“Do I look single to you, miss?” Ava whined. “Do I?”
“Uhm ... no?” the staff member asked hesitantly, throwing a panicked look at her companion. “I’m very sorry, madam.”
“Madam? I’m only twenty-six!” She sobbed, catching herself when she realized that people were staring. Everything seemed to pull into focus, and she looked down at herself. She was unraveling in the worst way possible, and she was saving that for when she got to Bali.
“God, I am so sorry,” she said to herself, allowing herself one more sniffle. Ava shook her head, walked past the transfers desk and off to her boarding gate for Bali. She needed to wallow, talk to someone, and maybe find herself a new plan. She couldn’t keep living the way she used to. She felt like one of those race horses on Off-Track Betting that just started to see the world without blinders. But instead of running out of the track, she just felt shocked, jilted, and exhausted.
RIIIIIIINNNNGGG! RIIIIIIINNNNGGG!
Wiping her tears off her face, Ava allowed herself to take a few deep breaths. She looked around the gate and vaguely wondered who let their phone ring so loud.
Around her, passengers sat in their own little worlds, using their gadgets, talking to their companions. There were even some settling in with a good book. She noticed that she was probably the only Filipino going to Bali, which was … different. There were always Filipinos flying to and fro, to every corner of the world … except Bali apparently.
RIIIIIIINNNNGGG! RIIIIIIINNNNGGG!
She always liked traveling through Hong Kong International Airport. It was clean, big, and very efficient. She and Matteo were here last year when she had to assist Atty. Angeles in a meeting with a client, and Matteo was making his weekly trip for the bank. He made a big deal out of taking her to the second floor food court to have a warm bowl of congee from his favorite airport restaurant. She was the only girl he’d ever shared his hearty, savory porridge and warm, crispy crullers to. It was like they were in some sort of world in-between, not quite back to reality and not quite removed from the happy haze that traveling always gave them. They could just sit and be Matteo and Ava.
Oh great. She made herself cry again.
Ten minutes before Ava’s bumpy, tear-filled flight from Manila landed in Hong Kong, a nondescript black car pulled up into the departures hall of Hong Kong International Airport. Charlie Mei emerged from the back seat, his eyes quickly darting around the massive airport like he was scouting for assassins.
“Oi,” a voice barked from the other door of the passenger seat. “Quit standing and grab your bloody trunk.”
Charlie lifted his sunglasses from his eyes and glanced at his friend. Scott McLeod’s eyebrows were upset with him. Charlie didn’t know if it was just his Scottish heritage, but Scott could only really relax when he had a beer in hand (or two, Scott wasn’t picky). Standing in the middle of the departures hall of the airport was definitely not a comfort zone for him.
“Aye aye, boss,” Charlie joked, grinning as he jogged lightly to the back of the car, easily pulling out his and Scott’s luggage from the trunk and setting them down on the sidewalk. Scott’s deadly eyebrows relaxed, and his thin lips (partially hidden by a light brown fuzz of beard growing all over his face) curled into a lopsided grin. He tucked his hands into his slim cut jeans, his combat boots scuffling along with him.
“Ready?” he asked Charlie, his Scottish accent making his ‘r’s roll off his tongue smoothly. Girls, in Hong Kong especially, were in love with the soft burrs of his Scottish accent, and Scott could never quite get rid of it, despite living away from Scotland for about ten years now.
Christ, has it already been that long? Scott wondered, shaking his head. He felt old, weariness creeping into his long, long limbs.
Charlie bounded over to his best friend and placed an arm around his shoulders. They were heading off to Bali for Gabbie’s second-thirtieth birthday (which made her 31, but try telling Gabbie that). She loved celebrating her birthdays in a big way, and Charlie insisted that Scott come along.
Grumpy as Scott was, he could never say no to Charlie (or Gabbie, to be honest), so he agreed to be his best mate’s travel buddy to Bali. They settled themselves into the first bar they could find in the departure area, a place that served their beers ‘colder than your ex-girlfriend’s heart.’
