Sarong Party Girls

chapter 20

Saturday night. Again.

I was feeling bloody bored.

Whole day long I was damn quiet. I wanted to tell someone, to talk to someone, but I also didn’t know what to say. All these things—everything that happened, where to begin? After that awful night at Manhattan, Roy had texted several times to apologize, saying that he had to be polite to Tucker, there was no way he could have said anything to contradict or embarrass him and hey, would I please just let him take me to a nice dinner—a real dinner—so he could explain? I didn’t even bother to respond. This kind of no-balls loser—worse than dating an Ah Beng, I tell you!

That Saturday at home I was so quiet that even my mum started to worry—she wondered why I didn’t go to the kopitiam to drink kopi and shake leg, why I didn’t go shopping with the girls, why I just sat in my room, not talking, not singing, not complaining at her when she burst into my room with her “Ah Huay!” nonsense.

“People here are tired lah,” I said for the sixth time in the afternoon, pulling the blanket over my face again when she pushed it off to try to get me to sip her energizing lotus root soup.

I could hear her standing there for quite a while, probably trying to think of something she could do or say, then very quietly leaving the room. She didn’t even slam the door as usual.

To prevent her from making even more soup—or worse, taking me to her Chinese doctor for acupuncture or some shit—I figured I’d better get out of the house on Saturday night. If guniang actually stayed at home on Saturday night—aiyoh, to my mum this confirm means that I am very sick, maybe even dying.

“Tonight, Barracuda, usual time,” Louis texted us all at 7 P.M.

At first, I thought, should I not go? I knew from Imo that Louis had been quite sweet with her this week. After sending her flowers that Sunday he even took her out for drinks one night after work to see if she was feeling better. (Fann and I asked her to pretend that she was still sick a bit, to see whether he might send more flowers or—even more best—buy her something that comes in a little blue box. But Imo, I tell you—she was so happy she forgot how to play game. This toot girl—my god, she really is his lapdog now. And Louis knows it.)

But those were the only updates I got about Louis until his group text. I just hope things weren’t going to be awkward with him. I mean, yeah, what happened was a bit weird. But I’d already forgotten the whole thing. Or tried to. What’s the point in thinking about it? In the end, we’ve all been such good friends for so long—what’s the point of making things weird over one small thing like that. Better to just pretend it never happened.

Anyway, it’s good that Louis sent the first text—if he is organizing, that means he confirm is coming. If he’s coming, then we not only have a good table but also free drinks all night.

Even though we all know Louis’s “usual time” means he wants us to come at 11 P.M. but he actually arrives at midnight or one—so that when he walks in like a superstar we’ve all already been sitting there for a long time waiting for him—we all decided to meet at eleven. Because Melvin was at a stag night with his friends anyway so he wouldn’t be free tonight until much later, Fann agreed to come out. And Imo—aiyah, anytime Louis is showing up anywhere, she confirm will want to be there on time.

And me—if I don’t go to Barracuda at eleven, where the fuck else do I have to go?

When I got there at eleven though, I regretted being so on time. I should have known that even though the three of us decided to not be late, everyone would be late. Never mind lah—I figured I’d start whacking Louis’s bottles first and all would be good. After last Saturday, if anybody deserves to drink his booze, it’s me, after all. So when the waiter asked, “Which bottle would you like us to bring out?” I just said, “The most expensive one. No, two. Yah, bring them both.”

Guniang here is not usually the one mixing drinks for myself or other people, so when the bottles came, I didn’t know what amount to put in. I sometimes see Kelvin being damn toot, carefully measuring measuring to see whether the glass has two-fingers-high worth of liquor before adding the mixers. But aiyoh, guniang here was lazy lah. (Plus, I didn’t want to look toot.) So when the waiter brought out two bottles of Glenfiddich I just poured a little in a shot glass and did a bottoms up. Wah—it felt like fire. Shiok! I did two of these fast then decided to sip the third with some ice.

I was happily sitting there at Louis’s table, listening to that Coldplay song that everyone loves—I don’t care who you are or what car you drive or who you are. Ah Bengs, ang mohs, atas bitches all jump up whenever they hear the song start and sing each line out loud loud type. Kani nah. All these fucking happy people. I decided to just close my eyes and listen to the song. OK lah, maybe life is not so bad after all.

