhear.
The long drive to Mersing included a couple stops along the way. It was nearing evening by the time the travelers disembarked. All five headed toward the docks only to find out that the tide had crested a few hours before. All the boats for Tioman had left on the high tide. Next high tide would be at about eight the next morning.
The group headed back toward the center of town.
“Let’s try this place,” Martin said to Crystal, standing outside the Happy Song Hotel. “Lonely Planet says it’s decent enough.” Martin and Crystal went in. Amanda and Suzy followed. Joey said he was going to try another place he had read about and would catch them later.
Amanda’s room was typical for a cheap Malaysian hotel. Non-descript, even starkly plain, but clean. It offered a full-sized mattress on a plywood base. The only light fixture was a fluorescent bulb hanging from the ceiling. It cast its harsh blueish light throughout the room. There was a small chest and a simple nightstand. While it was not much to look at, but it was fine at just seven ringgits – less than three US dollars.
The room also boasted its own bathroom, which not all guest house rooms did. The hotel itself had two floors. The door to Amanda’s room was midway down the hall on the second floor.
At the end of the hall was a back door that could serve as an emergency exit. Some of these low-cost places were firetraps, so she always thought through a get-out-fast plan. She tried the door to make sure it would open. It did.
She had just stepped from the shower when Suzy, whose room was a couple doors down, knocked and called in.
“Amanda. We’re heading to the Portside Café. The manager recommended it. It’s close. Want to come along?”
“Not ready yet,” she answered back through the door. “I’ll join you there.”
A short time later, Amanda was out the door and on her way to the Portside Café. The others, even Joey, were there, drinking cold beers.
“Hey Amanda,” Joey said as she walked through the door. “Over here.” She walked over and took the seat next to him. “How about a beer?”
“Why not?” she said. Joey signaled the bartender to bring her a beer.
The beer came and she took a long draw on it.
“That hits the spot,” she said, then turned to Joey. “So Joey, what’s your story?”
“I didn’t tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth on the bus. I was born here,” he said. He took another pull on his beer, then continued.
“I never knew my dad. He was a British sailor. He was long-gone by the time my mom found out she was pregnant. It was just me and my mom.”
“No other family around?”
“No. They shunned her. You know, the unwed mom thing.”
“Sorry.”
“My mom died when I was little.”
“What? God. Joey, that’s awful. I’m so sorry.”
“Hey, the story gets better. Honest! An American couple adopted me and took me to Bentonville. That’s in North Carolina. I grew up there. I have almost no memories of my life here before them. My dad was a preacher.”
“Wait. You were raised in a small town in North Carolina but you have no southern accent. I’ve never met someone from North Carolina with no accent. How’d that happen?”
“It was my mom’s doing. I already spoke a little English when they adopted me. Not much, mind you, but I picked it up quickly. Everyone in Malaysia learns English. Well, mom – that’s my American mom - she said if I ever wanted to amount to anything, I had to talk like I was from someplace where they don’t have an accent.”
Joey explained how they would watch TV and his mom would have him try to repeat lines exactly like the speaker.
“We had a Betamax to record shows. We’d be watching and she’d stop the tape, back it up and have me speak the lines. We’d sometimes do it over and over. She really taught me how to listen to people. What can I say? It worked. I can slip into a little North Carolina when I want to, though.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“Y’all seed my new sheirt and paints?”
Amanda laughed.
“Yeah. There it is! Well, I’m from Tampa. But it’s like Tampa isn’t in the South anymore. My dad doesn’t have an accent. He says he worked on getting rid of it. My mom didn’t have one because she grew up in the Midwest before her family moved to Tampa.”
Their conversation moved to college. He went to a small, unknown school called Barton. It wasn’t too far from Bentonville. She was an English major at Brown.
“Brown? Wow,” he said. “Ivy League girl. You must be, one, smart and, two, rich.”
“Well, I was a pretty good student. And my dad does okay. He’s a developer. Commercial office buildings.”
