The Half-Child

by Angela Savage

  The brisk walk to the Blue Lagoon was enough to make Jayne break out in a sweat. To the left of the entrance was a stage the size of a card-table where a dancer wearing a strategically draped lei of silk flowers and a grass micro-miniskirt was admiring her moves in a full-length mirror framed with plastic shells. Jayne peered around the woman’s legs to check her reflection.

  Her red face and messy hair put her at a disadvantage, given what she had planned. She couldn’t explain her investigation to Tommy and Mitch. Leroy was Tommy’s cousin and she doubted they’d conspire against him. She’d have to try and rekindle Tommy’s interest of the previous evening and, when his guard was down, get her hands on his photos. What it might take to have him drop his guard made her nervous.

  For once Jayne welcomed the icy blast of air-conditioning.

  She paused in the doorway, allowing the sweat to evaporate and the heat subside while she scanned the crowd for Tommy and Mitch.

  She saw them but they didn’t see her, distracted by their drinking companions: two Thai women wearing the same costume as the go-go dancer at the door, only with smaller leis and skimpier grass skirts. More women, some topless, danced on stages in each corner of the room, mirrors capturing their every angle. Jayne could always pick the newcomers as the ones who made an effort to look erotic. The old hands just looked bored.

  Tommy and Mitch had a bottle of Johnnie Walker Red Label whisky, a bucket of ice and a collection of mixers in the middle of their table. Their hostesses took turns to top up their highball glasses after each sip and at the rate they were going, the whisky wouldn’t last the hour.

  Jayne summoned Tommy’s companion over and offered the woman one thousand baht of Jim Delbeck’s money to change places with her. The waitress raised her eyebrows, shrugged and accepted the money without comment. Jayne strolled over to the table. Tommy’s eyes lit up when he saw her.

  ‘When you didn’t show up at the B-52 Bar I thought you’d left town,’ she said, taking a seat and nodding at Mitch.

  ‘Now I see you got a better offer. Am I that expendable?’

  She held her cigarette towards Tommy in a way she hoped made her look more femme fatale than wanker.

  ‘No m’am,’ Tommy said, flicking open his Zippo.

  ‘It’s no big deal.’ She drew back on her cigarette and blew the smoke over his head. ‘Just don’t call me m’am, okay.’

  Tommy grinned and signalled for a waitress to bring a fresh glass. He poured three fingers of whisky.

  ‘Coke?’

  ‘Soda.’

  He added ice, handed it to Jayne, leaned close. ‘I hope it’s not too strong for you.’

  His breath in her ear raised the hairs on the back of her neck. Role-playing was Jayne’s favourite part of detective work, but on this occasion she wasn’t sure what she was playing with.

  She leaned back and inhaled deeply on her cigarette.

  ‘So, have you printed that picture of me for your locker yet?’

  ‘Yes m—Jayne. I got it here. You’all want to see it?’

  Tommy unzipped his brown leather money belt and took out an envelope of photos. Jayne was relieved: this meant she didn’t have to steal his camera.

  ‘Can I see?’

  ‘Jus’ you wait a minute.’ Tommy shuffled through the prints. ‘Here it is.’

  Jayne usually didn’t like pictures of herself but this wasn’t a bad shot. Leaning against the pool table with a winning grin on her face, pool cue in one hand and cocktail in the other, she looked locker-worthy.

  ‘What else have you got in there?’ she nodded at the rest of the photos.

  ‘Oh, nuthin,’ Tommy said, ‘nuthin’ interesting.’

  Jayne sensed his discomfort and it piqued her curiosity.

  ‘Have you got a picture of your ship?’ She leaned towards him.

  ‘Yes m’am—I mean, Jayne.’

  He leafed through the pile again but held it too close to his chest for Jayne to see.

  ‘There you go: my home away from home.’

  ‘It’s big, isn’t it.’ she said, then realising how pathetic that sounded, quickly added, ‘So what exactly is your mission in Thailand?’

  ‘Oh, this is jus’ a social call for me, though Mitch here’s been working with Full Accounting.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘The Joint Task Force. You know, bringing them home, all the MIAs and POWs. From Vietnam. Laos, too.’

  Jayne nodded, although she struggled to see how they could really believe US soldiers were still being held prisoner in Southeast Asia more than twenty years after the war. Had everyone in America seen too many Chuck Norris movies?

