The Deserter

Na sat at her dressing table gazing at her reflection. She was acutely aware of her slightly sagging jaw line and the crows’ feet around her eyes. She wore her hair shorter these days. Her tits pointed stubbornly south and the scar on her stomach, although nearly thirty years old now, was still quite prominent. She often thought that that bastard surgeon might as well have cut her open with a broken milk bottle and sewn her back up with baler twine for all the mess he made. She took another drag of her cigarette and blew the smoke at the mirror. Through the thin blue haze she could still get a glimpse of the beautiful woman she had once been. Hell, with some creatively applied make-up and the right dress, she could still convince some farangs that she was forty two, if the lights weren’t too bright. It helped if the farang in question had already had a good drink too, mind you. Her legs were in pretty good shape for a woman of any age though. Na was proud of her legs.

Joost van der Oosterkamp was sound asleep on the bed in the corner. Joost had Anglicized his name some forty years ago and since then had been known as plain John West. Thailand was never very good with those ethnic European names. John’s future was well and truly behind him now. He was only good for the knackers yard these days. He looked a good ten years older than his sixty eight years and when he slept he didn’t snore so much as rattle. He drank Mekong whiskey for breakfast and chain smoked all day. He had been a hard man in his younger days but a lifetime at sea combined with years of heavy drinking had taken its toll. He was a rake of a man now. His eyes were misty and sunken and he hardly ate enough to keep a bird alive. Na knew he wouldn’t be around for much longer. She had seen men drink themselves to death before. He wasn’t much of a catch really but he was Na’s only meal ticket for the time being.

As she herself had aged, the quality of sponsor she had been able to attract had steadily and noticeably deteriorated. When she was in her twenties Peter from Manchester had taken real good care of her. Peter had supplied her with an apartment, a car, a monthly stipend and a visa card. He also had the courtesy to only visit her no more than a couple of times a year, leaving her free to do as she pleased the rest of the time. After Peter, the others paled by comparison. John was the best she could do now and that was a serious disappointment to Na. She hated getting old.

She stubbed out her cigarette and began to apply her face make-up. For Na life was getting tougher and tougher everyday. Not just making her face up but the whole routine. Getting out there on the street and attracting a punter was no cake walk anymore. The pay was crap these days too. When she was in her prime she could turn three or four tricks a night and the money rolled in. These days she was lucky to get two paying clients a week and how was a girl supposed to manage on just a few hundred baht a time? Some of those cheap Charlie farangs even begrudged her that. She had no choice these days but to work the street. She had a favourite spot on Beach Road opposite Soi 8. It had been more than twenty years since she had worked in a bar. She had quit her last bar job when she got pregnant the last time and could never get hired again. Na never really knew who Joy’s father was but she liked to think it might have been a tall, blonde American sailor who stood out in her memory. She would have gone with him for free if he had asked. Anyway, Joy was grown up now and was working in Phuket. Na’s other daughter Wan had gone to live in Norway and Na hardly heard from her anymore. She had no idea who Wan’s father was. In those days there had been so many nameless, faceless customers it was impossible to say.

The money was all gone now and there wasn’t much to show for it really. A good chunk had gone on medical bills when her father died. She had been on her back day and night trying to keep up with the payments. The useless old git had lingered for months and had cost a small fortune in drugs and hospital fees. Her mother’s passing ten years later had been a quicker and cheaper affair and she did miss her mother. She also gambled away a heap of money in those years too. The girls always had a card game going on to pass the time during the long hours of daylight. Such a waste really.

John stirred on the bed behind her and let out a little snort and kind of gurgled a bit. Na glanced round and willed him not to wake up just yet. She’d almost finished her make up and she would be ready to go in a few more minutes. It was always easier if John was asleep or already out himself when she went to work.

Finally, she was finished. She dusted off her nose and squirted some perfume on her tits before heaving them into a black, strapless wonder bra. She was no threat to the swarms of young girls working the bars and go-gos all over Pattaya but she still had something some farangs wanted. She slipped her favourite red dress over her head and pulled it straight. This one showed off her legs to good effect and was also pretty low around the bust. She never wore knickers to work anymore. Flashing a little gash worked wonders on the boardwalk. She checked her over all appearance one more time in the mirror. OK she thought, good to go.

Oops, she nearly forgot. The condoms were in the bedside cabinet. The men in her client age group almost never carried condoms so she liked to have her own supply handy. These older blokes were so stupid. As she quietly slid open the cabinet drawer she noticed that John had stopped snoring and there was something odd about his facial expression. She leaned over him and prodded his boney shoulder. She had already half guessed.

“You miserable, selfish bastard” she said out loud. John lay there motionless. He was quite dead. “Well, we’ll just have to sort you out after I finish work. I’m late” she snapped and scowled at the corpse.

Then she scooped up his cigarettes and his wallet and put them in her handbag. She grabbed the condoms, turned on her heel and left for her usual spot on the beach. If she was late, those thieving, scumbag ladyboys would only muscle in on her patch. She only had a few short hours to make some money and John wouldn’t be going anywhere tonight.

In the back of the baht bus she deftly sorted through the contents of John’s wallet and transferred the cash and ATM cards into her handbag. She left all the other personal crap where it was. As she alighted at the end of Soi 8 she discreetly dropped the wallet into an open wheely bin and strode across the road. “Evening ladies” she called playfully to a small group of kateoys lurking in the shadows nearby. She was just in time. She sat on the low wall under her usual palm tree and had a little think. Maybe she would go to Phuket tomorrow to see Joy. Someone would discover John’s remains in a week or so she wouldn’t have to bother. And she had some money now.

Union Hill

© Union Hill. All rights reserved by the author.

Download