The nurse poured, the women laughed and started a sing-song.
Christ, if they could only see themselves! He’d go bonkers if his wife behaved like that! Fred saw a break in the crowd. A line of people formed a human train to keep it open and make their way down the street. He latched on at the back and a moment later was free of the congestion and making his way to the bottom of the hill.
In the taxi, the driver studied Fred in his rear-view mirror. He saw men like this every night of the week leaving Wan Chai and Lan Kwai Fong. They’d flash their cash all night, only to head back to their hotel rooms alone.
There could be commission here.
“You enjoy night?” he enquired, giving Fred a gap-tooth smile.
“It was fine.” Fred was texting Helen, having decided to use the guilt card – asking her to contact him because he was worried.
Bugger it, he thought. He’d forgotten Sarah . . . thankfully Mark, the Gentle Giant, would make sure she got home safely.
“You like a woman?” the driver asked, going straight for the jugular.
“What? No! I could have picked up any amount of pros in Long Cock,” Fred said, adopting Helen’s idiom. Why wasn’t she texting back?
“No, no – no sex – rubby-rubby. Me – I am Buddhist.” The taxi driver pointed to himself and nodded repeatedly. “This very good – best massage in Hong Kong.” He laughed. “You never have massage like this in your life, mister – I take you there.” He eagerly awaited the nod from Fred, who was now giving him his full attention.
Fred looked at the screen of his phone – still nothing. “How far is it?” he enquired, wary of a scam.
“No far – here on the island – I no charge you for going there – okay? Just fare same as you go to Excelsior, okay?” The driver kept nodding until soon Fred was nodding too.
Within minutes, the driver was navigating the car through dark narrow streets, away from the neon signs of the main thoroughfares. All the time he was muttering to himself. “No worry – very good, very good, mister.”
They came to a halt outside a dingy building. There didn’t appear to be any sign of life. The driver got out of his cab and gave a quiet tap on a small window. Fred remained in the cab and watched nervously from the back seat.
The window opened slightly and the driver started talking to a woman – Fred could only see her outline. They appeared to be arguing. But, Fred thought, the Asians always sound like that. A moment later, a light came on – the door opened a tiny crack. The driver signalled furiously to Fred.
“How much?” Fred enquired of his self-appointed pimp.
“One hundred Hong Kong Dollar.” The man ushered Fred quickly into a room off the hallway, for fear he’d change his mind.
The place smelt of cheap perfume and cabbage soup. Two towel-covered plinths were the only furniture. A pretty young woman smiled shyly at Fred.
She could work the knots out of him any day. Happy days and all for less than ten quid!
Through a doorway, a rustle heralded the arrival of another woman. She waded into the room – a real-life Chinese dragon, but a lot less hot. With a grunt, she indicated to Fred to get up on the plinth. Panic set in and just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse there was another swish of the multicoloured plastic strips. Enter dragon number two. Only this one was worse. This was a Chinese Weapon of Mass Destruction – and Fred was her target.
“Which one you want?” the taxi man asked, as if courtesy dictated he should give Fred the option of Ugly or Uglier.
Fred turned to look for the pretty girl who had welcomed him but she was already slipping away, out of sight. The bait escaped – the victim caught.
“Pants down!”
The taxi man’s trousers dropped to the floor, revealing spindly legs. His head was still nodding.
Closing his eyes, Fred tightly held on to his belt buckle. He prayed for deliverance.
A lot of shouting later – with Fred refusing to drop his pants which resulted in him paying the masseuses their fee plus a bonus not to have services rendered – he was safely back in the cab. He lit a cigarette and blew the smoke out through the top of the car window. The driver was prattling in Mandarin. Occasionally he’d bang his fist against the steering wheel, and mutter what could only be obscenities, no matter what the language.
But Fred didn’t care. His focus now was on Helen. She’d just sent him a text: she was okay and back at the hotel. She’d agreed to meet him in the Dickens bar for a nightcap.