“I have to admire what you’re doing here, mate,” Scott said as he sipped his second beer in such a blasé manner that it would have impressed Charlie if he hadn’t seen him do it several times before. “Takes a lot of balls to be with Gabbie. I should know.”
“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” Charlie confessed, knocking back his Coke. “My fiancee is sweet and thoughtful and totally easy to be with. You were just afraid of commitment.”
“Not that our breakup really changed things. She still loves meddling in my life,” Scott pointed out, not as a complaint, but as a statement of fact. “And it wasn’t that I was afraid of commitment. She didn’t know what to do with herself when faced with an irresistible force of nature like me—”
Charlie guffawed and threw peanuts at his friend.
“But then Gabbie’s quite a force of nature herself,” Scott added. “I’m happy for you both. And you will remember that when you come crawling back to our flat because she wants to chop off your balls with a meat cleaver. While I will continue being Hong Kong’s persona non grata for being twenty-eight and still single.”
Charlie chuckled, sipping his Coke. He drummed his fingers on the bar counter. Truth be told, he actually felt for Scott. It was almost unacceptable to Hong Kong society that they were just twenty-something men with careers and without wives or girlfriends. His future wedding to Gabbie was something of a relief for his entire family.
Scott, meanwhile, was quite happy being grumpy and single. He could smoke as much as he liked (not that he did that anymore), drink as often as he wanted, and do what he wanted without someone asking for his attention. He just couldn’t be that kind of guy, and no girl deserved less than that.
Charlie’s expression turned slightly somber, turning the soda in his glass like it actually held fine Scotch. “What did they say, about ... you know?”
Scott sighed and ran a hand through his brown hair, mussing it up. He suddenly looked tired, like he didn’t want to discuss it with Charlie. “I’ve been delaying it. My phone’s been ringing off the hook since we got here, but I just don’t want to know yet, that’s all.”
Charlie clapped a hand on Scott’s back, careful not to let it linger for too long, but just long enough to make it a sign of his support. Scott and Charlie were masters of speaking to each other without words. Gabbie had complained about this on more than one occasion.
“I’m going to look for earphones,” Charlie suddenly announced. He wasn’t going to survive a four-hour flight without earphones. “Meet you at the gate?”
RRRIIIIINNNGGG!!!
The two jumped in shock at Scott’s phone as it begged for attention. The owner simply groaned and shoved the offending gadget into the deep corners of his ratty duffel bag, the sound muffled once he’d zipped it closed. Charlie raised an eyebrow at him.
“Oh go on, I’ll meet you there,” Scott urged Charlie, gesturing him to leave as Scott paid the bill with the money Charlie left on the table. He managed to scrounge up enough coins in his pocket to get himself a chocolate bar from the vending machine near the gate. He’d been feeling a little sluggish, and it had nothing to do with the two beers he’d just had.
RIIIIIIINNNNGGG! RIIIIIIINNNNGGG!
“Bloody hell,” Scott grumbled, flopping down into a seat at the boarding gate.
“Uuuugh, just stop already,” Ava groaned beside him, trying to steel herself to swallow back the tears. Matteo didn’t deserve them anymore. Stop crying, stop it, stop it now!
“Christ, sorry then,” Scott suddenly said, making her head snap up and turn to him. He was fumbling with his backpack, trying to figure out how to put his bloo
dy mobile on silent mode. Ava still looked a bit confused as he tossed his bag on the chair like he was about to wrestle it, standing so tall that she was afraid he would bump his head on the high ceiling of the airport.
“Sorry,” he repeated, pulling his backpack closer to his shoulder. “See, rubbish thing, this mobile, I was just trying to turn if off, I didn’t—”
“Huh?” Ava asked weakly, clearly having no idea what he was talking about.
“And you weren’t talking to me. Obviously,” Scott said awkwardly, going back to minding his own business. Ava frowned. She was used to hearing all kinds of accents from foreign clients, but the guy was talking so fast she hadn’t understood a word he said.
“This is why you’re going to end up alone,” she told herself, making Scott think she was talking about him.
“Now why would you say that,” he asked, turning casually to her like they were the oldest friends. She was used to this kind of behavior in the U.S. or maybe Canada, but not Hong Kong. In Hong Kong, people minded their own business and never bothered anyone else, unless it was favorable for them to bother you. She still had no idea what accent he had.
