Links
Our banners
Latest News
Newsletter archive
Interviews
Sileakhunt
Book Store

Greg couldn't believe how fast the driver had him back at his house. Flying down the rain slicked street Greg thought he was going to die numerous times, and thought he had nearly pissed himself on at least two occasions. These motocyke drivers seemed to have no fear he could see, and were expert in weaving through the traffic-congested roads of Bangkok. The driver pulled up to his apartment complex in a sliding skid and Greg jumped off and stuffed 200 baht into his hands. The driver grinned at the huge tip and thanked Greg profusely as he ran up the steps into the lobby. Greg noticed he was soaked from the drizzling rain and his shoes squished and squeaked as he hurried through the lobby to his condo. He also realized he had forgotten his tote umbrella in the hotel room during all the excitement and his rush to leave. The lobby attendant and security guard stared at him with concern as he sped by the front desk area. Greg said nothing as he rushed by. The security guard was someone Greg always said hello to and usually stopped for a minute or two to chat with. Greg liked the guy and used him to practice his halting Lao that he was always trying to learn. The guard frowned as he said, a note of worry in his voice, “Is everything all right sir?” Greg didn't even hear him, and kept on going out the door leading to the pool area. His mind was on other things and rapidly churning through scenarios of what he’d encounter once home. Noi’s instability these past few years and her evil temper and vindictiveness brought all sorts of crazy thoughts to his frazzled brain.

His house was dark and unlighted he saw immediately as he rounded the pool and approached the back sliding-glass doors. Not a good sign. His wife was almost always home with the girls at this time of night. Greg fumbled in his pockets for his keys and unlocked the slider and stepped into the house, forgetting to remove his shoes and tracking sand and water onto the tiled floor by the door, something Noi would rant about for hours if she had been there to see him. Greg felt around for the overhead light switch in the dark and finally managed to find it, blinking in the glare as it flickered to life. He hurried from room to room while calling out his wife and children’s names. There was no answer. The house was deathly quiet.

In the girls rooms he looked about and saw nothing out of place, but when he searched through the closets and drawers he saw they were empty of all clothing. Going to the hall closet he saw their family luggage was gone. Greg now knew and realized his wife had been planning this all along, and probably had known exactly where he was going these past few months. She’d probably planned this after talking with her parents. Her father, being a high ranking policeman, had probably introduced her to, or hired himself more likely, a private detective agency in Bangkok to follow him around and gain evidence to his ‘butterflying’ ways. Her father never had cottoned to Greg really, and was embarrassed that his daughter had married a farang and not some fast moving upwardly mobile Thai man instead. He blamed Greg for all his daughter Noi’s mental problems and odd behavior of late, and resented Greg’s reluctance to have more children and produce a grandson for the family. Greg always knew Noi’s father was not happy with their marriage, and suspected he undermined him, Greg, with Noi every chance he could, berating her for marrying a foreigner.

Greg moaned and grabbed his head in despair; staggering slightly he slowly walked over to the sofa in the living room and collapsed into it. He noticed his hands were trembling, and felt a chill run down his spine.

“Shit! Shit! Shit, piss and corruption!” he screamed in his mind. “This is so fucked up.”, he thought to himself wearily. The earlier adrenaline rush was gone, and now he felt dog tired. Getting up from the sofa he went to the mini bar by the wall in the dining room and poured himself a stiff shot of strong Irish whiskey, gulping it down in one swift toss of the tumbler. He shuddered as the sweet smoky fire tore down his throat and exploded in his stomach and he nearly retched. Pouring another stiff shot he went back and sat on the couch and pondered his fate. He knew his wife and daughters were more than likely at his in-law’s house. He wanted to call there, but it was too late now, and there would probably be no point; as his in-laws would more than likely just hang up on him knowing what they knew had happened. He grabbed his mobile phone and dialed his work number. Greg usually went in to work on Saturdays for a few hours like most business people who work in Bangkok. His only full day off was Sunday. He left a message on his secretary’s answering machine, telling her he had a family emergency and would be away at least until Monday, but maybe longer, and that he’d call her again later, and to cancel any appointments and meetings he had scheduled for Saturday morning. He told her to have his assistant handle anything that had to be done that was urgent, though at the moment he couldn't think of anything that couldn't be put off until Monday.

