Beauty Rising

by Mark W. Sasse

  “This guy was so far out of his element that I thought he was going to kiss me when I took him to Al’s for a rack of ribs. But you know, he called his mom on my computer, and she just lit into him, swearing at him and telling him how stupid he was. Poor guy.”

  “Aww,” sighed Sarah in sympathy.

  I nervously fretted about what to say, but I was determined to keep up the façade.

  “Now I feel so bad that he had so much trouble. The thief must have taken the money and then ditched the wallet. I can’t believe that you actually met him. How strange!” I said convincingly.

  “I know. What are the odds?” asked Jason.

  “Well, do you want to send the license back to him? Do you think he would want it?” I asked trying to seem naive.

  “Well, probably not. He’s been home for a while now. I’m sure he is getting a replacement license.”

  “That’s amazing that you both had something to do with this guy,” said Jessica.

  “Totally. It’s kind of creepy,” said Sarah. “Definitely hold onto that license. It’s got to be a good luck charm.”

  I agreed. I would not let it out of my sight.

  A Politician’s Mistress

  I survived the Martin Kinney Jr. driver’s license incident. The thought of Jessica finding out my true nature took my energy away. I got home around three and just fell asleep for about three hours. When I awoke at six, Hoa was there and she started going over everything I needed to know for the evening party. I needed to have my ao dai neatly pressed and ready to go. I felt very emotional and wondered how this night would end.

  At 8:45 we got on our motorbikes and headed to the salon to meet with Co Thu. We entered to greet Co Thu who was on the phone. Hoa and I sat down and waited for her to finish.

  “Yes,” she said. “They’ll be over shortly, and yes, I remember. It’s all taken care of on my end.”

  She hung up the phone and looked at us.

  “You two look beautiful. Are you all ready to have a good time tonight?”

  We both nodded.

  “Good. Hoa, it is not at the usual location tonight. Tonight it is at the ‘Big House’.”

  Hoa looked surprised.

  “You’ve been there once, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you understand?”

  “Yes,” Hoa replied. “We will be fine.”

  “Okay. It’s time for you to go.”

  Hoa nodded and took me by the hand and led me back out to the motorbikes.

  “What is it?” I asked. “What is the ‘Big House’?”

  “Forget everything I told you. We are not going to one of those parties that I described at all. This will be a little more intimate.”

  “Intimate. With who?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “But you’ve been there before?”

  “Once,” Hoa said. “And…”

  She stopped as she put her helmet on.

  “And what?”

  “We are going to the People’s Council Guest House, and there is going to be a cadre waiting for us. It could be anyone.”

  “What’s going to happen?”

  “I don’t know, but don’t worry. When I was there last time, I ended up playing billiards with a deputy police chief all night. It was okay.”

  “And did he?” I looked at her trying to understand how far things went that night.

  “It was rather innocent. He just kind of flirted with me, but nothing too serious.”

  “Did you ever see him again?”

  “No.”

  “Do you think he’ll be there tonight? And who do you think I’ll meet?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Hoa pressed the automatic ignition button. I straddled my motorbike and did likewise.

  “It’s not far,” Hoa said. “Just follow me.”

  We drove downtown past the city center and the market, which was boarded up and quiet. We passed the cinema which had a scarce crowd based on the number of vehicles out front. Then we pulled into the courtyard of a large old colonial house. The sign out front read “People’s Council Guest House.” I had spent many nights with many strangers, but for some reason I was nervous. I was used to men coming to me – coming to sing Karaoke and then asking for something more – coming to spend the night in a hotel only to spend the night with me. But this was different. I was no longer on my own turf, and I had no idea what to expect.

  We both wore our traditional ao dai, and I must admit we were beautiful. We parked our motorbikes off to the left of the house and entered through the front door. A man dressed in a tux greeted us – it was the first time I ever saw a tux in Vietnam – and pointed us through the main doors into a large hall which was decorated with teak furniture with mother of pearl inlays. Only two men mingled about in the hall. They looked at us when we entered but kept their distance.

  “Just be patient,” said Hoa. “They’ll come for us.”

  I felt nervous – almost sick in the stomach. I had turned away from this kind of lifestyle only to find myself once again in a high risk situation. We stood there silently, glancing every few seconds to the individuals who whispered in the corner. Finally, one of those men, a tall slender one who walked with his shoulders back and head held high, approached us.

  “Miss My Phuong?”

  “Yes.”

  “Right this way.”

  I glanced at Hoa, and she nudged me on with a soft push.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “Go ahead.”

  He led me to the opposite end of the room, and up the staircase to the first room on the left at the top of the landing. I looked down to where Hoa stood, but she had already gone. I felt very much alone.

  “Go on in,” the man said and then turned and made his way back downstairs.

  I slowly opened the door and walked into the large suite which was tastefully decorated with vibrant red and green colored paintings depicting various scenes of rural Vietnam. The room included a work space with a large wooden desk, a sitting area with a sofa, loveseat, coffee table, and a large bed with high wooden posts. On the opposite side of the suite stood a man in a business suit. He stared out the window and could only be seen from behind. He had black hair with strands of grey on the side. Closing the door behind me, I walked over to the sofa.