“Miss? Miss?”

I opened my eyes. Aiyoh. Of course it was an Ah Beng—his eyes all big big, hopeful hopeful type.

“Fuck off,” I said, closing my eyes again.

“Hi,” another voice said this time. “Here alone?”

This time I started talking even before my eyes opened. “I said—fuck off!”

When I opened my eyes I realized it was actually quite a good-looking ang moh trying to talk to me! Aiyoh! By the time I tried to say, “Wait, wait!” it was too late already. The guy was shaking his head as he walked away.

At first I thought, Aiyoh, like that—so wasted. But then I realized, even if I talked to the guy, maybe go home with him, maybe don’t go home with him tonight but we have a date later, and then another date, and another date—in the end, is anything is actually going to happen? In the life of Jazeline Lim, let’s face it—probably not.

The moment I thought that, I tried to mentally slap myself. Aiyoh, Jazzy—come on! Cannot be so negative. Somehow or other, must try to stay positive! Just then, Imo and Fann arrived, so this guniang’s mood improved a bit. And Kelvin and Andrew were right behind them. Andrew had even invited Kin Meng out and all. Wah—tonight, really is a big night if the gang is all there! So I decided to just heck care everything. Focus on tonight! Especially since I was wearing something especially nice—tonight I was in one of my new fake Herve Leger bandage dresses, which looks like I have tight red stretchy bandages wrapped all around my boobs, waist and backside. The waist looks smaller, boobs look bigger, backside—aiyah, backside just the right size for making guys steam. Not bad!

“Did you cut your hair or something?” Kin Meng asked when he air-kissed me. “You look damn steam! My god, if I didn’t know you only like ang mohs I might try and get lucky with you tonight.”

“And if you weren’t married, I might think you’re not a lecherous old man for saying that!” I said, pinching his cheeks and slapping his backside.

Kin Meng look a bit shocked. I guess I’d never called him a lech before. (But hallo, truth is truth.) When he recovered a minute later, he gave me the third finger. I just blew a kiss at him.

Fann had gotten the rest of Louis’s bottles from out of his locker and made a round of vodka sodas. “Come,” she said, passing one to each one of us. “Bottoms up!”

After two rounds of this Louis finally showed up with three girls behind him. “Gang, this is Akiko, Emi and Naomi,” he said. “Ladies, this is the gang.”

Until this point, Andrew was in a corner, flirting a bit with Fann while Imo was dancing with Kelvin and Kin Meng but trying to keep her distance, especially from Kelvin, who kept coming up from behind and grinding his socks crotch into her backside. But the moment the Japanese girls showed up, all three guys immediately moved over to talk to them instead. I tell you, Japanese girls—the decent, nice ones, like not the ones you find in KTV lounges or one of those sleazy bars looking for a loaded husband type—are like ganja for guys like Kin Meng and all.

I still remember for Kelvin’s stag party a few years ago, Louis flew everyone to Tokyo for a last havoc weekend before the red bomb. They didn’t really want to talk much about it when they came back—which made us all think, aiyoh, really serious things must have happened there. Every time we tried and bugged them to tell us about it Louis always stopped everyone from talking by saying, “Fellas—what happens in Roppongi stays in Roppongi.”

But since Kin Meng tells me everything because he’s just a big gossip, I knew what happened lah. Basically, every kind of Japanese girl they saw, they just tried to whack—but they were very strategy about it. Louis went and did all this research to find out where the decent young chio Japanese girls like to hang out, then they went and pretended that they were just being tourists, want to get to know local girls, buy them lots of drinks—and then aiyah, you know lah. I think they were quite successful—Louis and Kin Meng know how to speak a bit of Japanese, since they often have to go to Tokyo for work and all. So they could automatically talk talk flirt flirt until the groups of chio nice girls were a bit more comfortable with all of them.

