The Expat Diaries: Misfortune Cookie (Single in the City Book 2) (10 page)

‘Really? Not even him?’ She gestures to a group of young men eyeing her up like she’s the last pudding on the fat farm buffet.

‘They’re interested in you, Stace, not me. Oh look, one’s breaking away from the pack. He’s coming over. Bold move.’ He has the swagger of the smug, which reminds me of something Laughing Gas Rachel told me. She said the women here aren’t backwards about being forward. She made it sound like they’re not above hog-tying a man and dragging him back to their place. I object to this, not because it’s unladylike, but because it artificially inflates a man’s ego. A guy with a dinky winky is king among the eunuchs. Meanwhile we fight each other for the pleasure of mediocrity. It’s unfair.

‘Hello ladies. Having a good evening?’ he says, staring at Stacy.

‘Great, thanks,’ she says. ‘I’m catching up with my friend. It’s been a long day. Enjoy your night!’ Somehow she manages to sound dismissive and friendly at the same time. She’s a master. I always overshoot the mark when I try the same thing. Either the guy latches on like a tick or runs away to tell his friends about the bitch he just met. Candy-coated rejection is a real balancing act.

‘Stace,’ I say when he’s left. ‘He was cute. Didn’t you want to talk to him?’

‘Nah, there’s plenty of time for that. I’m here with you. We’re celebrating. That’s more important.’

This is a True Friend. Capital T capital F. She’d never leave me alone on my first night to go to The Peak with her boyfriend. I wonder if I’ll feel guilty about that for the rest of our lives. Knowing me, it’s possible. After all, I did just treat us to a guilt-induced foot massage. ‘How do your feet feel?’ I ask her. It wasn’t the pampering experience I was expecting. It’s a bit hard to relax with a four-and-a-half-foot harridan of Hulk-like strength working her knuckles into the tender parts of your feet in an effort to draw blood. Every time I grimaced, she chuckled, gripped harder and stabbed again with her steely digits.

‘Like I’ve run a marathon,’ she admits, wincing.

‘Maybe it gets better once you get used to it.’ I did notice the man next to me sleeping while the masseuse did her best to break his toes.

‘They say that about a lot of things. Like anal sex, or a bikini wax,’ she muses.

‘Did you get a bikini wax?!’ As best friends of course we’ve shared our views about anything going up the back stairs, but we’ve been daring each other to get bikini waxes for years. We’ve been put off at the thought of having our pubic hair torn out by a stranger earning minimum wage.

‘Only for the last two months!’ She snorts, looking like she’s just confessed to a secret, torrid and very satisfying affair.

‘Get outta here! Did it–’ I lower my voice. Stacy won’t thank me for discussing her lady parts in front of Hong Kong’s eligibles. ‘Did it hurt?’

‘Not as much as you’d think, actually. And it was incredibly fast.’

‘Ninja waxer.’

‘Exactly. Another drink?’

I love this. We’re back to normal.
This
is what I hoped for when Stacy said she’d move. I just have to figure out how to add Sam into the mix without spoiling the batch.

Chapter 6.

The phone line sounds like I’ve accidentally dialed 1956. ‘You mean you’re finished in two weeks?’ My heart’s doing the samba. In fourteen days Sam will come home to start our life together properly.

He says, ‘I can come back in two weeks.’

‘For good?’ I clarify.

‘For the weekend,’ he offers hopefully.

‘Then why did you say you had good news and that you were coming back in two weeks?!’

‘Because it
is
good news, Han. I’ll see you in two weeks. It’s not that long.’

‘I’ll say it’s not. It’s only two days.’

‘I mean till I come back. To. Visit.’ He’s speaking like I’m a child.

‘It’s fourteen long days,’ says I, the child. Our conversations lately have been fraught with confusion. We never used to misunderstand each other. It’s the distance. And it’s Li Ming’s fault. I’m not sure how, but it is. ‘How’s Li Ming?’ Funny how when I speak, green-eyed monsters come out.