  ‘So you here for much longer?’ she said, still eyeing the packet of photos.

  ‘We ship out tomorrow.’

  To her dismay, Tommy stuffed the envelope back into his money belt. He put his hand on her thigh and nodded at the shot of the frigate she was still holding.

  ‘Why don’ you keep that one there as a souvenir.’

  He licked his lips, just as he’d done the night before.

  Jayne drank a large gulp of whisky and reached for another cigarette. Tommy took the opportunity to lean over and kiss her lightly on the mouth. His lips felt like velvet pillows.

  Jayne returned the kiss, drawing it out while she felt for Tommy’s money belt. He tasted of scotch and Coke. Warm, sweet and bad for you. The money belt was zipped shut.

  Tommy’s lips moved from her mouth to her ear. ‘Let’s get outta here,’ he whispered.

  ‘W-what about the bill?’

  Things were moving too fast. She’d planned to pick up where the bar girl left off, get Tommy and Mitch so drunk they got careless with their belongings, steal the photos, make her getaway. Tommy had other plans.

  ‘This one’s on Mitch,’ he said, nodding to his companion who high-fived him with the hand that wasn’t up his consort’s grass skirt.

  ‘Your place or mine?’ Tommy said, putting his arm around Jayne’s waist.

  ‘Yours.’

  Her stomach fluttered with whisky, nerves, lust. Tommy’s arm felt like steel as he led her off the beach road and down a soi to the sort of guesthouse that rented more rooms by the hour than by the night.

  He steered them into an elevator. As the doors closed, he took both Jayne’s breasts in his hands, squeezed and kissed her. She broke into a renewed sweat and tried to plot an escape route. When the elevator doors opened on to the first floor, they spilled into the corridor. Tommy clamped Jayne to him with one arm, his free hand unzipping his money belt and fishing for his room key. He opened the door and carried Jayne inside.

  She felt him unclip his money belt, heard it drop to the floor. Next he slithered out of his T-shirt and started unbuttoning her blouse. She could see his cock straining at the crotch of his jeans. He saw her notice and ground his pelvis against hers, while kissing the side of her neck. When his hands slid under her bra and pinched her nipples, she gasped and pulled away.

  ‘What’s up, honey? Tommy jus’ a little too fast for you’all. I’m sorry.’

  He took her hand and pulled her back close to him, planting kisses in a line from her exposed shoulder to her ear.

  Jayne failed to suppress a moan.

  ‘No i-i-t’s not that,’ she stammered. ‘It’s j-just that I really need a shower. I’m all hot and sweaty and—’

  ‘Don’ you be worryin’ yourself about that.’ Tommy inhaled deeply against her neck to prove his point.

  She pulled away again. ‘Tommy, sweetie.’ She took his face in her hands. ‘I know it’s a hang-up, but it would make me feel so much more relaxed if I could have a shower.

  Please?’

  Tommy shrugged. ‘Okay, okay, honey, whatever. Why don’ we take a shower together?’

  ‘Great.’

  Jayne wracked her brain for a way to stall him. Tommy took off his jeans and started on her belt.

  ‘Ah, Tommy, I—I need to do something private first.’

  �
�What’s that?’

  He undid her belt buckle.

  ‘It’s to do with…um…contraception.’

  ‘Don’t you worry none about that. I got rubbers.’ He reached into his jeans back pocket. ‘US Army issue.’

  ‘That’s great,’ she said, kissing the closely cropped hair on the crown of his head as he fumbled with the button on her jeans. ‘But I use a diaphragm as an added precaution.’

  Tommy looked up from his work with raised eyebrows.

  ‘Why don’ you’all just go on the pill?’

  Because then guys think they don’t have to bother with condoms.

  ‘Makes me sick,’ she said.

  He squatted back on his haunches and shook his head.

  Nothing like talk of contraception to dampen a man’s ardour.

  ‘Why don’t you get started,’ Jayne said, ‘run the shower for us and get in. I’ll only be a couple of minutes.’

  To her relief, Tommy nodded and headed for the bathroom.

  ‘Don’ be long now, honey,’ he called over his shoulder.

  Jayne snatched the money belt from the floor, whisked out the photos and stuffed them into the waistband of her jeans.

