by J C Ryan
Rex was beginning to wish he’d driven to Thailand instead of flying by the time he finally found someone, an American expat, who welcomed Digger and commiserated about the transportation system. It was then that Rex began thinking about buying a tuk-tuk. He went about it with his usual thoroughness, eventually settling for a used one because it was the easiest way to cut through the red tape. He licensed it for personal use only, which meant he’d probably be stopped and questioned if he ever had a passenger. But that was a minor inconvenience, and he didn’t anticipate it coming up at all.
In the latter assumption, he didn’t count on what happened after he enrolled in a language school for a crash course in the Thai language. He’d learned in his research on Thailand that the Mandarin form of Chinese bore certain similarities to Thai, and in fact they shared a common origin. Having already mastered a tonal language would give him a good head start, but he wanted to learn the subtleties of the different tones and the vocabulary as quickly as possible. The influence of Old Khmer on the proto language had added vocabulary completely unfamiliar to Rex.
Three weeks of immersion in a language school environment would no doubt be faster than three weeks of misunderstandings and acquiring vocabulary by pointing and asking a passerby to name the object. It was one thing to have the knack of picking up a language without accent by immersion, and a very handy thing at that. But tonal languages were a different matter, especially related ones. He didn’t want to make the mistake of missing a tonal subtlety and saying something offensive by accident.
On the morning he went to enroll and pay for the course, his eye was caught by a distractingly beautiful woman. He was so distracted, in fact, that the bursar had to call him back to attention twice before he heard. His head had snapped all the way to the left as he caught her movement, and then swiftly snapped right as she passed behind him, his eyes following her graceful progress down the hallway until she disappeared through a side door at the end.
Wow. I knew Thailand had some beautiful women, but that one… Just, wow!
He’d arrived only a couple of days past the opening day of the course he wanted to take, and with a little palm-greasing, he successfully negotiated starting late, assuring the bursar and the academic head of the school that he wouldn’t slow the rest of the class down. The next morning, he presented himself at the assigned classroom and was startled and delighted to see that same stunning woman of the previous day was his teacher.
What a stroke of luck!
Despite the distraction caused by his teacher’s beauty, Rex immediately applied himself to catching up with the rest of the class. So, the first thing he learned was his teacher’s name—Sunstra Chevapravatgumrong.
The question is, is that Miss Chevapravatgumrong, or Missus? If it is Miss, then the next question is if she has any… hang on, slow down, not so fast. One step at a time, Rex Dalton.
The class met daily over three weeks, for four hours a day. It didn’t take him long to learn that his beautiful teacher was single, and that she spoke English quite well as far as he could find out. However, the question if she had a love interest he couldn’t get answered without asking directly, and that would’ve been rude. He wished he could ask Digger to read her mind, because he was sure Digger read his mind—the only problem was the dog didn’t comment about what he read. Encouraging though her English language skills and relationship status were, Rex decided that they’d speak Thai as much as possible when they went out. There was just one slight problem with that plan, and that he learned on the first day—the school discouraged fraternization. It was disappointing, but not insurmountable. He’d find a way. He’d already negotiated having Digger in class with him, playing the service dog card. Digger also served as an excellent wing-man, as Rex had learned before. The fact that his fellow students loved Digger was not nearly as satisfying as Sunstra’s flapping about him. Of course, it went without saying, Digger was on cloud nine with all the attention.
Rex’s fellow students were Asian, European, and American. Some were older, planning to retire here for the low cost of living. Others were young, of an age group known as Millennials, those born between 1981 and 1996. Although he was technically a Millennial, he was one of the oldest of the cohort, and related more to the previous designation, Generation X, those born between 1965 and 1980. Maybe it was because he was the oldest child of his parents and more had been expected of him. He hadn’t been handed everything on a silver platter. He’d been expected to work for his achievements, and he had.
Many of those younger students were traveling the world, subsisting or making their fortunes as digital nomads, another slang phrase that had cropped up on Rex’s radar lately. He was intrigued by the concept. Wealth had never been his motivation, but he appreciated having it now. However, these students seemed happy, making a living off internet businesses from their laptops thus freeing themselves from the burdens that a nine to five job, working for a boss, daily commute, and the need for a permanent residence placed on people. In a way, he was doing the same—the only difference was his source of income. And very much like the Millennials, who didn’t worry too much about the future, he also didn’t worry about how he’d support himself once he became too old to run around and take money off bad guys. For now he was still young enough, and it wasn’t as if the world would run out of bad guys soon.
***
BEFORE HE FOUND a way to sidestep the school policy, and before he’d found his used tuk-tuk, Rex decided to try out some of the wildly popular pleasures on offer in Thailand, activities he’d never had the opportunity to enjoy elsewhere. In Europe, he’d been too busy, and in Afghanistan, they just didn’t exist. In India there was just not enough time for it as he had to make all the arrangements to set up his new life and then found himself in a rescue operation requiring him to go to Saudi Arabia. Shortly after that he had the close encounter with CRC agents, which forced him to leave the country in a hurry. But in Thailand, he had none of those pressures, and he couldn’t go anywhere without seeing ads for inexpensive massages and glittering bars in the evenings.