Ava’s arms were crossed over her stomach, and she leaned forward to get a good look at the guy over her cardigan. He looked like a hipster, with his light fuzz of beard and cool black boots. His broad shoulders were barely holding in his t-shirt. It was a plain shirt with the first names of the guys from the Backstreet Boys in white Helvetica. Did he think it was funny, or did he find it legitimately cool? But there was something relaxed about him, like he had zero plans of being anywhere anytime soon. He was definitely ruggedly handsome, but definitely not her type.
Not that she was thinking about that.
“I’ve been told that I’m a heartless bitch, and I’m officially too stupid to get into a good law school,” the words blurted out of her so quickly that Ava covered her face with her hands in shame. “Sorry,” she said, still covering her face. “I’m not usually like this.”
“I’ve heard that one before,” Scott said, tucking his extremely long legs underneath him as he sat Indian style facing her. “Making an escape to Bali, eh?”
“Maybe,” she said, edging her side of the bench. She looked away again. Ava had no desire to pour her heart out to a total stranger. She was down, but she wasn’t that desperate yet.
Scott noticed her discomfort and laughed, shaking his head. With only a few words, he knew exactly who this girl was. He’d met enough of them in his life to know.
“Ahh. A straight-laced, straightedge lass,” he told her. “You never drink, never smoke, curse, or have casual sex.” He looked her up and down like he was reading something perplexing. “Probably a virgin. Broke up with your boyfriend and now you’re trying to ‘find yourself,’ yeah? Soul-searching? That’s nice.”
Ava raised her eyebrow, turned her head slowly, and gave him a glare that could have made an exploding volcano stop in its tracks. Scott flinched at the anger flaring in her eyes. Was it something he had said? Sure, he might have added a joke in the end about how she could search him, (not one of his finest moments, he had to admit) but she knew he was just kidding. Right?
“If I am, then it’s none of your business,” she snapped. She didn’t need anyone’s pity, and she certainly didn’t need anyone telling her that she was so boring that it had a name.
Thankfully they announced that the plane was boarding, and Ava couldn’t have left the bench fast enough. Scott McLeod, in his favorite iconic shirt, watched Ava and her cardigan as they walked away, unable to hide the small smile on his face.
Flight CX792 landed at the Nugrah Rai Airport at six in the evening to a smattering of rain. Scott looked out at the grey Bali skies, which made the red thatched roofs on the edge of the island seem even brighter. Strange that it was raining in the beginning of summer.
“I’m tired,” Charlie yawned as they pushed their baggage saway from the carousels and the airport exits. The airport exit reminded Scott of a theme park ride—every design feature was larger than life, from the red brick walls to the massive, detailed stone carvings around the roof edges. Within the airport grounds was a garden, its plants swaying along with the winds that whipped them about. “I’ll find our driver. Then we will devour an obscene quantity of food for me and alcohol for you.”
“That, aaah, that is a great idea,” Scott said while yawning.
Charlie went off to find the driver that would take them to the hotel, leaving Scott to look around and people watch as he rested his long arms on the baggage trolley.
“Excuse me,” a timid voice filled his ears as someone with a small trolley bag pushed past of him. It was the crying woman from the airport, Miss Boring herself. He could recognize her cardigan anywhere. Scott studied her lost, frustrated expression. There was something cute about the way her nose crinkled, like she was annoyed with herself. Her thick, glossy, black hair swished around in a ponytail as she made a beeline toward a man in Balinese costume, holding up a sign that had the name of Scott and Charlie’s hotel.
She’s actually quite pretty, Scott thought, following his crying lady. There was something about the way she carried herself like a woman determined, even if there was a slump to her shoulders. He paused and tried to pretend that he didn’t actually just think that.
“Hi,” he heard her say as he came within earshot. “I think I made a reservation in your hotel, but I … I mean, I never do this. Usually I know where I’m booked, but … I lost the form I printed.”