  She didn’t stop to do up her belt or blouse, but clutched her handbag to her chest for cover. As soon as she heard Tommy step under the running water, she headed for the door.

  ‘Just a minute,’ she called.

  She took the stairs, pausing when she got outside to fasten her buttons. A mistake.

  ‘Hey!’

  She raised her head to see Mitch with his Thai companion from Blue Lagoon coming down the soi towards her.

  Jayne ran around the first corner she came to. A blind alley. Not a wise move. She ducked into the portico of what looked like a warehouse and pressed her back against the door. It gave way against her weight, sending her tumbling inside arse first. She sprung to her feet and spun around to face a stage lined with thirty-odd Thai beauties, resplendent in gowns, big hair, tiaras and high-gloss lipstick. Apart from two portable bench seats, the space in front of them was empty. The whole room was flooded with harsh fluorescent light, leaving nowhere to hide.

  Smiles thawed in the wake of Jayne’s incursion. Hands were raised to open mouths. One woman sneered as if Jayne was something distasteful she’d found on the sole of her jewel-encrusted stiletto heel. Another swooned with the theatricality of a soap opera actress.

  The exaggerated femininity gave them away. This was a pageant for kratoey, Thailand’s infamous ‘ladyboys’.

  Kratoey could be scathing misogynists, especially en masse like this. Jayne had to think fast.

  ‘Younger sisters,’ she said with a wai, ‘my name is Jayne.

  There’s a tall, dark, handsome Marine chasing me and I don’t want anything to do with him. I need to hide fast. Can you help me?’

  There was a moment’s stunned silence as they took in Jayne’s ability to speak Thai, her flattering form of address and the implications of her predicament. Then the room burst into a flurry of activity.

  Under the direction of their leader—she was the tallest and the only one in red—the beauty queens rearranged themselves in a group formation. Those with the highest splits up the sides of their dresses sat up front in mermaid pose. Others shuffled as fast as their straight skirts would allow and stood behind them. A bench was spirited up from the floor to form a middle row.

  ‘Girls with broadest shoulders,’ the leader barked, ‘get into the second row. That means you, Jojo. Quickly.’

  ‘But Ajarn Thanya—’

  ‘Don’t argue,’ the one addressed as Teacher Thanya snapped. ‘Move closer together. Now you, farang—’

  ‘It’s Jayne,’ she piped up.

  ‘Get behind the middle row.’

  Jayne did as she was told, plunging into a fug of perfume and hairspray.

  ‘Girls at the back on each end, step back a little. That’s it. Khun Jayne, crouch down.’

  The directive put Jayne’s eyes at arse-level. She wondered how many of those sculpted curves were ‘surgically enhanced’, as the magazine ads put it.

  ‘Duck as low as you can,’ Thanya said.

  At that moment the door burst open and Jayne heard Tommy’s voice. Mitch must have set him on her tail.

  ‘Where are you, you little—?’ he began. ‘What the—?’

  ‘Sawadee ka,’ Thanya said, the bark in her voice giving way to a purr.

  Jayne felt a rustle of skirts around her as the group bowed in unison. She squatted down on her heels.

  ‘Can we help you?’ Thanya said in English.

  ‘I don’t know, m’am,’ Tommy said, still angry. ‘Any of you seen a white girl, about five-eight, dark curly hair, Australian?’

  ‘Australian?’ Thanya said. ‘I’ve never heard of an Australian girl trying to compete in a Thai beauty contest, have you?’

  ‘No, m’am,’ Tommy said. ‘But—’

  ‘Thai girls are so much more beautiful than Australian girls that it wouldn’t be fair,’ she added. ‘Don’t you agree?’

  Yeah, yeah, rub it in, Jayne thought, brushing a stray feather from her face.

  ‘Yes, m’am,’ Tommy said. ‘But—’

  ‘So maybe you see a Thai girl you like better than the farang you came in looking for.’

  ‘Well, sure but—’

  Jayne heard him hesitate, imagined him weighing up his options. Should he pursue Jayne as a matter of pride?

  Or was he better off cutting his losses and forgetting about her in the arms of one of these beauties? She supposed she should feel flattered that he even gave it a second thought.

  ‘Or maybe you’d rather keep looking for your Australian friend.’ Thanya tapped her toe on the concrete floor.

