I hear a commotion and look up from my paper. Some young punk is grieving Non, probably rousting him for money. Non sees me and gives a quick shake of his head. No. He doesn’t want me involved. That’s too bad. I would have kicked that punk’s ass up between his shoulders. But chances are, he is involved with the local mafia, and my involvement would hurt Non. A few minutes later, the little dickhead is leaving with a wad of baht in his hand. I take note of what he looks like. Maybe I’ll catch him out one night and settle up for old Non. Now, that is a pleasant thought.
Horns honking, brakes squealing, and it’s about a hundred in the shade. This is Bangkok, and I feel at home here already. Kicking back, drinking my make-believe coffee, I feel almost at peace. I love the frantic pace, kind of like watching ants on the move. It seems so random, but it all has purpose. What’s my purpose? I wonder. Right now it’s to drink my coffee and read the paper.
Chapter 2
I like to idle my time away at the mall. In Thailand, they have a wonderful sense of organization when it comes to parking at the mall. The taxi pulls up, and my fare is ninety baht. That’s three dollars. I walk past the fountain and toss a coin for luck.
In Bangkok, the show never ends – the scenes just change. I have a preference for Fashion Island. I see this girl every day, working at the Dairy Queen. She is tall, as Thais go, maybe five-seven and about one-hundred-twenty pounds. Unlike most Thais, she never smiles. She isn’t beautiful. The left side of her face looks like someone used a cheese grater and a pick ax on her. She tries to hide the scars by brushing her hair to the side.
I go up and order a pretend milkshake. Real milkshakes are another thing you just can’t find in Thailand. More like ice milk, but hey, it’s cold and wet. She averts her eyes downward when I smile at her.
I take my milkshake, sit, and watch the masses. I fantasize about saying hello to her and talking about our lives. In reality, I only worked up the courage to watch her from a distance. This girl has a wounded soul. I know the look. It’s the same look I see in the mirror every day. I want to tell her that we are the same, but I know she will think, Farang – bah! Yeah, crazy foreigner – that’s me.
There isn’t much for me to do during the day; the places I hang out don’t start hopping till around nine at night. For now, I slurp my milkshake and watch fine ass walk by. Hey, it’s free entertainment. I’m easily entertained. But then my mind starts to wander...
Looking through a scope at a target nine-hundred meters away, watching a target being his normal self, either makes you second-guess your mission, or it reaffirms your mission. I watched one bad guy for over an hour before I put a shot on him. I saw him interact with his family – a loving father, a great husband – right up until the wife and kids left in the car, and ten minutes later another car pulled up. Three young girls got out and were ordered to strip. Right out in the open in front of the hired help. He walked up to one after another, sticking his finger in their asses. Three slow breaths and ... tick tock ... I stopped his clock. He didn’t even know he was being watched.
I had a friend tell me about a shot he made on a woman. She was a specialist in torture, and her victims were reported as MIA of course, because who could explain what she left of them? He shot her at seven-hundred meters after watching her tend her garden for fifteen minutes. She had the face of an angel – but watch one of her videos, and you’d see the other side. We all have another side we try to hide. For some, it’s darker than others...
I watch the girl at Dairy Queen. She is cleaning a spotless surface to keep busy. A customer makes an order, staring at the scars. I see the girl’s shoulders sag ever so slightly. It’s like every time someone stares, she is slapped. Something about her captivates my interest. Maybe it’s the way she moves when she thinks no one is around. A wounded dove with a heart bigger than most people have ever known.
Life isn’t fair. No kidding. I learned that lesson early. I also learned I can cheat fate once in a while, level the playing field, if you will. Watching the girl reminds me of the humanity I lost long ago. I miss being normal.
A young stud walks towards her. Wait for it... I can tell this will be interesting. She doesn’t look happy. The body language between these two screams of fear versus intimidation. My stomach tightens. I hate bullies. He is whispering. I can tell she doesn’t like it. “Mai mee ngeun!” – no money – she pleads.
