Bar Girl (18 page)

She knocked on the door that led to the kitchen before entering. She heard the sudden movement, the sound of dishes being moved, before she walked in.

‘Hi Mike,’ she said and smiled warmly to both him and Rican.

Mike was sat at the small kitchen table. Rican busied herself with some dishes on the worktop they had installed for her. The place was spotless. Rican had been a good choice. A very good choice if Mike’s smile was anything to judge her by.

‘Oh, Siswan. Just going over some menu items with Rican,’ he said.

‘Yes, I see.’ Siswan grinned at the pair of them. It was so obvious. ‘Any chance of a quick chat? If you aren’t too busy of course?’

She caught Rican smile to herself just before she turned to the sink.

‘Oh, yes. Yes, of course,’ Mike said, standing.

Once back downstairs they took up their usual positions at the bar. This was where almost all of their business discussions took place.

‘There’s a bar for sale, Mike,’ Siswan said.

‘There’s quite a few for sale, Siswan. There always is.’ Mike looked at her.

‘The one I have in mind would need some work.’

‘As much as this one did?’

‘Probably more.’ She laughed.

‘How much are we talking about?’ he asked.

‘To buy it and get it sorted we’re talking three million, Mike,’ she told him. Mike was quiet for a moment. He seemed to be thinking about something else. As though what she had suggested was irrelevant.

‘Siswan. You have enough money to do that on your own. Why are you discussing it with me?’ he asked.

‘Don’t you want to be involved?’

‘It’s not that. I just don’t understand why you would want me to be involved.’ He looked into her eyes. ‘I’m just an old man. You’re young. Why don’t you do it alone, or, better still, with someone your own age?’

‘I told you before, you’re like a father to me,’ she smiled.

‘Even so. You really don’t need me for the next bar, Siswan. Or the one after that.’ He smiled as well.

‘Yes I do. I can’t do it alone. Not a local woman,’ she told him.

‘What do you mean?’

‘A local woman? On her own? Making money? Come on, Mike. The men wouldn’t allow that. They’d move in and take the lot within a week!’ She became slightly animated.

‘They’ve left you alone here, Siswan. Everyone knows you run the place and they haven’t tried to muscle in. What is it you’re afraid of?’ Mike asked.

‘You really don’t know how it works do you? Women are second class here, Mike. They are expected to just cook and clean and pleasure their men. They aren’t supposed to go out and get rich!’ Siswan laughed.

‘And you think having a farang up front stops them?’ Mike asked.

‘Yes. Of course. You are a man. A farang man at that. You’re expected to have money. Expected to be successful at business. Everyone knows that you’re the brains behind this bar. Everyone knows that I’m just doing what you tell me to do,’ Siswan pointed out.

‘Okay, okay. I can understand some of that. I think,’ he said.

‘It took me a long time to find out how it all works here, Mike. Every successful woman stands behind a man. Farang mostly, sometimes local. The most successful have a farang husband,’ she said.

‘You want to marry me?’ he asked, with a grin.

‘Marry my Papa? That’s not allowed,’ she said, with a grin of her own.

They sat in silence for a while. Siswan gave Mike the time for everything she had said to sink in. Wanted him to understand why she wanted him. Needed him.

‘So, I’m nothing more than a front man for you, then?’ he asked, eventually.

‘That’s how it started, Mike,’ she told him honestly. ‘When I first approached you that was all I wanted.’

‘And now?’

‘And now, it’s different. Now I want you as my friend,’ she answered him.

‘How do I know that you’re not just saying that to get me to cooperate?’ He looked at her.

‘You don’t. I might be doing just that,’ she said.

‘I guess I’ll never know, will I?’

‘You can only know yourself, Mike. You can only believe what you want to believe. That’s all anyone can do.’ She looked him in the eyes. Hoped that he would believe her.

‘Okay, Siswan. Is there any point me looking at this bar, or do you just want me to sign the papers?’ he asked.

‘I’d like you to see it first. You may not like it.’ She hugged his arm. ‘We can go tomorrow.’

‘Who’s going to run it?’

‘I will. To begin with,’ she answered.

‘Who’s going to run this place?’ He didn’t think, for one minute that she expected him to do it.

‘Apple. At least I hope so. I’ll need to speak to her about it,’ she said.