  “Hello, sir.”

  The man turned around. It was Mr. Duc.

  “Hello, My Phuong,” he said.

  My heart raced but my mind was blank.

  “Please, sit down,” he said as I sat on one end of the sofa and he came over and sat opposite me on the love seat. “It is very nice that I get to see you again. Maybe you are surprised?”

  I nodded.

  “The American teacher said you were her best English pupil ever, so your English must be very good.”

  I nodded.

  “There is no need to be so formal My Phuong. I thought maybe we could be friends, and perhaps you could teach me some English. Mine is only so-so, but I would like to improve. Would you be able to help me?”

  “Yes, of course. It would be my honor to help you learn English.”

  “Excellent. Could we start tomorrow evening around the same time?”

  “Yes.”

  “Very good. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

  “Okay.”

  “And I suppose you remember the way out?”

  “Yes, of course. Goodbye sir.”

  That was it. I strained to imagine what was really going on. Hoa had informed me about many things that went on at these get-togethers, but English was never one of them. He wanted help with English. Then I started wondering why he only wanted help with English. Did he not find me attractive? Did I do something wrong? Would Co Thu be furious with me tomorrow? Would I be in danger because I did not meet expectations? My mind twirled and turned as I left the room, descended the staircase and went out the front door. The tall, thin man had already pull
ed my motorbike around front and was waiting for me as I exited the building.

  “Good evening, My Phuong. We will see you tomorrow.”

  How did he already know that? I pondered.

  I nodded kindly at the man, got on the motorbike and rode off wondering what Hoa was doing and what was really going on. When I got home, I got something cold to drink and sat back in bed, waiting for Hoa and replaying the evening into my mind. I hadn’t expected to be home at 9:35.

  I dozed off around midnight and finally heard Hoa enter the room around 4AM. I immediately jumped out of bed, and she told me all about the intimate evening she spent with some official. Then she asked what had happened with me. When I told her that I met with Mr. Duc for five minutes so he could ask me if I could teach him English, she refused to believe me. We drank and laughed at each other for the next two hours until we both finally fell asleep.

  _________

  The next evening, I arrived back at the guest house at nine PM, went to the large suite on the second floor, and talked to Mr. Duc in English for an hour. Then he sent me home. The same thing happened again on Monday and then Wednesday. Hoa couldn’t believe that I was merely giving him English lessons. In fact, she started using English lessons as a rather unique euphemism. When we would be walking together past a Karaoke shop, she would say ‘I wonder if they are giving English lessons tonight?’ or ‘I had the best English lesson last night.’ I told her she could joke all she wanted but English was the only thing going on with Mr. Duc.

  At work, Co Thu treated me strangely. She kept complimenting me on things like ‘Oh, My Phuong, you gave that man an excellent cut today. Keep up the great work.’ It was like I could do no wrong.

  Every second day or so, I would receive a phone call on my cell phone informing me of a lesson that evening, and so I would dress up in my best clothes and promptly show up to greet the city’s top official. Mr. Duc puzzled me. He showed me great kindness and respect. When we studied English, he never sat directly beside me but always on the loveseat opposite the sofa. He seemed genuinely interested in practicing his English, and I admired him for that. He was, as far as I knew, the only politician in the country that I did admire. He was the only man I had been alone with that did not make an advance on me. He never once indicated that he wanted me for anything other than English lessons. I knew that this was not true, but I relished the fact that he was restrained to the extreme.

  On the second Saturday evening of our English lessons, I met him for the sixth time in nine days. I had been wearing two different ao dais that I kept alternating every time I saw him. That night, however, I wore a short, tight-fitting black dress. I think I wanted to get his attention. In some bizarre way, I wanted to know if he really intended our meetings for something else all along. As he sat down in his normal location, I once again sat opposite him on the sofa.

  “Mr. Duc. I wonder if it might be helpful if I sit closer to you. Maybe we could read this book together, and I could help you with your pronunciation.”

  I couldn’t believe how forward I was being. It felt like a game, and I had to admit I was starting to enjoy it.

  “If you think that would be best.”

  I got up out of my seat and went over and sat beside him. My thigh rubbed up against his leg as I sat down. I knew this was the end of the line. I could have been content to be Mr. Duc’s English teacher. I could have been content to sit opposite him, but it was eating me up. I’m sure he knew what it was doing to me. He treated me with respect, but I felt like his play-thing. I didn’t know how to have a relationship built on respect. I only knew how to have one kind of relationship, and I could not tolerate him manipulating me like this anymore. For wasn’t he manipulating me? Wasn’t he just waiting to move in for the kill? It was easier to just give in and get on with it.

  “Mr. Duc. Maybe we do not have to do so much talking this evening.”

  I reached out and felt his newly shaven face. Then I kissed him, and I became his.

