I was anxious to return to Kaiya Waiya. I missed my friends and couldn't wait to visit Narayan in the hospital. I fantasized about him lying there helpless and bruised. I planned to sit by his bed, hold his hand, and gloat. I'd bring him the same kind of flower he'd left me in the powdered milk container, and I'd tape it to his cast. Oo, oo, this would be good!
Gleefully, I flew back to Bali.
"Cleo! Hunky dory!" greeted Monica. "Welcome back."
Laura waved from the pool, where she was giving baby Anjuna a donk.
I tore off my clothes and dove in the water. Coming to the surface, I leaned my arms on the edge of the pool and asked nonchalantly, "Anything happen while I was away?"
"No," answered a recently arrived Goa Freak. "A few good parties, that's all."
SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! That meant Narayan was not in the hospital. He hadn't had his legs and arms broken. The bastard was on the loose, as healthy as ever. SHIT!
"Oh, yes—Jimmy sent someone from Bangkok to help get Elame out of jail," added Monica.
That afternoon, I rode to the motorbike place to seek Huge Oriental. Not only was I furious that Narayan was still in one piece, I also felt Huge Oriental had cheated me out of my money. I didn't think it wise to confront him too harshly, though. One shouldn't yell at a gangster.
"No see, many days already," said Huge Oriental as I stepped around a pile of tires and entered the Shop. "You were away?"
"I went to Java for a visa."
"It is pleasant there?"
I nodded, then blurted, "You didn't get someone to take care of Narayan for me." Huge Oriental shook his head. Now what? I couldn't interrogate the bouncer-type on his non-compliance. "Well . . . then . . . just keep the money as rent for my bike. It'll cover the fee for a month, okay?"
"You want it that way? Okay."
I drove off miserable that Narayan was unharmed, but at least I no longer felt I'd blown the money. Some gangster!
On the way back, I stopped in Kuta Beach for a dorian milkshake and bought a Balinese oil painting, which the man packed in a bamboo holder. Then I went to the beach and sat on the sand amid Australian tourists. Look at that—they all wore bathing suits!
The longer I sat, the angrier I grew over Narayan. I needed revenge. Could NOT let him get away with throwing my dope in the ocean, but I couldn't think of anything. What to do? What? What?
Anger brewed and brewed. I had to do SOMETHING.
Idea! I'd go to Narayan and hash him on the head. If I killed him good. What could I use to hit him? I felt the bamboo package. It wasn't very hard, but I'd use it if I couldn't find anything better lying around Narayan's room. I jumped up, marched to the bike, and took off with determination.
As I neared Narayan's place, I talked myself into looking relaxed and cool. I had to visit him like a friend. If he suspected anything, he'd be on guard. I'd have to be nice to him until he turned his back. And then WHAM!
I turned off the road onto the sand path leading to his compound. It was difficult to drive on the soft ground, and the bike kept sliding and getting stuck. I parked it fifty yards from the house, giving up on driving closer. Walking from there, I tried to rid myself of burning anger. Calm. Calm. Be calm. I must be calm and cool. Win him over. He mustn't suspect.
There he was. I saw him sitting on the porch. Smile. I must smile. The smile wouldn't work. I felt it go crooked on my face.
"Well, well," Narayan said with boast in his voice. "Look who's here. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"
I lost it. I couldn't smile. Couldn't do it. Couldn't. I wanted to strangle him. Something stung my foot, but the pain couldn't pierce the rage. I looked down. It was the goddamn goose. I ignored it.
"Well, it's always nice to see you," Narayan continued. "Can I offer you tea or are you here for some other purpose? I must say I'm surprised."
My brain clogged.
"Come inside," he said.
I followed him into the house.
He smirked at me. "Are you getting enough dope? Having a hard time scoring maybe?"
"FUCK YOU. THAT STUFF COST A LOT OF MONEY, YOU KNOW!"
"Gee. You annoyed I dumped your powder in the ocean? That's where it belongs."
No longer able to contain myself, I swung the bamboo above my head.
He easily warded off the blow and caught my wrists.
"Woo, Look at this—it's Wonder Woman!"
"LET ME GO!"
I kicked and bit and broke Loose. Close to tears, I ran out the door, down the steps, and into the trees. Narayan ran after me tauntingly. So did the goose.
"Is that why you came here? You wanted to fight me?" He laughed. "Isn't that mean. And I thought you wanted to hang out."
I almost reached the bike when he caught up. He tackled and we fell.
"STOP. LET ME GO." I screamed and fought. Soon he had me pinned on the ground. "GET OFF ME." I couldn't move. Helpless, I lay under him shrieking, "LET ME GO. LET ME GO."
A passing Balinese heard and came to investigate. As he neared, Narayan released me.
I scrambled up.
Shaking, I inserted the key in the bike. Narayan remained on the sand, watching. His laughter followed me as I sped away, tears of fury streaming down my face.
A week later, Monica gave me the news. "I'm leading on a trip," she said. "My money's running out and I have to do a run."
"Where are you going?"
"Australia."
"Hash?"
"Well, good luck. How long will you be gone?"
"Maybe a month. You'll still be here, won't you?"
"Yeah, think so. Is this your own trip?" I asked.
"No. I'm running for Narayan," she said.
NARAYAN?
Shocked, I could only watch as she opened her suitcase. Tom; could my best friend do business with my worst enemy? Where was her loyalty? Stabbed in the hack my best friend! My best friend! How could she do that to me?
I watched her fold a dress and pack it. Betrayed! She was going to Australia with Narayan! MY Narayan!
The next day she was gone.
I threw many parties over the following weeks, and at one I met Chic—a tall, thin Colorado boy with blonde hair reaching halfway down his back. He wasn't a Goa person, though; he was of the Kathmandu crowd—close cousins. He'd lived in Nepal for seven years and owned a club there, a popular Freak place. The world had few Freak communities—Goa was one, Kathmandu another. We felt related.
Chic and I spent sunny days filming movies with the eight-millimetre movie camera I'd bought in Singapore. I filmed the Goa Freaks at Kaiya Waiya. I filmed Chic's beautiful nakedness diving into the Pool. I had Chic film me on a motorbike, driving at the remarkable speed of ten miles an hour.
Chic turned me on to Balinese magic mushrooms that, unlike acid, only lasted an hour or two. You could munch a handful in the afternoon and the trip didn't kill the whole day. Sold legally in Bali, a hotel down the road listed mushroom meatballs on its menu. At one of my daytime parties, I catered from the hotel. They supplied me with turtle kebabs and a platter of meatballs. I posted a sign on the table:
MEATBALLS = I TRIP
For an hors d'oeuvre, I offered cheese spread on crackers. In the cheese I planted a pill, a combination speed and downer. In my mind I imagined my guests would pluck the pill, swallow it, and then eat the cracker. Unfortunately, people popped the whole thing in their mouths.
"BBBBLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!" they’d exclaim at the taste.
What a face they'd make. "No no," I'd hurry to say. "You're supposed to swallow the pill and THEN eat the cracker. Here, have some wine to wash it down."