I see the girl take money from the till, handing it to the thug. He rewards her with a cuff to the back of her head. I stand to take a position on this asshole. I can’t do it here, but his arrogance will be his downfall shortly. This slick bastard will have his own car, and I intend to open his door for him.
I follow Slick through the mall, watching him roust more victims. Slick wears Levi jeans four sizes too big, a hoodie, and a ball cap turned sideways. His Ray-Ban sunglasses ride halfway down his nose like a big-time rapper. His beat-down is long overdue.
I follow Slick out to the parking lot. He walks to a Mitsubishi sports car. I scan for parking attendants. None in sight. I close the gap. The car alarm tweets, doors unlock. He’s about to open the door when I hit him with a kidney punch and bounce his face off the window. Kidney punches hurt twice as bad as the average kick in the balls. I grab Slick by the hair and put his face through the window. I heave him back, open the door, and shove him inside. He is out cold. I check his pockets, taking all his money. His face is shredded by glass. He will wear those scars for life. I slam the door shut and kick a respectable dent in the door. Welcome to the big leagues, bitch. Ain’t quite the same as strong-arming girls, is it?
I head back to the mall via a different entrance. No witnesses, no troubles. The asshole never saw who hit him. I head to the Dairy Queen, wanting another shake. I order my usual. The girl is still visibly shaken. I know she is worried about how to explain money missing from the till. I know she is wondering how much more pain and humiliation she must suffer to satisfy the gods that fuck with her life.
I pay for the shake and drop a large tip into the tip jar. She is visibly stunned. I mumble, “Mai pen rai krub,” and walk away.
She calls to me, bows, and says, “Kob khun ka.” Thank you.
I return the bow and repeat, “Mai pen rai.” You’re welcome. Her smile makes it all worth it. I’m glad to do something nice for a change. The tip was ten thousand baht. Slick likes to carry a wad of cash. He should know better. The fool might like to see a doctor when he wakes up, though.
As I continue on my daily routine, such as it is, I think about the girl at Dairy Queen. I was once her ... weak, like the ones assholes prefer to fuck with. That was a long time ago, though – a different life. I was born with a cleft palate, everyone’s favorite target for my first twelve years. I learned a lot from the experience. First, how to run and run fast. Second, that I didn’t like playing the victim.
Bullies often travel in packs. Like wolves, most are half-assed jocks with little dicks. You don’t see a lot of jocks make the SEAL teams for good reason. They are too hung-up on their own sense of self-importance. They can’t think past the day they caught the game winning pass. That shit just doesn’t work on the teams.
I am an average looking guy, average build, and I blend in with the crowd. With me, it always was and always will be the men on my team. My needs are always second to theirs, and fuck the game-winning pass. It takes a team to do it.
I also have another gift that, perhaps, I am too gifted in. I can kill another human being and feel absolutely no remorse, especially if I figure he has it coming. I can look a bad guy in the eye and stop his clock without hesitation.
I used to be a flag-waving patriot. My attitude was always, Take my country, wrong or right, because the end justified the means. One day I woke up and realized that our bad guys were as bad as the bad guys we were fighting. It wasn’t a fluke that we were sent to play bodyguard to the perverts and scum of the world. We kill a bad guy because another bad guy doesn’t like him, or because he won’t be our bad guy
.
Don’t get me wrong. Killing bad guys is what really turns my screws. But letting bad guys live because the bottom-feeders in DC want to use them ... that I can’t abide.
My fall from grace started when I ended a mission by putting a .45 ACP through the right eye of a particularly foul bad guy who also happened to be our bad guy. The year was 2000, and POTUS must have been looking to make a statement to help his VP. We were on a so-called ‘fact-finding’ mission, and our job was to protect a piece-of-shit poppy exporter who was supposed to lead us to bin Laden. What he led us to was a village where he had to inspect the harvest. He was a big shot in the region, and the locals bent low to kiss his ass. Fathers were pimping out their ten-year-old boys to this devout Muslim – so he wouldn’t be tempted by any virgin girls, I guess. He made a big show of bragging about how the USA sent their best to do his bidding.