For the guys in the group who were less successful—they never said who exactly these were but I suspect Kelvin was one of those of course—Louis also had a backup plan. He had a list of KTV-like bars—but with high-quality local girls. So, worst comes to worst, everyone in the stag party also had someone to party with each night.

I tell you, when I heard this, I wondered why I was so unlucky not to be born a guy! My life where got so easy—having hot people to sleep with me just handed to me on a plate?

Since the guys had disappeared, Imo and Fann both came back to the booth and sat next to me. Imo grabbed the Glenfiddich and poured three full shots, picking one up then pointing at the two of us to fasterly pick ours up.

After we bottoms-up, I was starting to feel quite happy. But Imo’s face was damn sour. She had poured a second round of shots for us but instead of downing it she was just sipping—sipping and staring, sipping and staring. But no matter how hard she stared, Louis never looked over at her. I could hear Fann giggling now and then next to me.

“Eh—guniang, you possessed by love magic, is it? Whole life texting Melvin!” I said. “Can you pretend a bit that you actually like hanging out with us?”

Now Fann was also sour-faced, but at least she put away her phone.

I regretted scolding her lah. I know I should be happy for her. And I’m sure she thinks that I’m just jealous or some shit. In fact, I think Imo was also thinking that I’m jealous of Louis and her lumpar bouquet of flowers. Which only made me feel like telling her, “Hallo—he was only sending you flowers because he was feeling guilty for forcing your best friend to fuck him.” But then, when I think about it more, doesn’t the fact that he feels guilty mean that he’s maybe getting serious with Imo?

I guess they were right perhaps. Maybe I am just not being a very good friend to them.

“Eh, guniangs,” I said, grabbing the Glenfiddich and topping up all our glasses before holding mine up. “I think we should do a cheers.”

Imo and Fann looked a bit confused. I guess they were still a bit unhappy, wondering what kind of cock thing I’m going to say to make them snap out of it. Even so, they followed me, picking up their glasses and all.

“I’m really happy for you two,” I said. “I know these few weeks without Sher—it’s been a bit weird lah. But you two are doing so well. Look at Fann—so fast and you’re so close to having your mission accomplished! And Imo, aiyah, we just want you to be happy. I’m damn proud, you know. Come… cheers! Cheers!”

“It’s true,” Imo said, smiling for the first time since the Japanese girls appeared. “Bottoms up!”

So we quickly bottoms-up and then hugged each other tightly. “Come,” Fann said. “Now let’s just heck care all the boys and have fun with each other. Let’s dance!”

And actually, after that it was damn fun. We laugh laugh, dance dance, even sing sing a bit. In fact, we were having so much fun, heck caring the boys and the Japanese girls, that at some point they noticed what a happening time we were having. So they came over to join us!

In between all that we bottoms-upped now and then of course. It was good to be able to forget everything for a while, all the cock things that happened so recently. At one point Fann had had so many shots she had to go to the loo and vomit. But it was good. After that happened, she was not only all OK—she was feeling even better than before! “Why are you girls so lazy, sitting down and all?” she said, poking me and Imo in the back when she came back. “Come—bottoms up!” Good times lah—in fact, it was almost like secondary school days. Carefree and all.

My feet were hurting by the time Louis started looking like he was getting ready to make a move. Most of the night, even though he came over to say hi hi a bit with Imo now and then, he was mostly talking and rubba-ing a bit with one of the Japanese girls. (I forget which one—you know how it is lah; Japanese names all sound alike.) And we could kind of tell it was getting to be that time of the night where he has to make a move already. It was now four-something—if Louis leaves now, he can still squeeze in a quick stop and make it home at a decent hour so Mary doesn’t spend all day tomorrow throwing tantrums and making him take her shopping at Paragon. That’s when I noticed Imo getting a bit sour again, staring at Louis wrapping his arms around the Japanese girl, dancing and rubba-ing.

“Imo,” I said. “You OK or not?”

She just blinked and nodded, but her eyes were a bit angry. Actually, not just angry. I’ve known her for how many years already. I know that when she looks like this, very soon, waterfalls will happen. After the bouquet and the drinks date, I guess maybe she thought tonight would be different.