“Brothers and sisters?”
“Nope. Only child.”
“Me, too.”
They spent the next hour with everyone getting to know one another better.
“I’m ready to head back,” Suzy said. “We need to get up early in the morning. How about you guys?”
‘Yep,” Crystal said. “I’m plumb tuckered out. I need to lay my head on a pillow and visit Neverland.”
“I’m not ready to turn in yet,” Amanda said. “L.A. Law is on tonight. Maybe the bartender will put it on the TV.”
The bartender, an Aussie no less, agreed to switch the TV to TV3, the new Malaysian station that carried English-language shows, mostly from the US.
Joey admitted he was an L.A. Law fan, as well. While waiting for the show to start, they discussed their favorite L.A. Law characters.
“I like Arnie,” Joey said.
“He’s a pig!”
“Yeah. That, too. Listen,” Joey added, “since we’re going to stick around to watch the show, we’ll be late. I’ll see that you get back to your hotel okay.”
“Thank you,” she said. “That’s nice. It’s not far, but a young woman on the street at night is probably not a great idea.”
The others said their goodbyes and see-you-in-the-mornings, then headed out. Amanda and Joey chatted until the show came on the TV. She liked him. He was easy to talk to, funny, with a nice smile and was, she had to admit, not hard on the eyes. He was maybe an inch or two shy of six feet tall and looked fit. If his biceps were any hint, he even had some muscles.
Knowing his story, it was easy now to see that he was biracial. You could see the Brit in him. But she also understood why Martin thought Joey was a local. Martin probably had focused on Joey’s complexion.
What you might see first if he were standing in a group of local men would be skin tone. Joey would fit right in with them. A Malaysian’s skin tone is darker than Westerners but with a hint of yellow. The closest thing she could compare it to back home was people from Mexico and Latin America, except for the slight Asian hue.
The obvious comparisons to Malays pretty much ended there, though. Apart from the color, he had the face of a Brit. Joey’s nose was narrower than the typical Malay nose and came to more of a downward point so that his nostrils were not so visible. Malays generally had high cheekbones on a squarish face. Joey’s face was more of an oval. His head boasted sandy brown hair, several shades lighter than adorned the heads of the men from here. Even his light brown eyebrows set him apart from the locals. They were neither thick nor bushy.
It all came together quite well on him. Suzy was right, she thought to herself, he is a hunk. As he spoke, she found herself looking at his lips. He had nice lips. She had a brief thought that they were very kissable lips.
There was something else she liked about him. He made eye contact, true lingering eye contact with his soft brown eyes. She felt it said something good about a man who is willing to maintain eye contact. The slight twinkle in his eyes made her feel immediately comfortable with him.
“Hey, you want to walk down to the docks to scope out the fishing boats?” he asked when L.A. Law ended. “One of them will be takin
g us to Tioman tomorrow.”
“I don’t know. You think it’s safe to walk around there?”
“Amanda, this isn’t a big bad city. They don’t know how to spell c-r-i-m-e here. And I suspect I could handle anyone who even looks at us funny.” He gave a grin and flexed a bicep.
“Yeah, like that would work against a knife,” she said with a smile, then raised her eyebrows and added, “but I do have to say it looks good on you.”
They walked to the docks. She was glad they did. A slight breeze wafted in off the water. It was a beautiful moon-lit night. Mersing is a quiet town and it felt as if they had the entire place to themselves. She hooked her arm into his as they walked along. At the end of a dock, Joey turned toward Amanda, gently touched under her chin and softly kissed her.
“That was nice,” she told him.
“Yes, it was,” he responded softly.
They meandered back toward the Happy Song.
“I’m another five minutes into town,” he said when they got to her hotel.
“Listen, I’m not sleepy,” Amanda said. “You want to come in for a bit?”
In her room, the only place to sit was on the bed. She rummaged through her backpack and found two candles. She placed one on the nightstand and the other on the chest. She lit them with a Bic lighter.