Normally, I wouldn’t take it personally. All these pretenders like to put on a show for the locals. But this pig took it to a whole new level. He had us observe his play time after cornholing a boy. Thirty seconds into his jerkfest, my 45 stopped his clock. Any idiot on the planet should know this asshole didn’t have any clue where we might find bin Laden. I would have been court-martialed on the spot, but the Cock-In-Ass types were forewarned that we would spill the beans that Slick Willie had us guarding pedophiles.
I remember the look on that goat-fucker’s face when I drew my side arm. He just couldn’t believe I would do it. The locals had a cleanup detail on their hands, and we beat feet out of there. My only regret is that I didn’t kill him before the fuckfest started. As a military man, it’s hard going against orders.
* * * * *
I go back to the Dairy Queen. I want to talk to the girl. I don’t know why, but she has me a bit twisted. She isn’t busy, and I see the tip jar is empty again. Thais can be very protective of their money, especially when it’s ten thousand baht. She looks at me and smiles. Ah, she sees me in a different light. If she knew what I really was, she would run screaming. Most people can’t relate to an engine of death.
I smile; she bows. The Thai are a very polite people. I return the bow and introduce myself. “Sa wad dee krub. Phom cheu Robert krub.” Hello, I am Robert.
She replies in kind. “Sa wad dee ka chan cheu Mina ka.”
I am smiling my best I am harmless smile, and she is giving me her best I wonder what he wants smile.
“Mina, I want to take you to dinner to tonight,” I say.
Her smile falters. I know what she is thinking – she accepted my large tip, and now I expect something in return.
“I just want company during my meal,” I explain quickly, “and hope to get to know you better. I have been coming here every day, trying to work up enough courage to ask you.” I resort to telling the truth, figuring that is the best approach.
“Yes, khun Robert, you always ask for same milkshake. I see you watch me sometimes. But boss, he no let date customer. He have rule.”
“Mina, please let me take you to dinner,” I say, determined not to take no for answer. “I want to know you. We are the same. Look in my eyes, we are the same. We feel the same pain. Mina, please just give me one chance. If you’re worried it’s about the money, it’s not. That was your money to begin with. I just got it back for you. He won’t hurt you again, and he won’t bother you again – not as long as I am alive. I promise.”
Mina is stunned and looks to see if we have unwanted attention. “Khun Robert, why you do that for me? You don’t know me, you don’t know anything about me. I am ugly girl, but I need to work to help my family. I am not bar girl or bad girl. I just work.”
“Mina, you are not ugly girl,” I say, looking her straight in the eyes and meaning it. “If you want, I will show you my scars. Mine are worse. Please let me be your friend, let me help you. I need to do this for you and for me – or I will be lost. I will never hurt you, I promise you.”
Out of a sense of obligation, or maybe my sincerity and good looks – yeah, that’s got to be it – Mina finally agrees to dinner. She seems relieved when the conversation ends. I just hope she won’t have a change of heart.
* * * * *
As I approach the Dairy Queen, I feel like a kid on his first date. I know I need this date if I am going to save myself – I just don’t understand why.
I watch Mina talking to her relief, a girl about fifteen. The teen wears too much makeup and is disrespectful. The teen turns on the charm for the farang, but I ignore her and give Mina my best smile, saying, “Mina, I am so happy to see you.”
Mina gives me a shy wave, relishing the attention. She gathers her things. “I need change clothes,” she says. “Is okay with you we stop comfort room?”
“Of course, Mina. I want you to be comfortable.”
I wait outside as Mina changes her clothes. I watch people go by, farang with young girls, ladyboys strutting with other ladyboys, schoolgirls in their uniforms. They all talk on their cell phones. You never see Thais without their cell phones.
Mina comes out wearing jeans and a pink tee-shirt. Her hair still covers the damaged side of her face, but at least she is making eye contact. I see the hint of a smile.