At this moment though, we noticed Louis breaking away from the Japanese guniang. Imo quickly turned her face away and very fasterly wiped her eyes, then turned back to look straight ahead, as if nothing happened.

“Imo,” Louis said, smiling and pinching her cheeks when he came over. “You ready to leave or want to stay some more? I send you home?”

I tell you—Imo’s face transformed! One minute she was trying to purposely put on a stone face, the next minute she was practically jumping up into Louis’s arms.

“Great,” Louis said, pointing at her to grab her handbag. “Come—I’m sending Akiko home also. We’ll all go together.”

Aiyoh. Aiyoh-yoh. I looked at Imo, whose face was a bit less smiley now. But she just nodded and followed. Before she left, I grabbed her hand and squeezed it, feeling her squeeze it back. I was about to suggest that she and I leave together instead, and maybe grab supper on the way home. But before I could, Imo used her hand to make the telephone sign near her ear and mouthed, “I’ll call you.”

Fann had gone to the loo again, I guess. (And I guess it was another productive round because she came back looking less mabuk and much more energy than before.)

“Eh,” she said. “Where did Imo go?”

“Louis,” I said.

Fann smiled and gave me two thumbs up but I just shook my head.

“See how lah,” I said. “Louis is sending her and that Japanese girl back also. Aiyoh.”

Fann rolled her eyes and pointed her third finger toward the club exit.

“Um, Jazzy,” she said. “I make a move first… OK with you?”

I looked at my phone. Aiyoh, it was almost 5 A.M. already.

“Of course, of course,” I said, waving her to hurry off.

“Thank you,” she said. “You’re going to be OK right? If I wasn’t meeting Melvin…”

“Aiyoh, please!” I told her, whacking her arm one time. “Guniang here is how old already? You go and get laid lah—do it for the two of us!”

Fann stuck her third finger at me then grabbed her purse and hugged me goodbye.

I was thinking that maybe I would share a taxi with Kin Meng—he’s usually quite good about making sure I get home OK. But tonight, I forgot—with Japanese girls around, confirm is a different case. Just when I was going to ask him about sharing taxi I saw him put his arm around one of the girls and wave goodbye to me and Kelvin. Andrew also did the same with the other girl.

Kelvin and I looked at each other. Kani nah. This wasn’t happening.

Now, how?

I had never spent any time alone with Kelvin before and now he was kind of in the position to at least be a gentleman and send me back—unless I opened my mouth to say I was going to leave first. But guniang didn’t feel like going home yet. The thought of it, being alone in that room, that bed, tonight, was too sobering.

Luckily, Kelvin spoke first.

“Jazzy—boring now, right?” he said. Which was very true. Barracuda is one of those gigantic clubs where it’s only fun if you go with a big group. Plus, since it was almost five, the club was starting to wind down a bit, so you could see big empty spots here and there on the damn bloody huge dance floor—something like the dance floors in those loser nightclubs where everyone’s too shy to dance so they just hang around and be wallflowers.

“You ready to go home now or not?” he asked.

When I shook my head, he continued. “Good—me too,” he said. “Come, I’ll bring you somewhere.”

I guess I must have looked nauseous or something, because he quickly added, “Aiyoh, please—don’t think that your backside is so great. People here are not trying to make a move on you—I just want to bring you somewhere more fun.”

Set! I just laughed, gave him the thumbs-up sign and grabbed my handbag.

The club Kelvin had in mind was actually not far—good lah, no need to queue up for taxi. When he saw me hobbling a bit because my feet were hurting he was actually nice enough to offer me his arm to help me steady steady all. I have to admit that I was a little shocked—I whole life long had never seen this side of Kelvin before. It actually made me feel a bit bad about being so mean about talking about his socks crotch over the years. (But just for a moment.) Then I realized—hallo, if he weren’t so toot as to stuff his crotch with socks then we wouldn’t have anything to make fun of him about. It’s his own bloody fault.

After a few minutes, Kelvin turned into the Dynasty Hotel lobby, which was a bit quiet—of course, it was five-something in the morning after all! I was about to ask him whether there was really a bar or not—the lobby was so deserted. But as we walked through the lobby all the way to the back, I could hear people chitchatting and some muffled clubby music. When we got to the far end of the lobby, there was a small partition and behind that, big double glass doors under the sign SOS. Walao—what kind of toot bar is this?