Time to move things up a notch.
Chapter 16
Helen descended the steep wooden stairs to Dickens, the hotel’s sports bar. She’d thought of going to bed but knew she wouldn’t sleep. She’d been sitting in her room looking out at the harbour view when she’d responded to Fred’s texts. A nightcap might do the trick. She spotted Fred – the bar only had a handful of clients. He wasn’t hard to find. As usual, he sat at the bar as close to a bartender as possible. He had already ordered Helen’s usual rum and Coke.
“Hey, I’m surprised you came back here so early.” Helen tried to sound light-hearted.
“Important contracts to be negotiated tomorrow, I wanted to have a clear head.”
Helen sat on the stool next to him. The split in her black skirt opened slightly, revealing the top of her thigh.
“You look different, somehow,” Fred said.
“No make-up.”
“Suits you – makes you look younger,” he said, and meant it.
“Thanks.”
“So how’s Sarah working out?” It was after midnight, but Fred couldn’t help but talk shop.
“Good, great actually. I think with a bit more experience under her belt, she’ll be an asset to Eden. She reminds me of myself ten years ago.” Helen smiled, relaxing.
“That’s good to know, especially now, with us opening up an office here in Hong Kong.”
“I meant to ask you about that – what’s the timeframe for it being up and running?”
“In the next couple of months. They’ll be looking for expertise from us of course. The new office will coordinate all factories and potential suppliers around South East Asia.”
“Will it affect jobs back in London?”
“Between you and me?”
“Of course,” Helen said, her pulse quickening.
“They’ve already asked me to relocate.”
“Seriously? Hong Kong? What about your family?”
“To be honest, Helen, June and me, we’re more or less living separate lives since the kids left home.” Fred looked into his glass of liquor, as if it could magically fill the place of his thirty-year marriage.
“I’m sorry, Fred, I didn’t realise.” Helen wasn’t sure what else to say.
“It’s not so bad. We get along well, just like old friends. I never noticed it happening, us growing apart. It was the early days at Eden, we were building the company up, I was travelling and working crazy hours – June was at home with the kids. They got older – she had more free time, she started doing things for herself – built her own life. I’m really proud of her, you know.” He looked at Helen.
“Why wouldn’t you be? Even though I’ve only meet her a few times, she seems like a lovely woman.”
“Anyway, Helen, more importantly – how do you feel about it?”
“You moving to Hong Kong? We’ll certainly miss you around the office, Fred.” Helen was surprised at the question.
“No, you silly! I need the right team behind me.” Fred waited for an answer.
Helen laughed. “You’re kidding, right? What about the London office? Who’d run things there?”
“Sarah,” Fred replied.
“Sarah’s not ready.” Damn, why hadn’t she seen that one coming! “I can commute for a few months, to help with the setting-up. Living here permanently isn’t an option right now.”
“At least say you’ll think about it. You’d have your own apartment overlooking the harbour, a driver and monthly
flights back to the UK. Plus . . .” Fred paused, “job security.”
The words hit Helen hard.
“It’s only a matter of time before London is scaled down – am I right?” She knew the answer already.
“Look, as you know, I’m not on the Board but my educated guess is, yes – London jobs will go.”
“I can’t process this information now, Fred, not at this hour.” She rubbed her temples.
“Don’t give me that crap – this is when you wake up!”
She smiled. “Maybe, but it was a funny kind of night – not funny ‘ha-ha’ – funny as in ‘weird’.”
“Then we need another drink.”
Two more drinks arrived and Helen found herself telling Fred about being manhandled earlier.
“Why didn’t you say something – I’d have bloody well punched his lights out!” Fred was livid.
“Oh look, Fred, I’m a grown woman. Why is such a relatively small incident bothering me so much?”
“Think about what could have happened! The guy was obviously barmy, bladdered, or both.” He rubbed his face, his eyes welling up.
