The Trafficked

58

Becky left the foot spa and walked down the beach. It was as dark as midnight and the stars were out. She checked her phone-still no text from Mann. She stopped at the first bar she came to where she liked the music-‘Hotel California’ by the Eagles. The Flamingo beach bar was open on all sides. It had a few life-size plastic flamingos peeping out of plant pots at its corners and what looked like leftover Christmas lights across its palm-thatch roof. It was the local drinking hole for all those from the PADI diving school. On the beach end of the bar there were stacks of diving equipment and rinsed, dripping-wet wetsuits draped over a rail pushed into the sand. The men and women sat in their board shorts and swimwear, recounting the day’s thrills. Their sunny faces were alive and tanned but their lean and muscled bodies were white from lack of sun.

Becky sat at a stool at the bar. The news about Rosario’s daughters and the added information from Shrimp had made her adrenalin start racing. She knew now that Fat Harry and English Bob weren’t just hangers-on, or cashers-in, they were an integral part of the new trafficking ring.

She checked her phone. She had a voicemail message. She dialled and listened. A group of leering Brits began edging towards her but she stopped them with a look. A lonely, liver-lipped old American tried to tell her his life story but soon retreated back into the shadows. She pressed the phone to her ear and listened to the un familiar voice.

‘My name is Suzanne. I want you to know that I havebeen having an affair with your husband Lenny for ayear.’

Becky ordered a margarita and drank the first one fast. She ordered another and drank it faster. She stared at her phone. What was that about? Suzanne? She had no idea who this Suzanne and Lenny were.

‘Mrs Black? May I join you?’ A man’s voice interrupted her thoughts. She was about to bite his head off when she saw who it was. ‘Can I call you Emma?’ The man with the ponytail appeared beside her. ‘Sorry, I missed you and your husband at the hotel. I’m the owner. My name is Bob English.’ His voice was raspy from years as a heavy smoker. His accent still had a hint of northern to it, but it was a clash of styles and adopted accents. He smiled at Becky.

‘Of course.’ Becky nodded and smiled sweetly. ‘Please sit. Nice to meet you. You have a great hotel.’

She shook his hand, repressing the urge to wipe hers afterwards. He had smoker’s fingers and a deeply lined face from the sun. Inside his open shirt his white chest hair looked albino against his tanned chest. His body appeared almost emaciated. He ordered a scotch and soda and another margarita for Becky.

‘How do you like it here? Is the hotel matching up to your expectations? If there is anything you need…’

Becky held up both hands and rolled her eyes skyward.

‘The place couldn’t be more perfect, thank you. It’s such a welcoming place. It’s amazingly friendly here.’

‘They are a happy nation, aren’t they?’ English Bob grinned. He obviously didn’t trust dentists; he had terrible teeth, uneven, broken and yellowed like a horse’s. Becky looked long and hard at English Bob-she felt a huge shiver of repulsion. He was as hideous inside as he was out.

A group of giggling teenage girls passed by along the beach. He took his time studying them. He watched them leisurely, lingeringly, like a lover would.

‘That’s what I love about them.’ He snapped back to her and picked up his drink. ‘No matter what happens to them in life, they are always such happy, positive people-foolishly optimistic in a way.’ He picked up his scotch and licked his lips as if it burned. She looked at him curiously. ‘Oh yes, they allow themselves to be taken advantage of. They practically rely on it. A very naive nation, loving, trusting. Even the bar girls-sorry-the guest relation officers…’ He winked conspiratorially. ‘These girls really believe that someone loves them, even if it’s just for a night. They dream of a foolish western guy falling in love and marrying them. It’s not a business to them.’ He laughed, loud and cynical. ‘It’s not a business to them like it is to the girls in Hong Kong or in Thailand-here it’s a vocation. Ha ha…’

Becky smiled politely and waited for him to stop laughing at his own joke. ‘They must be easy to take advantage of,’ she said, signalling to the barman that she would like another margarita.

‘They are a very physical people.’ English Bob steadied his gaze and locked her eyes to his. ‘You can’t apply the same rules as we do back home. You wouldn’t dream of having sex with a thirteen-year-old back home-here, it’s different.’

‘Really? You think they develop differently?’

‘Yes, that’s it. They are much more…sexualised.’

‘Is that due to the sex tourism?’

‘Oh no. It has been like that for ever. Most of it starts in their own home. People feel sorry for the bar girls. Let me tell you-it’s far preferable to cutting cane.’

‘Of course-now I get it!’ she said, trying to hide the sarcasm from her voice. She wondered whether he could be any more loathsome.

‘Yes! I used to feel sorry for them myself. But then I married one of them. Now I have half a dozen of the little smilers running around. So I’m never sure who took advantage of who.’

‘How lovely-a family man!’

‘Wouldn’t swap it for anything. It’s a great life, I’m sure. What about yourself? You been married long?’

‘We are on our honeymoon. So far, so good.’

‘Ha…’ He made ready to go. ‘The honeymoon period…Make the most of it, and when you discover he’s been cheating, come and see me. I have a very sympathetic side.’ He grinned at Becky. His eyes went liquid, his lips went wet. ‘And let me know if you need another foot massage. I’ll do it myself, happily.’ He backed away grinning, then his lecherous eyes turned hard and he glared at her. ‘And if you need to ask any more questions about local matters, things that only concern the people who live here, you come and see me. You can ask me as many questions as you want. You have to watch who you talk to round here…’ He stood up. ‘…loose tongues and all that.’ And, with that, English Bob disappeared up the lane.