“I find rooms in places like this are always have those damn fluorescent lights. Way too bright. So I carry a couple candles with me.” With that, she walked over, turned off the dangling light and the soft glow of the candles dimly lighted the small room. She sat on the bed next to him, leaned in and said, “I liked that kiss.” She then kissed him again. And, of course, he kissed her back.
He laid her on the bed and nuzzled her neck. After a couple minutes, he moved his left hand under her Madonna Like a Virgin tee-shirt and caressed her breast. She liked it and kissed him a little more breathlessly. He sat up and pulled off his shirt. She took in his well-toned muscles. He helped her pull her shirt over her head, then unbuttoned her shorts and pulled them down and off.
She wasn’t reluctant. She was doing this and she was liking it. He slid down and kissed her through her yellow dotted panties, then moved them aside and licked her. When he did, she made a soft purring sound and pressed herself against his lips.
“Take off your pants,” she breathed. He did as he was told. He was clearly ready for her. She took him in one hand, stroking slowly. It felt solid. She kissed the side, then outlined the tip with her tongue. Joey was enjoying this.
Amanda looked up at him, scooted back across the bed and opened her arms. No words were needed. He climbed between her legs and entered her with a slow, smooth stroke. The tempo picked up. Then picked up again. Her purrs turned into more audible moans.
“Are you almost there?” he whispered in her ear.
“Oh God, yes,” she whispered back.
He was good. She started taking short breaths. Amanda could feel it coming. She was so close. He changed his angle of penetration. She gasped, then shuddered. He slowed for a moment, then feeling his own orgasm nearing, he sped up again. With one hand, he moved her hips up so he could drive in deeper. Then, in a burst, he was done.
“My God,” she said after they laid quietly for a moment. “Are all Malaysian men as good as you?”
“Only the ones raised in America,” he said with a smile.
They lay together for a bit longer, then she said she needed to go to the bathroom.
She turned on the bathroom light and closed the door. She looked in the mirror. “That was intense,” she said to herself. “I wonder if he’ll be as good next time.”
While she cleaned up, Joey was busy, as well. First, he moved his clothes out of the way to a corner of the room. From the left front pocket of his pants, he pulled a pearl-handled switch-blade knife. He opened the blade and watched a moment while the light from the candles flickered on it. He moved behind where the door would open and waited. He heard her turn off the water.
Amanda opened the door and stepped though.
“I was thinking…” was all she got out before he grabbed her from behind. His right hand covered her mouth. In one quick move, he wielded the knife, a beautiful pearl-handled stiletto with a four-inch blade, with his left hand and slashed deeply through and across the exposed front of her neck. It was over in an instant. He held her up for a moment, making sure she could utter no sounds, then let her droop, face up, across the bed. Her body twitched a bit and her blue eyes peered up at him in horror. She knew she was dying. He watched her as her life faded away. It didn’t take long.
From the small day pack he carried, Joey pulled out his Walkman. He popped in his headphones and pressed play. The song he had queued had become part of his ritual. He, bopped his head to the beat and picked up part of the song, singing under his voice:
. . .And another one gone, and another one gone
Another one bites the dust
Hey, I'm gonna get you, too
Another one bites the dust
Keeping Queen’s beat, he pranced around the small room as if he were Freddie Mercury himself. This had become his favorite part of the night. High on the adrenaline that always came with the squirts of blood, he danced over to the bed and used the sheet to wipe the blood from his knife. “I’m good at this,” he thought. Then he got down to why he was there.
Her backpack contained a Nikon with a telephoto lens. That was a score. She also had a newer model Walkman – better than his. That Walkman could bring some bucks, but he just might keep it for his songs.
He also found her passport, ten like-new hundred-dollar bills in a money belt she usually wore under her shorts. The pouch also contained another fifteen-hundred dollars in traveler’s checks and two credit cards. One was a gold Mastercard and the other an American Express. In the right front pocket of her shorts pocket was about hundred dollars’ worth of Malaysian Ringgits.