“The funny thing is he was well dressed, respectable-looking. You think you protect yourself by not walking down dark laneways or crossing the street to avoid rough characters,” she reflected.
“Drink can change a person – a lot, Helen. Add being away from home, out of the gaze of your peers, community and wife. These guys feel they can get on a plane and all the rules are off. The rules don’t apply outside of their home country.” He averted his gaze.
“It was probably a bit of both. He was well tanked up. God love the young woman he was with earlier in the bar – I hope he doesn’t take his anger out on her.”
“What a tosser! With any luck, the girl’s pimp is Triad – they’ll surely chop his todger off.” He thumped the bar playfully.
“You’re a Kill Bill fan too, I see.” Helen threw her head back in laughter, enjoying the imaginary scene Fred had created. “What about brotherhood? Is that not sacrilege, to wish another man’s willy to be hacked off?”
“Sod brotherhood. Actually, I’d a bit of a nasty experience myself earlier . . .” With that Fred spilt the beans on his detour to the massage parlour.
It didn’t shock Helen, who despite working in the women’s underwear market had got used to the fact the industry was dominated by men. Therefore most of her colleagues were male and most business trips were with men. Although that was changing. In any case, Fred’s version of events certainly gave her abs a good workout, she laughed so much.
“Serves you right, you dirty old man,” she said, wiping the corner of her eye.
“I’d swear it was a family business, Helen – with every generation in on the act.”
“Don’t start – you’ll set me off again. And what had the taxi driver being Buddhist got to do with anything?”
“Search me. One thing’s for sure, though – the two ladies gave Buddha himself a run for his money. Blimey, larger lassies I’ve rarely seen!”
“Stop!” Helen playfully punched him before lowering her voice. “Anyway, Fred, I’m left with a far more serious trauma.”
Fred looked at her, puzzled at her tone.
“I refer to the Fat Ass issue – Fred, do you think my bum is big?”
“Office rules, Helen, I’ve never looked at your posterior – I couldn’t possibly comment – that could be construed as sexual harassment, you know.”
“Ah, get off your high-horse and stop talking crap!” Helen got off her stool, turned her back to Fred and stuck her butt out. “You have my permission to check out my butt – is it too big?”
“Ms Devine, I can confirm that you indeed do . . . not have a fat ass.” It looks especially good in the jeans you wear to the office on Fridays.
“Good, in that case I’m starving – do you fancy a MacDonald’s?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Fred stood, steadied himself and gallantly held his arm out to Helen.
The barman whisked up their glasses before they changed their mind. Drunk and Drunker headed back up the wooden stairs in search of the Holy Grail: a Big Mac.
Fred went to walk out the main doors of the hotel towards the taxis but Helen headed to the side door.
“Don’t be such a lazy old fart! It’s a five-minute walk from here!” She wouldn’t usually speak to her boss like that but, as Fred said, the rules stay at home, office etiquette being one of them.
The narrow streets were wet from an earlier rain-shower. Plastic bags of rubbish were piled high against shop windows, waiting for early-morning collection. Light streamed from a Seven-Eleven convenience store. An employee brushed suds out to the path, washing away the grime of the day now his shift was over. It wasn’t long before Fred and Helen found the golden arches, thankfully still beaming.
“Which do you prefer, skinny chips or fat chips?” Helen asked Fred, as she fished for the last chip, which was trying to escape through the crack at the bottom of the carton.
“All chips. Can’t you tell?” Fred rubbed his belly for added effect. Having got their food they had decided to walk to the harbour and eat it with a view. “Look at this!” He waved his arm. “A slap-up meal, a killer view, and all for a few dollars – not bad, am I right?”
“Absolutely, I mean who’d want to be in one of those top-floor restaurants, paying three hundred bucks on a meal for two anyway?”
“My sentiment exactly,” Fred said, missing Helen’s sarcasm. “A beer would be good though.”
“Or a nice chilled bottle of white.”
The two looked wistful.