Pizza Hut is crowded. Thais love Pizza Hut and ketchup on their pizza. Go figure. The hostess seats us quickly. The Thai are an efficient people, and very polite.
The day’s special includes two large pizzas. I ask for a large seafood pizza with the second to go, using the special as an excuse to get a second pizza for Mina to take home without embarrassing her.
As we wait for our order, I ask her, “How was your day?”
She smiles, seeming relieved I’ve broken the conversational ice. “Day okay. Not very busy, not many rude people.”
Soon she is chatting with me like we’re long-lost friends. When our pizza arrives, Mina is shy to start, so I serve her a big slice. She dips her slice in ketchup. Odd. We only eat half, so I box the leftovers to go, along with the second pizza that comes with the special.
In Thailand, it’s common for people to sit and chat long after the meal is finished, and we are no exception. I don’t ask about her face, because it is too personal. I tell her about my life, that I was a sailor. I don’t tell her what I did in the Navy, and carefully avoid details that might scare her off. Well after nine, I can tell Mina is ready to go, but she is too polite to say. I’m pleased that this really has been an excellent first date and offer, “Will you allow me take you home, to make sure you’re safe?” Smooth.
She blushes, then nods her head yes. “You can meet my parents, if you like.”
“Yes,” I agree before thinking. “I would like that very much.” Not so smooth. I’m suddenly worried, because her parents will see me for the animal that I am – a whore-mongering, unemployed drunk. Who would trust their child with someone like me? My headache comes back. Don’t blow this, I tell myself. You need to keep it together for a little longer.
Mina is concerned. “You okay? You look sad.” She sees we are the same, both with deep wounds.
“I am very happy,” I assure her. “I didn’t want this night to end. I enjoyed our time together. Please tell me that you had fun too, that we can do this again.”
“Yes, khun Robert, I have fun. I wish we can do again.” She lowers her gaze, then says, “Khun Robert ... can I ask?”
“You can ask anything, Mina. Don’t be afraid. I want you to be comfortable with me.”
She doesn’t look at me as she says quickly, “Khun Robert, why you take me dinner? Why you like me? I know I am nothing, ugly girl.”
I take hold of her hand. “Mina, I see your heart, your pain, because we are the same. That is why I share dinner with you. We will be good friends, and you will always have me. If you are sad or lonely or scared, you can call me.”
Mina’s eyes brim with tears. “Khun Robert, how do I say thank you? You so kind to ugly girl.”
“Mina, you can say thank you by not saying that you are an ugly girl anymore. Thank me by
learning to like yourself the way I like who you are.”
Mina smiles. “I will try.”
“Let’s get you home so your family doesn’t worry.”
* * * * *
The taxi ride is short. She only lives a few miles away. Her parents’ house is a small home, but in good condition. A nice flower garden decorates the front. Mom and Dad sit out front, waiting. Great. I know they waited up. It’s my experience that older Thais usually go to bed early, wake up early. I tell the taxi to wait, that I’ll be right back.
I walk Mina to their porch, grateful it’s dark. I don’t want them to get a good look. My heart is racing. I am genuinely afraid of her parents. I know they have seen it all. I don’t want this mission to fail. I know it’s my last chance to find my way back.
I bow. “Sa wad dee krub.” Hello.
They do a casual bow and smile. Never let the Thai smile fool you. It doesn’t always mean ‘I am happy to see you,’ or ‘I am happy about you.’ It’s a damned effective poker face.
Mina introduces me as khun Robert. They converse in Thai. Her parents smile and nod, never taking their eyes off me. Her father asks Mina questions. She is embarrassed. She turns and says to me, “My father ask me. He want to know what your work.”
“I am retired from the United States Navy,” I say, mostly for her father’s benefit.
Mina translates. Her father nods, still with the fake smile.
“My father want to know why you come Thailand, he want to know if you stay here now.”
“Tell your father that I come to Thailand because cost of living is less than USA, and I plan to stay.”
Her father says some choice words, nods curtly, and abruptly goes inside.
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