Finally, he removed the gold locket from around her dead neck. It was probably a gift from Daddy. He didn’t know how much it was worth, but it had to have decent value. He was sure it was real gold. And he would bet that the diamond atop the heart was real and at least a carat. He took it to the sink and washed off all the blood and put it in his pack.
Joey washed his hands and splashed cold water on his face. He removed the condom he was wearing, flushed it, then washed his crotch. He returned to the bedroom and put on his clothes. He moved to the door and listened. No sounds. This, he knew, was the most dangerous part of his night. He had to get out without being seen. He cracked the door open, listened again, then peaked out. No one was in the hall. He slipped out, headed to the back door and left the Happy Song.
He moved swiftly through the night to a spot outside town where he had hidden his motorcycle two days before. He climbed on, kicked it to life and sped away.
Suzy knocked on Amanda’s door the next morning. When there was no answer, she figured that Amanda had gone to Joey’s place. They seemed to be getting it on last night. She, Martin and Crystal walked to the dock, suspecting that Amanda and Joey would be there. When they didn’t show up, the backpackers shrugged and headed on to Tioman. “We’ll probably see them tomorrow,” Suzy said.
Joey rode all night. By noon the next day, he was home. Dead tired, he just wanted to collapse on his bed and sleep. But he knew that he couldn’t do it just yet. He had to move the items.
Day 2
The shower and shave gave Joey a second wind. He made some toast and scrambled a couple eggs. He allowed himself one cup of coffee. Joey wanted just enough caffeine to keep him lucid through the next couple of hours.
His body still craved sleep. Understandable. He was now past twenty-four hours since he last closed his eyes and drifted off. It was okay. Part of the job. He’d have the rest of the day to crank up the AC, close both sets of curtains in his bedroom and crash. Time in his business was money. This was especially true for the traveler’s checks.
Joey grabbed his day pack with Amanda’s stu
ff, climbed on his Honda and headed into George Town. His destination was a nondescript tailor’s shop in the old part of town. It was an easy twenty-minute ride.
Big Willie Chirathivat sat in the air-conditioned shop his family had run for three generations. The storefront was in a two-story building on a side street in George Town. The sign outside above the shop simply read TAILOR.
Willie had been called Big Willie since childhood. By ten, he was twice the size of his schoolmates. Now, thirty years later, Big Willie didn't know how much he weighed. Four hundred pounds? Maybe more. Remarkably, he seemed otherwise healthy.
His grandfather had moved his part of the family from Bangkok to Penang in 1932 as part of a plan to expand the Chirathivat crime network. The Chirathivat families were all tailors, so each set up a legitimate tailor shop in their new city. It would be a front for buying and selling stolen goods.
Big Willie was Joey’s fence.
The Chirathivat family plan was simple enough. Move what you could locally, but make sure thieves knew that nothing was beyond the family’s scope. Art masterpieces. Rare coins. Ancient artifacts. Jewels. The family could find buyers somewhere in the world for it all. Before the Japanese invaded in late 1941, the Penang branch of the family had already moved millions of dollars in art and artifacts up to Bangkok and on to buyers on four continents. The war changed all that, though.
Clearly, things didn't work out quite as the family had hoped back in Bangkok. While the Penang Chirathivats got through the war, it cost them dearly. Big Willie’s only sibling, an only child at the time, was playing outside with friends a couple blocks away on December 8, 1941. That was the first day of Japanese bombing. Terrified, the young boy ran toward home as fast as he could.
He wasn’t fast enough.
In the wrong place at the wrong time, the boy died instantly when the bomb exploded just feet from him. The family grieved. It was six years before they had another child, Willie. The Chirathivats survived the war by keeping their heads down. They fell back on their skills as tailors for the four long years of Japanese occupation.