  ‘No, m’am,’ Tommy said. ‘It’s just that you ladies look so lovely an’ all. I can’t possibly choose…’

  What a charmer, Jayne thought, her legs starting to cramp.

  ‘Count me out,’ murmured one in Thai. ‘Chocolate is bad for my figure.’

  A whoop of laughter was silenced when Thanya cleared her throat.

  ‘Perhaps you like me to choose for you?’

  ‘M’am, that sure would help me out.’

  Jayne smiled. Thanya had played Tommy perfectly.

  ‘Rasmi?’ she called.

  Jayne craned her head to see which set of stockinged legs stepped forward. They were long and slender, the muscular side of shapely, tottering on gold stilettos and encased in a figure-hugging skirt of purple and gold silk, split to mid-thigh at the back.

  Tommy let out his breath with a whistle.

  ‘Sawadee ka,’ Jayne heard Rasmi say, imagined her bowing low.

  ‘Sawadee ka to you, too, m’am,’ Tommy said, using a form of address in Thai reserved for women and kratoey, sending another titter through the group.

  ‘Hush,’ Thanya said. ‘I’m sure Rasmi will take your mind off the loss of your Australian friend,’ she said to Tommy.

  ‘Yes m’am.’

  He sounded so eager, Jayne almost felt embarrassed for him.

  Rasmi might have been going away for months, the way she took leave, hugging each person in the group and wishing them all chowk dee. Just when Jayne thought her legs would give out, Rasmi finally escorted Tommy from the building.

  There was a collective pause while everyone waited to be sure they’d gone, followed by a burst of shrieks, gasps and chatter.

  ‘Oh my god, did you see his ass,’ one started.

  ‘Ooh, and those broad shoulders—so manly,’ said another.

  ‘Thick neck,’ said a third, ‘not so good.’

  Jayne stood and stretched her legs.

  ‘I bet he’s got a huge cock,’ the first one added.

  ‘Is that why you were running away, girlfriend—too hot for you to handle?’

  This from a kratoey with hands on her hips and a nasty smile.

  Jayne felt the gaze of the group. The easy way out was to say yes, the Marine was too ho
t for her, let the kratoey have another laugh at her expense, and get the hell out of there.

  But she felt an irrational urge to impress them.

  ‘Actually, I’m a private detective,’ she said. ‘I stole something from that Marine—evidence for a case I’m working on.’

  To her satisfaction, this sent a new buzz through the group.

  ‘Ooh, how exciting!’ said one, clapping her hands.

  ‘Are you a good enough detective to find me a husband?’ said Jojo, clasping her hands to her bosom, which seemed to deflate a little under the pressure.

  ‘Are you kidding, no detective’s that good,’ another weighed in.

  ‘That Marine’s in for quite a night,’ Thanya said, fiddling with the tiny crystal chandelier that hung from her earlobe.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Jayne asked.

  ‘Well, he’s already had his pocket picked once. And now he’s gone home with Rasmi who has a special talent for separating her admirers from their hard-earned cash using only her natural charms and a little sleeping medicine applied to a part of the body any red-blooded man would find hard not to lick.’

  Jayne raised her eyebrows. Stories about sex workers in Pattaya who drugged and robbed their clients were weekly fodder for the Thai tabloids. Most infamous was a kratoey alleged to administer sedatives by rubbing them on her breasts, dubbed by the press as the ‘thief with tainted nipples’. Up to now Jayne thought it was just another urban myth.

  ‘She never gets reported,’ Thanya said. ‘She leaves a note saying she has their contact details and some compromising photos that her sister will send by post addressed to the lady of the house if anything ever happens to her. No one’s ever dared call her bluff.’

  Jayne smiled and shook her head. ‘If only I’d known.

  Next time I need something pilfered, I’m calling Rasmi.’

  A couple of the kratoey giggled but Jayne could see that her interest value was wearing off.

  ‘Sisters, I’m very grateful for your help. I won’t keep you any longer from your rehearsal.’

  ‘A good thing, too,’ Thanya clapped her hands again and gestured for the girls to get back in line. ‘We have too much to do. Finalise the music. Fix the lighting. Choreograph the parades.’

  ‘What’s the occasion?’ Jayne said.

  ‘You know the Tiffany Cabaret?’