The moment Kelvin opened the heavy glass door—voom! The music suddenly got damn bloody loud, filling the lobby momentarily. And inside, I could see a big crowd jammed around a bar, and an even bigger crowd cramming a small parquet dance floor. There were a few dark banquettes scattered around—I couldn’t really see much but I could see moving shapes in all of them.

I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to enter or not but Kelvin had already started walking in, so I fasterly followed. He squeezed his way through to the bar and cleared enough room so I could stand next to him.

“What do you want?” he said, quickly tilting his head up slightly in that attitude Ah Beng way.

I was so confused by the surroundings I didn’t know what to say. “Whatever you’re having,” I said.

“Two Jamesons on the rocks,” Kelvin said to the bartender, holding up two fingers and watching him closely as he poured, I guess to make sure that he was getting his money’s worth. Since Louis wasn’t here, Kelvin was paying for our drinks after all.

“Come—cheers,” he said, when the drinks arrived. “Just cheers—no bottoms up. If you want to bottoms-up, you can take out your wallet and buy the next round.”

Bloody hell. But, I have to say, fair is fair. I clinked his glass and took a sip.

Kelvin turned around and stood on the raised step underneath the bar so he could get a better look at the dance floor, so I did the same.

“What the hell is this place?” I asked.

“My god, why are you so kampong—you’ve really never been here before?”

When I nodded, Kelvin shook his head.

“SOS—or, as we call it, ‘SBS.’ For si beh sian—super boring! This is where people come to find the last-chance hookup for the night,” he said.

“Now is the damn happening time here lah,” he added. “At this time the atas clubs are all doing last call, so if you still haven’t found someone to pok yet, then go to SOS. This bar only closes at seven A.M.! If by seven A.M. you still haven’t found a hookup yet, then even you yourself have no choice but to admit you are a loser. Just fuck off and eat breakfast then go home. But most people confirm can find someone here. It’s just a matter of adjusting expectations.”

Even though Kelvin was talking to me, he wasn’t looking at me—he was very carefully staring at each corner of the room, squinting. I could see him making mental calculations in his head—does that girl look chio enough to lose his spot at the bar near the bartender? Or maybe there’s someone with more potential who just hasn’t shown up yet?

“Eh, Kelvin,” I said. “Now what time already—you don’t want to go home? Worst-case scenario you can always go home and pok your wife, no? Come here for what?”

“Talk cock lah,” he said, laughing a little even though his face didn’t look like he was laughing at all. “The bitch is moving out next week. She’s been having a bloody affair with her meditation therapist! Fucking lanjiao fucker. She’s moving in with that fucking California-educated hippie and all, while trying to take all my money.”

I didn’t know what to say. So I just joined Kelvin in scanning the room. Together, we leaned back against the bar, quietly, side by side, and just did a look see.

If you just walked in and didn’t know anything, you would think that SOS was damn happening. Everywhere people were cheering, bottoms-upping, dancing like crazy, hugging, air-kissing, real kissing, rubba-ing. Every single person was being damn action, as if they were having a number one time. But if you looked closely, you could see that actually, this one is all for show. Even though the mouth is smiling, the eyes are quite sad. The ones who were hooking up didn’t look tender or passionate. It was a manic desperation; the fear of being alone, of going home alone. And the only ones who didn’t have this kind of look on their faces were the small young Thai girls who, even though it was five-something in the morning, still had perfect hair and makeup and they certainly didn’t look mabuk. Calmly, they perched on bar stools or banquets, preening and scanning the crowd, occasionally getting up to circle the dance floor.

“Kelvin,” I said, “I think I’d better make a move first.”

He didn’t look at me—just nodded and kept slowly sipping his Jameson, still scanning the room.

Now I really didn’t know what else to say. So I just bottoms-up my drink and fasterly left.