Greg’s brain was a muddle. He couldn't think straight. The whiskey flowed through his veins and calmed the tremors in his hands and warmed his body. He knew he shouldn't, but he took another sip from the nearly full tumbler in his hand and felt its warming fiery embrace as it slid down to his gut.

As he sat there feeling sorry for himself and worrying about his daughters and what his wife would probably do with the pictures and information gathered by the P.I., he had a jolting thought. Damn! Noi had access to almost all his ATM and checking and savings accounts. Except for his trust fund he had gotten once he turned 21, from monies his mother had left him that she had inherited from her father’s estate and left to him in her will when she died, most of their accounts were joint, as were their credit cards. “Christ!” he thought to himself, “How could I have not thought of that with what’s been going on lately? Damn! “

He pushed himself up off the sofa and hurriedly retraced his steps back to the lobby front door, past the chattering guard and clerk. Waving down a passing motocyke taxi driver from the front curb he jumped on and had the man drop him off down Soi 22 in front of the all night AM/PM store where there was an ATM machine out front. He took out his Thai Farm Bank ATM card and inserted it into the slot. When he tried to check the balance it showed it was empty. He frantically tried another account he had with the Thai Military Bank; also it showed it was empty. Shit! Taking out his Visa Credit card he accessed the account and tried to get a cash advance from it. It showed it was maxed out, no money available.

“Goddamn her black fucking Buddhist Thai money grubbing soul!” he shouted as he slammed his fist into the wall by the ATM machine, startling an old beggar woman sleeping by his feet against the wall of a sheltered doorway, and a passing soi dog by his leg, who jumped away from him and growled menacingly. He felt a sharp pain in his hand and held his fist to his chest while his mind raced. “The fucking mental cow wiped out all the accounts.” he thought wildly. As he stood there thinking he was glad he never gave her access to the trust account. A prudent move on his part. Then he remembered his stash account he had at the Bangkok Bank. It was where he stashed some baht every week for his butterflying nightlife expenses, which Noi knew nothing about. He had set it up months ago so Noi wouldn't be able to track any extra expenses he racked up paying for sexual favors from the working girls he had started frequenting before he met Joy. He opened his wallet and opened a secret zippered compartment in the back of the wallet, a gift from his daughter Mary for his past birthday. Inside was the Bangkok Bank ATM card. He slipped it in the slot and checked the balance. Nearly 100,000 baht was inside. He sighed with relief. At least he’d have funds available until he could go to the bank Monday morning and cancel all the old accounts and open some new ones in his name only. He had no intention of letting his wife grab his work check deposits as well. He’d have to transfer some cash from the trust fund account to use until the end of the month until payday. “Fuck!” Greg thought, “The crazy bitch must have taken all the credit cards and maxed them out with cash advances, and she cleaned out our checking and savings accounts probably over the past week or two a little at a time. I never usually check the balances unless there is some problem. How much would this total? A few million baht surely. Jesus wept!” Greg took a few thousand baht out from his secret Bangkok Bank account. Standing there after he got his cash he decided not to go back to the empty house right away. It was too depressing really. He turned and looked down the street. Denny’s Corner Bar in the distance was still open it seemed he noticed. He looked at his watch. “Jeezus. After one already. Time sure flies when you’re having fun.” he thought sardonically.

The whiskey in his belly spoke to him in its soothing voice. “Hey, what the hell, a couple more beers won’t hurt, and maybe Nutty Nit is there. You could sure use one of her relaxing expert shoulder massages over an ice cold beer. Nothing to go home to now and nothing you can do until tomorrow anyway. Go have a few pops and wind down after this horrible night.”

Greg listened to the Irish brogue of the sly, smooth talking, seemingly sensible voice of the John Powers Three Swallow Irish whiskey sloshing around in his belly. He pocketed his cash, turned his feet up toward Sukhumvit Road, and made his way to Denny’s Corner Bar where hopefully awaited the soothing hands of Nutty Nit. “Why the hell not?” he thought to himself, as his shoes made strange farting noises from the water within their expensive leather as he plodded across the street and down to the bar.

(To be continued)

Cent
(The Central Scrutinizer)