‘And what will be my role, exactly?’

‘Well, apart from getting fat eating all the food Rican is cooking for you.’ She laughed. ‘We’ll need you to move between the bars. Make sure everyone sees you as the boss.’

‘Seems fairly simple. I think I’ll be able to manage that,’ he smiled.

‘Which? The bars or getting fat with Rican?’ she asked.

‘Oh,’ he answered, with a grin. ‘Both, I reckon.’

After Siswan had spoken with Apple, she remembered she had to post the letter to Ped. Apple had readily agreed, just as Siswan suspected. It meant more money, more responsibility. She would, to all intents and purposes, be the boss of Mike’s Bar. The idea had enthralled the girl.

‘And if I need you, you’ll only be a few doors away, right?’ she had asked Siswan at the end of the discussion.

‘Yes. A quick phone call and I’ll come straight away. Mike will be around as well, so you’ll have nothing to worry about. You’ll be fine,’ Siswan had told her.

She had meant it too. Apple would learn very quickly. The rest of the girls all looked upon her as second in command already. It would be an easy step to make her the boss.

Apple was, by far, the most intelligent of the bar girls. She understood Siswan and often adopted her approach when dealing with the farangs, and the girls.

‘Will I be allowed to change my uniform?’ she asked.

‘Of course. You can’t wear the same as the girls. That wouldn’t work at all,’ Siswan answered, with a smile.

‘I’d like to wear a dress. Nothing too fancy. Maybe a little black number, or a blue one. Dark blue.’ Apple was lost in her own thoughts.

Siswan left her to it. The responsibility of her new position would sink in eventually. It wouldn’t all be about what colour dress to wear.

Now she had to get down to the post office before it closed. She left the bar just as the rest of the girls turned up for work. They all gave her a wai as she walked past them and she smiled to each in return. She had to admit, they were looking good. All smiles and laughter. No wonder the bar was doing so well. It was all about the girls.

When she had first heard about the bar she wanted to buy, she had gone to take a look. The girls there were tired, bored and dressed like tarts. They lacked sparkle. Lacked anything that would attract anything more than the most tight fisted farangs to the bar.

She knew what was needed. There were two girls that had to go this time. Two who shared the leadership over the others. Even Tam hadn’t been that stupid. There could only ever be one boss.

The new bar had too many girls anyway. Siswan had counted eight sat outside the doors looking hostile towards potential customers. She couldn’t understand them. They needed customers to make money but resented them for being able to pay.

She’d seen that before. Girls who went with farangs, talked sweet to them, flirted with them so willingly and then, as soon as the farang was out of earshot, told all and sundry about how inadequate he was, how much of a ‘cheap charlie’ he was and how much she hated being with him.

She smiled at the term ‘cheap charlie’. The actual translation was ‘ki neow’. It meant that the farang had money but wouldn’t spend it. Some of the farangs were like that. She would be the first to concede that point. But not half as many as the locals. They were the real ‘cheap charlies’. The locals spent all their time fleecing the farangs. Some of them, like herself, made a huge amount of money, but they certainly didn’t spend it.

The jet ski and speedboat rides were the biggest con of all. During the times when she could walk along the beach, she would sometimes occupy her mind by working out how much the beach boys were making.

She counted how many times a single jet ski was rented out. Averaged it over a day, a week, a month and, finally, a year. Allowed for rainy days. Allowed for the low season, the high season, maintenance, repairs, even the cost of the actual machine itself. Then she counted out how many jet skis there were. The total for the year was staggering. Almost sixteen million a year in clear profit. And that was without taking into account the speedboats, the parascending and the banana rides.

The beach boys were making a fortune and yet they were so tight with their money it made farangs pale into comparison. No, the real cheap charlies were the locals. Take herself as an example. She lived in a small room because it was cheap. Only used motorbike taxis when she had to, and that was mostly at night. She walked everywhere else. Spent as little as possible on clothes, or anything else she considered a luxury, and never bought a drink.

At least she had a reason for saving her money. A reason for wanting to earn more. With the new bar up and running, her and Mike would soon be making a lot. Real money. Serious money. That was what she needed. A lot of it. When she reached the post office she paid for a registered delivery for Ped’s letter. She didn’t trust the regular post. Too many letters went missing. Especially letters containing money or cheques. It was a well known fact throughout the country. If there was money involved, the mail went missing.

