The Pattaya Sky Dive

James slid silently out of bed and padded across the room, picking up his cigarettes from the coffee table as he went. He wrapped a towel around himself as he looked back at her lying there. She was a beauty alright. Geaw or Golf or Jeab or something. He couldn't remember. It didn't matter.

He quietly slid back the balcony door and stepped outside. It must have been around seven am. The sun was up and it was already thirty degrees. The view was really quite something from up there on the eighteenth floor. Pattaya was always beautiful early in the morning.

James lit a cigarette and drew the smoke in deeply.

So that was it, he thought to himself. It sure had been fun. Christ, it had been a real blast but now, it was over and James had to check out.

He flicked the half smoked cigarette into the air, stepped up onto the balcony rail and without hesitating, stepped off into the nothingness of that beautiful, balmy Pattaya morning.

James couldn't help feeling slightly apprehensive. He always did before meeting Jurgen. There was usually no reason for it, but Jurgen was the boss and he would not have flown half way around the world on this surprise visit without a damned good reason.

James knew full well the importance of punctuality when dealing with the Germans so despite his apprehension, arrived at The Sheraton on Sukhumvit Road with ten minutes to spare. He badly needed a drink but resisted that temptation, reasoning to himself that a clear head might be needed today. Five years of living in Bangkok had left James rather heavily reliant on alcohol but as with all alcoholics, James blamed everyone and everything except himself for his dependence on the bottle.

A bell-hop led James to the private conference room that Jurgen had booked for the meeting. Before entering, James checked his appearance. Tie? Straight. Shoes? Clean. No spinach on the teeth. OK. He knocked and entered.

Seated around the table were some of the company's heaviest hitters. James was taken aback somewhat. Jurgen was sitting at the head of the table flanked by the head of finance, the chief operations director and the head of international projects. Jesus, thought James, whatever this was about, it must be important.

Thirty minutes later, James was standing in the car park in a state of dazed, shock. They knew.
James had had his hand in the company till for so long, he was hardly aware of it anymore. He had been systematically bleeding the company's coffers for years. A routine internal audit had revealed some discrepancies which had led the senior management to launch an internal investigation. That had been concluded and James was caught like a rat in a trap.

They had fired him and next, they were going to crucify him. Jurgen had made it clear that he would not be satisfied until he had James' balls on a skewer.

James knew he could never face going to prison. Prison in Thailand was not worth contemplating.

He tried to consider his options but now he really needed a drink. James fired up the Merc and pointed it towards Soi 22. He needed a drink desperately and he also needed some peace and quiet in which to think. He knew just the place. Plato's would be open.

James had no idea if the owner of this bar was really called Plato or not. The bar owner was a Greek Cypriot who had a reputation amongst the expat drinking community for dispensing sound advice in a crisis. That was good enough for James. Plato was the only man in Bangkok allowed to address James as 'Jimbo'. Such was their friendship.

James stared at the large glass of Jack Daniels and Coke that Plato had put in front of him and tried to think.

No use offering to give the money back, thought James. He didn't have it anymore. Sure, he had a few thousand dollars left but most of the four million was gone. There was the house in Bangkok which was not in his name. The house in Buriram, which was not in his name. There had been the endless stream of prostitutes, the parties in the Champagne Lounge, the frequent long weekends in Phuket. Mom Tri's Boathouse had a table permanently reserved for James and 'a guest' on Saturday evenings. The gold chains and trinkets he had bought and given to one girlfriend after another. The whole lot had gone on a lavish lifestyle lasting five years.

James had to consider that maybe now, it was finally time to pay the piper.

With that, James's phone rang. He looked at the display and sighed. Fon was calling again. Don't these women ever the get the damned message? James sighed as he punched the accept button intending this time to give Fon the permanent 'heave-ho' in plain and simple English.

"Khun James, I have to see you today. Have big problem." Fon began.

Her timing could not have been worse.

Fon was a stunner who had an outrageous appetite for sex but she always seemed to have some problem that needed solving. Usually a financial contribution from James made her problem disappear, until the next time. But today, she had simply picked the wrong day.

"Look, Fon. Leave me alone and don't call this number any more. I don't want to hear from you again. Do you understand?"

"But Khun James, I have big problem. I in hospital now, not clean you know? Please come to see me."

What now? Thought James. The silly cow had probably gone and caught the clap or something and now she wanted someone to pay the hospital bill.

"OK. OK. Where are you? I'll come to see you straight away."

He would go and see Fon and tell her face to face that whatever she thought was happening between them was over and that would be that. Today, his own problems were taking precedence.

An hour later, James had arrived at the hospital and for the second time today, he felt his blood run cold and his stomach churn. Fon was still talking but James hadn't heard anything after the words 'HIV positive' and 'AIDS'.

James stared into space, his mind struggled to process the information his ears were receiving. In something of a trance, James stood up and wandered out of the hospital. For the second time today, he felt shocked and dazed.

James slumped into the driver's seat and stared out of the windscreen. He didn't have the strength or focus to start the car yet. He needed a moment.

His mind wandered back to those long weekends at Mom Tri's Boathouse. Those wild parties in the Champagne Lounge and oh so many beautiful women. Maybe it was fair, he considered. Maybe squeezing that much life into forty years was like trying to pour a quart into a pint pot. No matter how hard you try, it just won't go.

He turned the ignition key and headed back to Plato's bar.

As he picked his way through the traffic James' thought wandered.

Maybe his life was running out of gas. Whatever happened next, his life would only be a pale and boring existence compared to the last five years and he knew he would not be able to accept it. Even if he avoided prison and was free of the Big One, both of which he considered unlikely, he knew he could never go back to being a pay as you earn tax dummy in a cold climate.

Was it time for one more blast on the horn of life?

Plato served up a JD & Coke as James walked in.

"Hey Jimbo, you sure look happier than when you were here this morning" chimed Plato as he slid the drink across the bar.

"Plato, I feel a party coming on" said James. "Fancy a night out in Pattaya?"

Union Hill

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