When I got to the front of the hotel, I wondered what to do. Even though it was damn late, I still didn’t feel like going home. (Plus, the Dynasty Hotel taxi queue was jammed with SOS people—who looked even more desperate and drunk now that we were outside and the sky was very gradually lightening.)

So, I decided to walk along Orchard Road a little. At this time, the street was especially bright, with the streetlights still beaming down, and although it was almost six, it was actually a bit noisy since post-clubbing people were stumbling about. Slowly, I walked, passing the Crabtree & Evelyn where Imo likes to buy her atas shower gels, past the Ferragamo shop where Imo, Sher and I went to buy Fann a wallet for her birthday last year after saving up money for a few weeks. I was about to head to the bus stop when I noticed a familiar face coming toward me. Kani nah!

I stood very still, hoping that if I didn’t move, maybe I wouldn’t be noticed.

“Oi, Jazzy—following me around is it?” Seng said when he got closer. I could tell that the fucker had noticed me from far away but was trying to act cool, not even looking at me.

“You go and dream lah,” I said, blinking at him.

Seng looked at me up and down, pulled out his pack of menthols and lit one up.

“So late still haven’t gone home?” he said, staring at me coolly.

I didn’t say anything. I watched as he ran his fingers through his long fringe and swept it back. Fucker was still trying to act cool and all. He took a long drag of his ciggie, still looking at me as he slowly scratched his cheek with his long pinkie fingernail.

“How come one of your atas friends isn’t driving you home in his Rolls-Royce?” he said, blinking and looking away for a bit, then looking back. It didn’t occur to me until now that I hadn’t seen or heard from him since that night when I ditched him at Studemeyer’s. I suddenly felt bad. No matter how annoying Seng had been to show up, his heart was always in a good place. Plus, we’d been friends for so long—far longer than I’ve been with any of these fuckers I’ve been clubbing with every night.

Also, if I had been nice and stayed there instead of running off to meet Louis, maybe that evening would have turned out a lot different. Maybe a lot of things in my life would have been different if I had just seen things clearer.

I started to feel damn tired. And I guess the fucker probably thought I owed him an apology or some shit. But just when I was thinking of saying something—not apologizing, mind you, but just acknowledging that maybe he expects me to apologize—Seng said, “Aiyoh, aiyoh!” and ran over to the dustbin near the bus stop.

Next to the tall plastic dustbin there was a guy curled up on the floor.

“Oi,” Seng said, using the tip of his pointy leather shoe to poke the guy’s stomach. “Oi! Oi!”

When the guy didn’t wake up, I heard him softly say, “Kani nah.”

“Who’s that?” I asked.

“My friend lah,” he said, taking a last long puff of his ciggie and throwing it on the floor near the guy’s shoe. “We all thought the fucker went home already when he suddenly just got up and fucked off out of McDonald’s thirty minutes ago.”

Seng shook his head and exhaled slowly. I could see the smoke coming out of his nostrils as he pursed his lips, thinking, thinking.

“This lanjiao always gets this drunk,” he said, shaking his head and looking a bit worried.

Then Seng sighed, bent down and went through the guy’s pockets, taking out his iPhone and wallet. He stopped, opened the wallet and thought for a bit, then took out twenty dollars, folding the notes up nicely and carefully tucking them inside the front of his friend’s pants.

When I looked confused, Seng winked. “Taxi money,” he said, carefully putting the phone and wallet in his pockets. “Robbers won’t dare to put their hands into his underwear, even to try and steal money—haha!”

Even I had to laugh at this. As toot as this whole scene was, this actually made sense. I watched Seng dust his hands on his jeans, sigh again and clear his throat, then slowly bend down and carefully pick his friend up. They were both about the same size so Seng was having a hard time of it.

“Eh, you need any help?” I said, stepping closer.

Seng looked at me sternly. “No need, no need,” he said. “He’s really too heavy. I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

Silently, I stood there and watched as, inch by inch, Seng staggered over to a long bench under the bus stop canopy and gently laid his friend down. Buses were few and far between at that time, so the place was empty, quiet. And, this being a bus stop in Orchard Road, the benches were fairly clean. From the guy’s heaving chest, I could see he was all right. He even smacked his lips and turned on his side, his arms cradling his chest.