The driver (his nameplate read “Ekha”) seemed confused at her statement. Ekha stammered a few sentences in English, but not one seemed to make sense to Scott or the woman. She tried again in her own version of broken English, but they were lost in translation. Scott decided that it was time to take matters into his own hands.
“There you are, darlin’,” he exclaimed, jogging up to her and placing an arm around her shoulders like they’d done it a million times before. “Sorry, I really had to take a pee.”
Ava was so small that the top of her head only came up to his shoulders. Scott had to bend a little just so he could squeeze her upper arm affectionately. There was a strange, sweet smell from her that wafted toward him, he had to scratch the tip of his nose to stop himself from sniffing. Her cardigan had fallen over her shoulder, and the skin he’d grasped was soft, warm, and smooth. Electricity prickled his skin at the contact, and he wondered if it was just static in the air.
She looked up and glared at Scott, her gaze of a thousand burning daggers not affecting him in the least. He gave his companion a big, toothy grin and turned to the driver, who looked at him incredulously.
“Hallo,” he said. The key to lying was always attitude, and Scott had that in spades. “My name should be there … Scott McLeod? I brought a guest with me.”
The driver looked at the pad in his hand and squinted, nodding in approval. “Ah yes, welcome Mister Lee-Ood. We are just waiting for Mister Charlie.”
Scott heard the woman in his arms giggle at his butchered last name. Ah well. He’d been living in Hong Kong for the last two years, this wasn’t the worst way anyone’s said his last name.
“Can I . . . your guest name, Missy . . . ?” Ekha asked, looking expectantly between Scott and his guest. He was about to go into a whole bit where he would make a joke about his mystery girl and her name when she supplied the driver (and Scott) her name.
“Ava Bonifacio,” she said plainly, wriggling free from Scott’s arm to look over the driver’s clipboard to make sure he spelled her name right. “Yes, B-O-N-I-F-A-C-I-O.”
He felt his arm tingle at the loss of contact, and he felt himself visibly relax when Ava placed it around her shoulders again. Not good.
“Okay Miss Ava,” Ekha said, pronouncing her name as ‘ah-bah.’ “Good good. We can go to the car and I will look for Mister Charlie, ok?”
“Okay,” Scott said, his arm still dangling over Ava’s shoulder. “Shall we go, love?”
Ava
looked at him, her mouth jutting forward in a frown. She had never expected to see Backstr—Scott, his name is Scott—again, and certainly not like this. But why should that bother her? She already knew what he thought of her. While she didn’t like it, Scott was her ticket to a hotel. It was the only place so far willing to let her in the van, since she hadn’t exchanged her money yet, (no way was she going to get scammed with airport exchange rates). So if he wanted to play fake boyfriend, she was going to play fake girlfriend.
Ava gave Scott a sweet smile and expertly swung her trolley bag onto his cart after refusing his and the driver’s help. She pulled on the hand dangling over her shoulder, slipping her other arm around his waist as he pushed the cart with his free hand. They walked right in sync with each other, like they’d been doing it all their life.
The driver smiled at them as he led them through a flowered arch. “Perfect! Bali is the beautiful place for lovers!”
“You hear that, sugar?” Scott teased, looking down at her. “For lovers.”
Scott was sure that he saw Ava roll her eyes and mumble something possibly rude in Filipino as they walked to the parking lot. He smiled in satisfaction, knowing he was getting under her skin. Why that made him grin was beyond him. He started to hum a tune. Ava looked up at him, her nose crinkled in dissatisfaction, and he started to sing louder.
She opened her mouth to protest. Then he didn’t stop singing the bloody song.
CHAPTER THREE
Midnights in Bali
“WELCOME TO BALI!” Ekha chirped, opening the van doors with a flourish.
“Thank God,” Charlie said. “I love you Scott, but if you sing that song one more time, I’m going to kill you.”
“Not if I killed him first,” Ava muttered under her breath, making Scott laugh.
They had arrived at Sudamala Park, one of the more quiet locations in Sanur. Sanur was the middle-ground area in the island of Bali. It wasn’t as fancy and expensive as Seminyak, but not as touristy as Kuta. Cheap and beautiful, Ekha had promised, and he was right.
Midnights in Bali Page 2