“What the hell?” Tommy said. He was standing in the doorway, his shirt not completely buttoned. “Is that what I think it is?”
I looked at him, my face blank. “You tell me.”
“That’s not mine, if that’s what you’re thinking. Probably one of the girls’,” he said. “I’ll bring them back here a couple at a time and we’ll find out.”
He started to leave, but I stopped him with a forceful “Wait.” Once he was looking at me, I said, “Come in and shut the door.”
I don’t know why he didn’t just run. That’s probably what he was planning to do when he said he was going to round up the girls. But instead, he did as I told him, then took the seat across from me.
“You have a better plan?” he asked. There was still a hope that I hadn’t guessed the truth in his voice.
“Yeah.” I stared at him silently for several seconds. “This is what’s going to happen,” I said, keeping my voice level and unemotional. “You’re going to give me your key to The Lounge, then you are going to get up and walk out. You’re not going to talk to anyone. You’re not going to even look at anyone. And, most importantly, you’re never going to come back here. Understand?”
“But it’s not my-”
“Bullshit! Don’t even fuck with me, Tommy. It’s yours and we both know it. I told you the rules when I took over as bar manager. Rule number one: no drugs.” I waited a moment to see if he would continue to protest, but he said nothing. “Give me your key.”
He hesitated a moment, then pulled a set of keys from his pocket, removed one and handed it to me. There was a moment of awkward silence, then he stood up.
“I’m sorry, Jay. You’re right. I fucked up.” He paused, then said, “But I’m not the only one fucking up around here.”
He started to put his hand out so we could shake, thought better of it, and left. I followed him out, making sure he didn’t talk to anyone on his way to the front door.
As soon as he was gone, a few of the girls came over to ask if something was up. I told them everything was fine. They seemed dubious, but once they returned to the fold there were no obvious signs of problems.
Over the next few days, I began to wonder if I had done the right thing. Maybe it had been an isolated event, and I’d been too harsh on him. It was the life, after all. Things happened, people made mistakes. In our fantasy existence, mistakes were often overlooked, and bad habits encouraged.
Then I found out it had been more than just the drugs. Tommy had been skimming from the receipts. I couldn’t tell how much was missing, and I would never be able to prove it, but there was no mistaking that money was missing. I knew I should have noticed it earlier, but I hadn’t. It made me wonder what else I had overlooked.
Tommy was right-he wasn’t the only one fucking up around there.
Larry and Isabel spent Christmas in Manila. He had reserved a room in the one of the best hotels in town, the Makati Shangri-La Hotel. They never left the building the entire time they were there.
Isabel said it reminded her in many ways of that first trip to Boracay. They were like two people in love for the first time. They ate breakfast in bed, went for a swim every day, and made love every afternoon before the sun went down. Dinner was in the Shang Palace, a four-star restaurant on the second level. Then it was back to the room where they’d watch a movie on TV, hold each other, make love again and eventually fall asleep in each other’s arms. There was no Angeles, no go-go bars, no obnoxious customers.
“And no Mariella,” I said.
Isabel was silent for a moment. It was late, well after midnight. We were sitting by the pool at my hotel. No one else was around, just two old friends remembering other times. In some ways, better times, in other ways, not.
“Right,” she said eventually. “No Mariella.”
“Why did you stay with her?” I asked.
“It was better than going back to where I was living before,” she said, though without much enthusiasm.
Physically, it might have been better, I thought. Mentally, I wasn’t so sure.
“Why didn’t you leave Angeles after Cathy left you?” she asked
I looked away, toward the ocean. “I don’t know.”
“Same for me,” she said.
When I looked back at her, she was holding her empty wine glass in both hands, staring at it absently, a waning smile on her face.
“Would you like some more?” I asked.
“What?” She looked up, realized what she’d been doing and put the glass down. “No. No more.”
“Do you want to go to bed?” I asked.
“Do you?”
“No.”
We sat quietly for several minutes listening to the ocean, lost in our thoughts. At some point she reached over and put her hand over mine.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” she said.
I looked over, brow furrowed. “Who?”
“Cathy. She got out,” she said, then more distantly added, “She was lucky.”
I almost laughed in surprise. Though she was right-I was thinking about Cathy-my thoughts were no longer of what could have been, but merely of one friend worrying about another, and hoping she was happy.
“What were you thinking about?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she said quickly. There was a pause, then, “Nothing at all.”
The silence returned, this time stretching out for almost five minutes. But we were getting closer to the end, closer to the things I’d come to find out. So finally I said, “Tell me about when you came back to Angeles.”
A single tear welled in the corner of her eye, but somehow she refused to let it fall.
“We came back two days after Christmas. I wanted to stay in Manila longer. I don’t know why, but Larry wanted to return to Angeles…”
They returned to the Las Palmas Hotel, and though they both would have liked to stay in Manila longer, I knew that Larry was watching his expenses. His business back home was growing, but he told me that cash flow was tight. Staying at the Las Palmas Hotel was a hell of a lot cheaper than staying at the Makati Shangri-La. In another six months, he had said, he’d be doing really well. And in another year, he figured he could afford a full month at the Shangri-La without even worrying about it.
I don’t know why he never told Isabel this. Pride, I guess, but she wouldn’t have cared. In fact, she probably would have been happy to help him save every penny.
It wasn’t long after their return that Mariella showed up again, this time “accidentally” running into them while they were having breakfast at The Pit Stop the morning after they got back.
“Hi,” she said, drawing the word out so it sounded like she was almost singing it. “Larry, so good to see you.”
She leaned down and gave Larry a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I wondered what happened to Isabel until someone told me you were back in town,” she said. “What a surprise.” She smiled at Isabel. “What a nice Christmas present for you, di ba?”
“Yes,” Isabel said, her own smile slightly strained.
“Where are you staying? The Las Palmas again?” Mariella asked.
“Yes,” Larry said.
“That’s great, that’s great.”
“We’re just about to have breakfast. Would you like to join us?” Larry asked.
Isabel cringed inwardly.
“Oh, I wish I could,” Mariella said, “but I am meeting some friends. We’re going to the mall in San Fernando. Have you been?”
“Once,” Larry said.
“Would you like to come with us?”
Larry smiled. “I think we’re just going to take it easy today.”
“No problem, no problem. You have a fun day, okay?” She leaned in and kissed the air a few inches above her cousin’s cheek. “Next time tell me when you’re going away. You had me scared.”
“I will.”
“Okay. I have to go,” Mariella said. “I’ll see you later.” When she was only a few feet away, she looked back. “It’s really good to see you again, Larry.”