She walked back to the bar and thought about Ped. Wondered what she was up to. Her letters had only really talked about Siswan’s parents not about her cousin. It would be good to speak with her by telephone. She could find out a lot more.

*****

Over the next few weeks Siswan found herself very busy. As soon as Mike had signed all the papers, and they had passed over the money, the real work began.

She spent the first few days getting the place cleaned. The toilets had been disgusting and she called in building workers to demolish them and erect new ones. She had the place redecorated and new signage put up outside.

She wanted to call the place ‘Mike’s Too’ but he insisted the name be ‘Swan’s Bar’ as a take on her name. She laughed at the idea but went along with it, just the same.

She converted the back of the bar into a pool playing area and installed four tables with proper lighting and scoreboards. The upstairs was converted into a kitchen and she asked Rican to find another cook who was as good as she was.

She had the old bar ripped out and a new, wooden one, installed with brand new optics and mirrors. She arranged with two breweries to have draught beers installed as well as bottled. A small room at the back sufficed as the cellar and, although it meant the draymen had to cart fresh barrels through the bar each week, she felt sure that her customers would welcome fresh beer straight from the keg.

New fridges had to be obtained and fitted into the rear of the serving area behind the bar and two new tills, complete with electronic software to account for every drink sold, were slotted in where the customers could easily see them.

She left nothing to chance. Even the lampshades she had installed matched the décor. When she had finished she looked around the place with pride. It looked good. Welcoming. There was only one thing left to sort out. The bar girls. Without them, the place would never take off. No matter how good it looked.

She knew of a bar that been built just a year before. The owner, a farang, had spent a fortune on the place. It had every conceivable luxury. Silk cushions to lounge on. Amazing cocktails. Spectacular lighting and the longest, most beautiful, marble bar anyone had ever seen. It failed. No one went there because the farang had a local wife who didn’t want him to employ bar girls. No honey, no money!

Six months after it had opened, it closed. A local man had eventually bought it, at a fraction of its true value, and turned it into a disco. With lots of girls. It was making a small fortune.

Siswan had deliberately ignored the girls whilst she had been carrying out the renovations. She still paid them because she wanted to keep them there. Get them talking. The best advertising she could get, and the cheapest, was to have the girls talking.

They would talk to their friends. Their friends would talk to their friends. Soon, everyone would know about the new place. Other girls would be interested. They would come to take a look. When they did, Siswan would be able to pick out the ones she wanted.

A few had already been to take a look. None that Siswan wanted as yet. Friends of the existing girls. She wanted fresh blood. New girls that could be easily moulded. They would come. They always came.

Eventually, when everything was finished and she was ready to open the doors to customers, she had sorted out the girls she wanted to work for her. Only one of the existing girls remained. The rest were dismissed without any argument.

She took them all down to Mike’s Bar. When they peered through the doors they saw a bar in full swing. Girls, who looked fresh and sexy, wandered around taking care of customers who, in turn, were laughing and enjoying themselves.

‘This is a bar, girls. A real bar,’ she said to them. ‘The girls get two days off a week, earn anywhere between eighteen to twenty-five thousand a month and, best of all, they really enjoy themselves. Interested?’

There was a general murmur of ‘yes’ and ‘of course’ from the six girls stood around her. She noted who said what.

She saw Apple detach herself from a customer and walk towards them. She looked amazing in her brand new, black dress. The hem wasn’t too short but still short enough to be sexy. Siswan could imagine her sitting on a bar stool. She’d have every pair of male eyes fastened on her legs.

‘Hello, Miss Siswan,’ Apple smiled and gave a wai to her boss. ‘What’s happening?’ she added, nodding towards the girls.

‘The girls needed to see a proper bar in action, Apple. What do you think, reckon we can get more customers than you?’ Siswan laughed.

Apple turned and looked in at the bar. The place was heaving. Music blared out from the big speakers and farang men and women danced and sang along with the rock and roll tune.

‘Well, I don’t know, Miss Siswan.’ Apple laughed. ‘If anyone can beat us it’ll be you, but, even so, you’re going to have a real fight on your hands. We won’t give up easily.’

Siswan smiled and turned to her new entourage. ‘Well, what do you think girls? Are you up to the challenge?’