  I continued seeing Mr. Duc for “English lessons” three or four times a week over the next month. The tall skinny man always greeted me out front; Co Thu continued treating me with smiles and special compliments. Eventually I told Hoa that she was right about the English lessons. Over the course of that first month, I had grown quite fond of Mr. Duc. He treated me with kindness and dignity. He was gentle and soft-spoken; I always felt safe with him. He never warned me about keeping our secrecy or threatened me in anyway. I felt myself becoming loyal to him. It took me those four weeks to realize that I hadn’t reaped any financial benefits from my relationship with Mr. Duc. He never once offered me money, but I really didn’t care.

  “Mr. Duc,” I asked one evening. “Why did you ask me to come give you English lessons?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Did you have intentions for more than just English?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think you did. I’m just not sure why you reacted the way you did.”

  “Well, in some ways you are right,” he said. “I have never been too aggressive in relationships. They either work out or they do not. Love either happens or it does not. It cannot be forced. Do you not agree?”

  I contemplated my response. I only knew about two kinds of love between a man and a woman: the first being forced upon me and the second being when I forced myself onto someone else in order to get something in return. Mutual love never just happened in my life.

  “When I met my wife, I was a faculty member at Thai Nguyen University. She was a young teacher just out of university. She attracted me right away – not just her looks – but also her intellect and her compassion for others. I think she liked me for my level-headedness and my rather easy going manner. I suppose I wasn’t too bad looking back then as well. And love just happened. I’ve been happily married to her for twenty years.”

  I turned my head away slightly as he said this. I wondered how someone could be happily married yet carry on an affair.

  “Then why do you come here with me?” I asked boldly.

  “There is com and then there is pho. I’m sure you understand.”

  I understood clearly. It was difference between a bowl of steamed rice and a bowl of noodle soup. The staple of every Vietnamese meal is com – steamed rice. Com is the bedrock – the foundation. Every family must have com. It is the substance you depend on for nourishment and sustenance. Pho is the Vietnamese beef noodle soup. You eat it at different times – perhaps late at night on the street, or early in the morning on the way to work. It is a quick tasty meal with exotic spices and a hint of chili. It’s the anti-com. Pho is the treat that you give yourself when the everyday rice has become a little bland, predictable or unimaginative. His wife was the com. I was Mr. Duc’s pho.

  “But you know, you just don’t eat pho from any place,” he continued in his metaphor. “Some bowls may look attractive but taste salty, or bitter. Some pho places are not hygienic at all. Pho must be carefully selected and discretely enjoyed. But just because I enjoy pho, does not mean that com is not important to me. On the contrary, one could never live without rice, but one could conceivably live without pho.”

  I understood the meaning all too well.

  “So I must make myself not seem too bitter,” I said playfully.

  “It is highly unlikely that you could ever be bitter. Besides, I like teachers, and you are helping me a lot with my English.”

  Mr. Duc smiled, stood up and went over to a large wooden cabinet that stood behind the wooden desk.

  “I want to show you something. Come here.”

  I walked over to him as he opened the wardrobe doors revealing a large safe built into the wood. The safe door had two key holes like that of a safety deposit box. One key was already in one of the locks. Mr. Duc reached into his pocket and took out his key chain which had another one of the keys. He inserted it, turned the lock handle and the door creaked open.

  “Do you like this
?”

  He held up a white gold necklace with eight diamond pendants hanging off it.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Like you. Here.”

  He reached over and put it around my neck. And then he kissed me.

  “You shall wear this when you come. It is stunning on you. And you should also get a new wardrobe to match this necklace. Which reminds me. I haven’t given you your monthly salary for teaching me yet.”

  He reached back into the safe and pulled out a stack of American bills and handed them to me. I shied away from taking them and tried to give them back, but he insisted. At that moment, I realized the trap I had been lured into from which there was no escape. It all seemed too obvious now. The money was part of it. It was way more than teaching money or even Karaoke bar hostess money. This was a sum of money that came with deep obligation and serious expectations. But it was more than just the money that frightened me. The open safe said it all. He not only showed me the location of the safe, he showed me freely how the safe could be opened. He showed me the contents of the safe. This was an open relationship – one that could not be made null or void. There was no walking away from this point on. I belonged to Mr. Duc, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. At that moment, those eight diamonds hung around my neck like eight millstones. I was drowning.

  A Most Dangerous Customer

  Playing the part of a prominent politician’s mistress twisted my being every which way. Certain days I liked it. I liked dressing up and spending time with Mr. Duc. He treated me well, and I got more comfortable with him as time went on. I suppose in many ways I was becoming his second wife. Polygamy had a long history in Vietnam. My great uncle had three wives and seventeen children even though the practice is no longer legal. I was the dutiful second – showing up when needed – keeping my mouth quiet when not. The guest house became a second home to me. Cuong, the tall skinny man who always greeted me, went out of his way to make me comfortable. I continued cutting hair as normal, and Co Thu became very lenient with my hours. Everyone was showing me great favors. Hoa even became a little jealous of the kind of money I was bringing in – and it was significant. Mr. Duc gave me over $1000 USD a month for my English lessons. But at the same time, I was never so scared in my life. I saw no way out – no future – no lasting happiness. I would never be anything more than a mistress to Mr. Duc. What if he would tire of me? What if I did something to embarrass him? No one had ever threatened me to stay quiet about our relationship, and perhaps it was precisely this silence that scared me the most.