“Well, since we’ve saved the company so much money on food, why don’t we crack open the minibar?” Fred asked. With any luck, I’ll be cracking open more than that.
“Best idea you’ve had all night, boss. Better make it your room though. Accounts will have my not-fat ass if I charge expensive mini-bottles of booze to Eden,” Helen hiccupped.
“One of the benefits of being the boss, my dear – I won’t let anyone have your ass. Unless I authorise it, of course. Ass-whipping is my prerogative. Come on, let’s go, it’s starting to rain.”
Had Helen imagined it? Was Fred being sexual or was he reaffirming his position in the food-chain of Eden management? She wondered if she should call it a night. What the hell, one little nightcap can’t hurt, she convinced herself, pushing her better judgement aside.
Chapter 17
“Wow, Fred, it’s an impressive size!” Helen said. “I’ve seen a lot in my time, but never one quite this big.”
Fred stretched back on the couch, feeling smug. “Nice, hey?”
“Here was me thinking I’d scored a massive room and here you were hiding this all along.”
“Got talking to Ms Lynn in Guest Relations. I may have mentioned that I could direct a lot more clients their way – and what do you know – bingo, they upgraded me to a suite – free of charge. Champagne?”
“Thanks.”
Fred pattered over to the minibar to retrieve the bottle and flutes. He carried them back to where he’d been sitting, in the bay of the window with his back to Hong Kong Harbour.
“Come – sit.” He tapped the large comfortable couch before untwisting the champagne wire.
Helen decided to sit in an armchair opposite him, a coffee table between them. “The view is better from here. Ha, it looks like you’ve skyscrapers sprouting from the top of your head.” She held up her phone to take a picture.
“At least there’s something growing there.” Fred rubbed the top of his head, disappointed Helen hadn’t joined him on the couch. The cork popped with a high-pressure spray that hit Helen. They both laughed and Fred used the distraction to discreetly press a remote control, dimming the lights ever so slightly in the room. He selected a playlist he’d compiled before leaving the UK on his iPod – he’d labelled it ‘seduction’. Ambient music filled the room.
“How’s your love-life, Helen, or am I allowed ask s
uch a question?” Fred leaned across the coffee table to hand Helen her drink.
“Complicated.” Was she imagining it or had it got darker in the room? She looked at Fred – he looked younger, and more relaxed, sitting framed by the glittering lights of the city. “I’ve been kind of seeing my ex but I don’t think it’s going anywhere.”
“Is this the guy you left Dublin to avoid?” Careful how you play this one, Fred.
“That’s him – Rob Lawless, the solicitor.”
Then as the drink flowed, Helen poured her heart out to Fred about her doubts of Rob’s genuineness. Finally, she stopped – it had felt good to talk about it. Let the secret out. No one at home knew she was seeing Rob again. Even she wasn’t sure if she was.
As conversation stopped, the background music picked up tempo, as Prince belted out “Sexy Motherfucker”.
Shit – it’s too soon for the shag compilation. Fred was annoyed he hadn’t thought to loop the earlier playlist. Until he was ready.
He broke the silence between them. “With a name like that, I hope Mr Lawless is not in criminal law.”
They both creased up with laughter. When they’d calmed, Fred said, “He sounds like a dumb-nut to me. Crikey, Helen, what were you thinking? You can do so much better than that. Just look at you – attractive, successful, intelligent – any man would give his right arm to be with you – love you.”
Time to enter Phase Two: close the deal.
“You know what, I am too good for that crap!” Helen thumped the arm of the chair before standing to walk over to the window. She paced for a moment before stopping to look out at the view. “Life is too short for wasters, Fred.”
“Let’s toast to that!” Fred held up the champagne bottle.
She joined him on the couch, handing him her glass. She sat on the edge, her back poker-straight, her eyes darting as she looked up towards the ceiling as though seeking divine inspiration.
“How about a toast to new beginnings?” she said.
The Lingerie Designer Page 9