“Shouldn’t we send him home or something?” I said.

“No need lah—you see how bloody heavy he is?” Seng said. Which was true. His friend was not say, damn fucking fat but he also confirm was not skinny. Seng had really been staggering.

“Plus, he lives all the way up north, near the Malaysian causeway—do you know how expensive the taxi ride there and back will be?” Seng added, reaching into his pocket to pull out his ciggies, plucking one out and lighting it. “I’ll just drop off his stuff tomorrow. I want to make sure you get home soon and safe, Ah Huay. Now what time already? Your mum is really going to worry if you’re out much later.”

I stood there for a moment, looking down at the guy, still curled up. A ring of cigarette butts and crumpled tissue paper made a halo around his bench. Fucker was even smiling a bit.

“Come,” Seng said, holding out his free hand. “Let me send you home.”

I had to think for a moment. Was this it?

“Actually,” I said, “I’m waiting for someone.”

I could see Seng’s upper lip curl. He rolled his eyes and said, “Your choice.” Then he threw up his hands and walked away.

Alone—really alone, it felt—I wondered what to do next. Next to the bus stop, there was a hive of bright lights and noise—McDonald’s. I tell you, at this time of night, McDonald’s is the most happening place in town. Post-clubbing hours are a big moneymaking time for them. Even though guniang here didn’t want to go and eat with the Ah Bengs inside, smelling the place reminded me that tonight I didn’t have supper. If I eat something here now, it’s also not bad—chances are, nobody I know (or care about) will spot me here. And by the time I finish, I’m sure the taxi queue would be gone.

I was standing outside looking in, considering, when I noticed the face looking back at me in the glass. After such a long night out, my hair had deflated; long strings of it were whipped haphazardly around my face. My lipstick was mostly gone, chewed off; the mascara was still in place, though I looked a little like a raccoon from the smudges under my eyes. I missed Sher, who always carried around makeup remover towelettes in her handbag and would drag me to the loo when she thought I needed a touch-up. Where was Sher tonight? Sher always knew the right thing to do. Always. She may have married an Ah Beng, but, I realized, at least this was an Ah Beng who was there sleeping by her side at this very moment—maybe even spooning.

Sher had popped by the office one day this week to take me out to lunch. It was a quick one, but sweet. She told me all the toot stories of her Ah Beng honeymoon and I realized I hadn’t laughed that much in months—yes, even if some of it was laughing at her precious Ah Huat. Sher was good-natured about it all. I got the sense that she knew what he was and what he wasn’t and she was just A-OK with it. I guess there really was nothing left for me to say on the subject at the end of the day. Sher had even hugged me super tightly as she left, asking me once again if I would consider helping Ah Huat at work. “As if!” I had said. Sher just smiled and shrugged as she left.

The lights inside McDonald’s were so bright I couldn’t see my skin clearly, but from how papery it felt, I knew it was sallow. I suddenly heard my mum’s voice in my head: “A young girl’s face is her jewel, Ah Huay—take good care of it. Get lots of rest, eat healthily, don’t go out so late. The fire in your body increases the later you are up—if you’re up too late, the fire will burn you up. Listen to your, Ma—please.”

My mum, perhaps, was right all along.

The sky was a pale pinkish blue now; the sun wasn’t too far behind. The gigantic shopping malls that lined Orchard Road were towering black blocks against this rapidly lightening canvas. I could barely make out the Prada store sign just across the street.

Something about this dawn was reassuring, even if all around me was an army of mascara-streaked dolls staggering about, occasionally breaking into scuffles whenever a taxicab trundled by. I saw what I should have known all along. I didn’t need Seng, or Kelvin, or Louis and most certainly not Roy—not to send me home or fuck me or even to marry me. I didn’t need Sean or Albert. And thank god I didn’t need Alistair.

I may not know the future but I do know myself. I am Jazzy—and Jazzy doesn’t lose! I realized then that I had actually made my decision sometime before, even though I hadn’t wanted to admit it.

Taking my phone out, I started typing. “Sher,” I said. “OK lah. You can tell your Ah Huat—yes.”