Some of the girls weren’t, well, exactly pretty. It was remarkable what a little darkness and lighting could do; wanting to be laid also helped. There was nothing like a surfeit of raging hormones coupled with the relaxing effect of bad alcohol to make every girl a real doll.
George saw a call girl to his liking. She was built on the big side which was probably why she wasn’t as busy as her companions. She eyed George and she knew a sucker when she saw one.
‘Whoa up, Neddy,’ George said.
‘You bastard,’ Turei answered. ‘She looks like Emma!’
‘What can I say? Your sister has ruined skinny women for me —’
George approached the girl and chatted to her. She showed the stamp in her health card, indicating she’d had a check-up.
‘You know another two girls for my friends?’ George asked.
The girl put two fingers in her mouth and whistled — and she was soon negotiating with other bar girls who had come running at her signal.
‘All the girls are ready,’ the girl said, ‘just for you Kiwis.’
The three girls dragged the boys into the LOVE FOR YOU HERE BAR, just across the street. Very soon they were in separate cubicles with a girl in each. In deference to Sam’s rank, George gave him the prettiest one, he held on to the big one and Turei had the third. Sam’s girl had him climaxing in seconds.
‘Wah,’ the bar girl smiled, ‘you’ve been waiting a long time for that, eh, soldier boy!’
Half an hour later, Sam made his way down the stairs. The bar was so crowded and filled with smoke and soldiers that he didn’t see Turei until he bumped into him.
‘Yo, bro!’ Turei grinned. ‘Is the Sarge a happy chappie?’
Sam smiled and nodded. ‘So where’s George?’
‘Still upstairs, the bastard,’ Turei said. ‘But I’m going to have his arse. Look at this —’ Turei had been in negotiation with the bar owner and had bought a glass of evil-looking wine.
‘What is it?’ Sam asked.
The bar owner thought Sam was interested. He showed him a small barrel filled with clear liquid. Coiled in the liquid were several fat snakes, a metre long, with brown backs and bellies striped cream and black.
‘Snake wine of course,’ the bar owner said. ‘Makes your manly weapon big and strong. And after you drink wine you eat snake. No good if manly weapon big and strong but does not go all night long. You want some?’
‘No thanks,’ Sam said.
At that moment George joined them. ‘Oh, mateys, I need a drink.’
Sam saw the gleam in Turei’s eye. ‘This is not a good idea,’ he whispered. George hated snakes. But:
‘I’ll get you the house special,’ Turei said, his eyes mischievous. He signalled to the bar owner and pointed to the barrel. ‘Hey, bring us some of your special wine! My pal wants to have a drink.’
The bar owner filled a glass with the snake wine, and George swallowed it down in a second.
‘What’s it taste like?’ Turei asked.
‘Isn’t it what you guys are having? Isn’t it home-made vodka?’ George asked. He downed another glass.
Turei gave Sam an evil wink.
‘While we’re here, we may as well eat,’ he said.
Sam went to warn George but Turei kicked him in the shins.
‘It’s on me,’ Turei said.
He ushered George away to a table so that he couldn’t see the bar owner taking one of the fat brown snakes from the barrel.
Five minutes later, the bar owner placed a plate in front of George. On it lay chopped chunks of meat, brown on top and striped cream and black underneath, fried and doused in a thick sauce.
‘Aren’t you guys eating?’ George asked.
‘We’ve eaten,’ Turei replied quickly.
‘You sure you don’t want any more? This steak is great.’
‘Er, no thanks.’
Sam watched with a queasy stomach as George ate and drank.
‘You like?’ the bar owner asked. ‘You want more?’
‘Yeah, sure,’ George answered.
The bar owner brought the barrel to the table. Turei started to shake with mirth. The bar owner picked up two snakes.
‘Which one? Brown? Or striped?’
‘Oh, you bastard,’ George said to Turei as he threw up.
By ten, the whole of the red-light district was going up like a rocket. George and Turei were half drunk and singing ‘Ten Guitars’ and Sam was in the middle, holding both of them up. They joined up with some other Kiwis and headed for MADAME GODZILLA’S. The place was really jumping. There, after a tussle with some Aussies, including the red-headed guy who’d been eyeballing Turei ever since arriving in Vietnam, they scored a table.
‘You and me, Hori,’ the red-head said, ‘one day we’ll have a go one on one together.’
‘Any time, any place,’ Turei replied.
All of a sudden, through the haze, Sam saw Cliff Harper with his chopper colleague, Fox. They were coming with some girls from the back room. As they pushed aside the beaded curtain and returned to the bar, they were greeted with whistles and grunting noises. Laughing, Fox slapped Harper on the back and made him the focus of the applause. Harper grinned.
Some pretty hot sex had been going on in the back room. Even now, two of the girls were fighting for Harper’s attention. Good-humouredly, he put up his hands: ‘No, ladies, I’ll call it a night.’
The girls were persistent. There was a firm glint in Harper’s eyes as he tried to underline his answer.
‘Then perhaps you want to dance?’
Harper was diplomatic. But after a while, as more girls pressed in on him, frustration showed in his face. He’d had his sex and now he wanted to drink with his pals. And then Sam saw Harper’s fingers moving in a strange way.
Get out of my face, willya?
Sam was taken aback. Harper was signing, in the language normally used among the deaf. Luckily for Harper, some of his chopper mates were willing to take charge of the girls, who flowed away from him as he slumped down in his chair and put his head in his hands. His fingers moved again in sign.
God, Johnny, I’m so bored.
Harper took a swig of his beer. He looked disinterestedly around the bar. Across the room he saw Sam; he squinted his eyes just to make sure, and smiled. He was just about to look away when, impishly, Sam moved his fingers.
Who’s Johnny?
Beer sprayed from Harper’s mouth. He put his glass down in astonishment.
You can read me?
Didn’t you know? Sign language, like basketball, is a Maori tradition.
Harper started to grin.
Now let me guess. I suppose you were taught it by Mormon missionaries?
You got it. Are you with friends?
Yes. You too?
There was a sudden increase in the noise and smoke. Harper gestured helplessly and then made jabbing motions.
The noise in here is too loud. Meet me outside. I wanna talk.
Sam nodded. He grabbed his beer and told George he was going for some air. He pushed and shoved through the crowd, getting love pats all the way, and finally broke free into the street. He watched as Harper extricated himself from his friends and joined him. For a moment the two men stood there, looking at the stars. It didn’t feel awkward. It felt right not to talk. It felt good just to be. Sometimes there was no need to fill the air with words.