Rex had never had a massage other than from a physiotherapist for injuries, but never the relaxing, non-medical kind on offer here. He’d always associated the idea of it with something vaguely illicit, but on listening to the accounts some of his fellow students gave about it, it didn’t sound illegal at all and definitely like one of the must-do things when visiting Thailand. He decided nothing ventured nothing gained, and if it was as good as they said, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get some of the kinks out of his muscles and joints that he’d developed over the years. He asked a few questions, got the name of a reputable place, and treated himself to one that very afternoon.
For the next half hour, as the masseuse worked on tense muscles in his back and shoulders, he relaxed more deeply than he had since he was a kid, he thought. When she got to his feet, he was sure he’d entered nirvana.
On the floor, Digger, who’d been welcomed into the spa, watched the proceedings with interest. Rex caught sight of him watching the masseuse, then checking Rex’s demeanor, as if trying to understand this strange, new activity that his alpha seemed to be enjoying. It must have been puzzling to him, because the dog had never seen anyone put their hands on Rex like that without an ensuing fight.
When the masseuse indicated the massage was finished, she used simple words and gestures to indicate she’d be happy to work on the dog as well. Rex was intrigued.
What a great idea! My buddy has had as much stress as me, especially cooped up in that cage on the flight. He certainly deserves a bit of relaxation, too.
He nodded and commanded Digger to jump up on the table, which the dog did with ease. “Lie down,” he said, and Digger complied.
When the masseuse started smoothing the shaggy, black fur, rubbing Digger’s ears, and murmuring to him, Digger’s mouth relaxed into a happy smile, and Rex thought it was going to be perfect—as nice for Digger as it had been for him. Digger even r
olled on his back to let her scratch his belly.
However, soon she began to apply firmer pressure, and she must have hit a bunched nerve locus, because Digger instantly tensed, rolled, and got his feet under him as if to spring off the table. He yelped, looking at the masseuse with distrust. When she reached for him again, he snarled and snapped at her hand without making contact and gave a sharp bark.
She and Rex both interpreted it as a firm, “No!”
The masseuse backed away, even as Rex reprimanded Digger, and refused to step forward again. In rapid Thai and hand gestures, she made it clear that she was done massaging the dog.
Digger dropped off the table without being told, gave Rex a reproachful look, and nudged the masseuse’s hand. He pushed his head up so her limp hand would slide down like she was petting him. Rex assumed that was Digger’s way of saying, “Sorry, didn’t mean to be rude. Petting is okay. Massage isn’t.”
He apologized to the young woman, who now had a thoroughly confused expression on her face. His Thai was not adequate to explain what his interpretation of that last interaction meant.
Contrary to Digger, Rex enjoyed the experience so much that he immediately booked three more sessions, one for every second day from that one. The first cost only ten dollars, which he thought was very cheap, but the establishment was so happy with him booking more sessions in advance, they gave him a discount of three dollars for each of the next sessions. They even told him that if he could convince Digger of the health benefits, and to not be such an ass about it, they’d give him a ten-minute massage on the house.
Rex told them he’d have a quiet word with Digger about it but that he was not very hopeful he’d change the dog’s attitude—he had a mind of his own.
***
SINCE SCHOOL TOOK up most mornings, in the afternoons he visited a few places where they taught Muay Thai and observed before deciding on a school where he would take a few individual classes.
He’d settled into this routine in only a few days, so his days were full, but in the bustling city, it seemed his nights were empty even though he’d never indulged in night life outside his missions. Rex wasn’t much of a drinker. He enjoyed a cocktail and especially a cold beer on a sweltering day, but going somewhere loud and crowded just to get a drink wasn’t his style. Neither was going somewhere for the express purpose of meeting women. He’d already spotted the woman he thought he’d like to know better, anyway.
Nevertheless, on the Thursday after he enrolled in language school, he decided to go out and see what entertainment the city had to offer.
To his delight, Rex found a bar that allowed Digger to go in with him, where expats from all over the world congregated, and he fell into conversation with three French tourists. With the opportunity to converse in French that he hadn’t enjoyed in a while, he chatted with them for several hours.
Part of Rex’s uncanny facility with languages was the ability to speak any language he learned with no accent—or rather, with no accent that betrayed it wasn’t his native language. Within most languages, there were regional accents, and Rex always picked up that of his learning environment. Whether he learned from a teacher, as he was doing with Thai, or from immersion in the language in a particular region of the country, he spoke with the authenticity of a native.
His new friends wanted to know what city in the south of France he’d come from. This was an unexpected wrinkle, but he hesitated only a moment before telling them he’d learned French from his father but had been raised in Italy. Surprised, they congratulated him on his fluency and accent, and then dropped the subject.
They had some spicy Thai food washed down with a few rounds of beer, and before he knew it, the time had grown quite late. Rex excused himself, saying he had school in the morning, which resulted in some merriment among the tourists. Nevertheless, he extricated himself from the situation with a smile, and left with Digger on his leash next to him.