‘She’s fine. But I think the project’s getting to her. It’s the long hours. They’re getting to all of us. It’s worse for her though, because she’s leading the project. She’s been very stressed. She actually even yelled at me yesterday. That’s not like her at all. She’s usually very sweet. You’ll see. She’s coming back the same weekend I am, so you’ll get to meet her.’

‘Why would I want to meet her?’

‘Because she’s my boss? And you’ve been obsessed with her since I started the assignment?’

‘I wouldn’t say I’m obsessed…’ I have a healthy interest in the woman my boyfriend is spending every waking hour with. That’s not obsessive. It’s prudent.

He chuckles. ‘Come on, Han. You asked me to take her picture the other day. Isn’t that obsessive?’

‘Well, I just… I… I’m simply curious about your colleagues. That’s perfectly natural.’

Yeah, perfectly natural for a freaky weirdo. I am obsessive, but only because I’m so in love with him. Of course I’m terrified of losing something this incredible. Who wouldn’t be?

‘You haven’t asked for stats on the rest of the team,’ he points out.

‘I’m starting at the top?’ I know I sound ridiculous. Sam knows it too, which is why he’s turned my admittedly odd request into a joke. Otherwise he’d have to face the fact that he’s dating a psychopath. ‘Oh Sam, I know I sound crazy. It’s just hard being apart. It’s making me insecure.’

‘You’ve got nothing to worry about, Han. I keep telling you that. Li Ming is only interested in me as far as my job is concerned. She’s not a threat. She’s really sweet and nice, that’s all. And this isn’t forever, you know. The assignment should be finished in a couple of months. Then I’ll be back with you. Trust me, the time will go quickly. It probably already has, with your job, and searching for the new apartment. How was your day today?’

I know he’s just trying to sound as normal as possible, as if we
were
able to see each other without the use of aerodynamics. ‘I don’t think Mrs. Reese and I are going to become best friends,’ I tell him. ‘And thank you so much again for the flowers. They were the perfect way to end my first day. I’m looking at them now.’ In reality they’re about twenty-four hours away from self-composting but I can’t bring myself to throw them away. Every time I’ve seen them this last week they’ve reminded me that Sam is thinking of me.

‘Well, hang in there, Han. Josh likes you, and he’s your boss, not the old bat. I’ve been thinking about your job, you know, and how diligent you’ve been to find it. I know it wasn’t easy… you’re really a strong woman, Han, you know that? I admire you. I guess I have since your party in London. Even if you did have a death theme for someone with terminal cancer.’ He snorts at the memory. ‘You really worked hard to make a success of that job, in spite of Felicity. You’re gonna be great at the job, I know you will. And I’ll be back in just a couple months for good. Think how nice that will be, living in the same city. We’ll go on dates as much as you want. We’ll make spectacles of ourselves. And it’ll just be a few more months.’

‘Promise?’ Too late to take the word back. I hate sounding so needy. ‘I mean, that’ll be great. Goodnight, sweetheart, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’

Just as I hang up, Stacy crashes through the door, laden with grocery bags. ‘Here.’ She hands me a card. ‘It looks like it’s from your parents. How’s Sam?’ She’s ever alert for his transgressions to justify his suspected rat-hood.

‘He’s good. He’ll be back the weekend after next.’

‘For good?! That’s great news. Finally.’

‘No, just for the weekend.’

‘Oh. Well, I guess that’s something. Nice of him to visit at least.’ She frowns. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Oh yeah, I’m fine.’ I grin. ‘Great! It’ll just be for a few more months. Then he’ll be back for good. And he’s doing really well in his job, so this assignment is excellent.’ I sound like an eighth-grade cheerleader but I just can’t bring myself to tell her how I’m really feeling. I don’t want to risk another I’m-worried-about-you talk like we had her first night here. I
want
my confidence in Sam to be unshakeable, not to have evil little whispers in my ear making me doubt him. Sometimes friends don’t realize the power of their words.

‘Oh, good lord.’ I’ve just opened Mom’s card. It reads: ‘Enjoy your freedom. You deserve it.’ I show Stacy. ‘She’s subtle.’ I tuck the card back in the envelope.

‘Well, Han, you should enjoy your freedom. I’ve told you that.’