The bar was less than a kilometer from his apartment. Rex hadn’t had enough beer to impair him much, so he wasn’t at first worried when he spotted three men coming toward him from the other end of the alley leading to his apartment. Although his Thai language skills consisted of only a few words, when the trio got closer, their body language didn’t need any translation—they were spoiling for a fight, probably because they paid Digger no attention and saw Rex as an easy target for mugging. The reward would be some fool farang’s bountiful wallet.
They were about eight to ten meters away when they spread out and filled the way. Rex and Digger would be forced to move up against the wall to let them pass. But he doubted that was how it was going to play out—they had their eyes fixed on him, and smug grins were playing on their faces.
Rex knew trouble when he saw it.
By the time they’d reached him, Rex and Digger had moved with their backs to the wall, and he’d decided it was best to try to defuse the situation, give up his cash without protest, and hopefully get by without a fight. It was a sketchy plan, because as he knew, muggers everywhere were bullies, and like bullies, these were probably the same as bullies everywhere. It wasn’t just the money they wanted, it was likely the fight, a chance to injure someone and then brag about it to their friends afterward.
At first, true to his nature, he was tempted to teach them a few manners. He’d quickly assessed them and found them wanting, so he could kick their butts without breaking a sweat. But he soon calmed himself. He hadn’t been here long. Who would the police believe? A tourist, or three locals who could claim he beat them up for no reason? And if Digger were to get in on the action, which Rex had no doubt he would, things might not work out well for the two of them. The difference in numbers alone would make cops in America believe the lone guy, even if they wondered how one guy could subdue three. But remembering the articles he’d read about corruption made him hesitate—it probably extended to the police as well.
One of them snarled at him in Thai. With his limited Thai, he tried to explain he didn’t understand, while pulling out his wallet and opening it to show them he was getting out all the money he had. After his evening out, he only had about $20 in baht, which he removed and held out to them as a peace offering.
Unfortunately, Digger didn’t like the idea of keeping the peace, The Land of Smiles or not, to him this undoubtedly looked like a threat to his alpha. The dog growled menacingly, his hackles up. One of the muggers said something, which Rex thought could only be a swearword. The thug aimed a kick at him, but missed when Digger anticipated it and deftly moved out of the way, then attacked his attacker. Rex realized quickly that all hell was about to break loose—defusing it was no longer an option.
The other two went for Rex, yelling in Thai, maybe more swearwords. He didn’t need to know what they were saying to realize his plan was a bust and plan B was in play—neutralize the attackers as quickly as possible.
Rex stepped to the side and clotheslined the first one to reach him with a stiff left forearm. The other one was half a step behind and met Rex’s vicious right hook, full in his face. Digger had taken the wind out of his man’s sails with a bite to his leg, tearing his pants leg and a good bit of calf muscle with it. That guy somehow managed to shake Digger loose and was now limping down the alley in the opposite direction as fast as he could go.
Digger jumped on Rex’s first attacker before he could regain his feet and stood with his forelegs on the man’s chest and his muzzle practically in his face, growling. The man had both arms crossed in front of his face and was pleading for help when his buddy landed next to him, out cold and bleeding profusely from his nose, which wasn’t sitting in quite the same position on his face as it had a moment before.
Rex called Digger off and let his guy get up, but he hadn’t learned his lesson yet. He came at Rex again, this time ending up in a headlock, with Digger’s teeth firmly planted in his ass. He could thank his lucky stars he didn’t have his front turned to Digger. He screamed for mercy, and Rex called Digger off again but di
dn’t let the pressure off the man’s throat.
Calmly, Rex asked, in rudimentary Thai, “Do you understand English?”
The man grunted and nodded as well as he could, since the pressure on his throat prevented him from speaking.
Rex continued in English. “When I let you go, put your hands on your head and stand still. You do anything else, the dog will rip your ass apart and then your throat. Do you understand?”
Again, a grunt sound and an abbreviated nod assured Rex that the man understood. He let go, and the mugger’s hands flew to the top of his head and stayed there. His eyes were so wide Rex could see white all around his pupils.
“Now, I want you to stay here. Your ass needs medical attention, and so does your buddy’s nose. Your other buddy, the wise one who ran away, probably has a part of his leg missing. So, listen carefully to me, because I’m only going to say this once.”
The man nodded.
“Keep your hands on your head, close your eyes, turn around, and slowly count to two hundred, out loud so I can hear you. You can count. Right?”
The man nodded and started counting even before his hands were on his head.
“Good boy. My dog and I are going to leave now. You stay like that until you reach the count of two hundred, then go find medical help. But remember this, if I ever hear of you molesting another tourist or anyone else for that matter, I’ll find you, and you’ll find out how lucky you really were tonight. Do you understand that?”
This time the nod was vigorous.
Rex continued down the alley and heard the man still counting when he turned the corner to get to the entry of his apartment block. When they got inside, he told Digger he deserved a treat and stuffed Digger’s favorite toy, a Kong, with some leftover roast duck from a dinner he’d had the night before. The Kong, a hard-rubber toy shaped a little like a snowman, with a hole piercing it from the bottom, sent Digger into a near frenzy of delight as he chased it, batted at it with his paw and ‘killed’ it, then pegged it to the floor with his front paws and started digging out the treat inside with his tongue.