‘Or, even better, I could enjoy the fact that my boyfriend is coming in two weeks. Anyway, thanks for going to the store without me. What’s the milk situation?’

She sighs under the weight of Hong Kong’s dairy peculiarities. ‘Okay. Remember the blue one that tasted funny? I think it was soy milk. I just checked and it was in a different section from this one.’ She brandishes a carton with a cow on it. ‘Plus, as you can see, it has a cow, so it has to be regular milk, right? Want to taste?’

‘After the last one? Let’s do it together.’ Milk doesn’t taste like milk here. And the surprise to the taste buds isn’t a pleasant I-was-expecting-milk-but-got-cupcakes sensation either. Bread doesn’t taste like bread, either, but at least it only tastes of Styrofoam.

Hong Kong’s food stores are truly an adventure in foreign palates. Pushing my miniscule cart through narrow aisles, I didn’t even recognize everyday foodstuffs. Anyone who’s had a self-catering holiday abroad knows the disorientating feeling of staring blankly at rows of boxes or bags without having the faintest idea what they are. Sometimes there are helpful drawings, but they’re mostly a mystery. Might be sugar, might be flour. It’s not a mistake you want to make as you stir your morning coffee.

Our supermarket has more varieties of rice than I’d ever imagined possible, yet there’s virtually no cheese. And the milk, well, I spent a long time staring at cartons labelled ‘milk beverage’ or ‘milk drink’ with lots of Chinese lettering. So far we’ve failed to find milk that tastes like it came from a cow.

‘Those flowers reek, Hannah. You’ve got to get rid of them. Seriously, I’ll buy you new ones. Oh, by the way, Chloe called yesterday. Sorry, I forgot to tell you. It’s on the machine.’

‘Thanks.’ It’s not the first time Stacy
forgot
to tell me about Chloe’s calls, but I don’t want to fight over it. I guess there are some things we both gloss over. ‘Have I got time to call her now?’

‘Not really. The guys said it’ll take a while to get to the Buddha. We can take the MTR to Lantau, but then there’s a bus. We’re meeting them in half an hour in Central.’

By ‘the guys’ she means her colleague Stuart and his identical twin brother Brent. In just the few weeks since they met, Stuart has already become Stacy’s favorite work playmate. I met them a couple days ago and they are just as nice and fun as Stacy said. Being ginger, neither sibling holds any romantic potential whatsoever, so they’re in the running to become our safe best friends. That means there’s no risk that they’ll suddenly come down with a case of the wish-I-could-kiss-yous.

Within two hours we’re on a hilly Lantau road with our fates in the hands of a bus driver who thinks he’s driving for Team Ferrari. To be fair, he’d have more time for the road if his pesky mobile didn’t demand all his attention. We had a little fright when its ring sent him diving into the bag wedged under the brake pedal, but the damage from sideswiping that lorry wasn’t too bad. This is one of those bigger-vehicle-bigger-headline situations. There are at least fifty victims on the bus. It catches air as we crest another hill. Stacy has even stopped talking. ‘Isn’t he going to slow down?’ she finally entreats.

‘He must know what he’s doing,’ Brent reasons, in a rather bouncy Somerset accent that sounds as if his words are on elastic bands. ‘He drives this route all day.’ He’s seated nonchalantly while I dig the stuffing out of the seat back with my fingernails.

‘That’s not an established fact,’ I say. ‘How do you know this isn’t his first day?’

‘Is he driving like it’s his first day?’ Stuart thinks he’s joking but since he’s brought it up...

‘He’s driving like it’s his first day behind the wheel. Any wheel. Plus, there’s construction. Look, it’s only one lane.’ Concrete barriers divide the already narrow road, protecting the digging equipment from maniacal bus drivers. A well-used guardrail runs alongside the edge of the road and a temporary stop light signals the entrance to this slalom course. The light is red. The bus carries on. Clouds float level with the guardrail.

‘Did he just run the light?’ Even Brent looks a little nervous now.

‘I think he did.’

‘Maybe the light doesn’t work.’

‘Or maybe it does, and there’s a bus coming the other way.’

We all squint into the hazy distance, but the hairpin turns make it impossible to see more than a couple of hundred yards.

Kapunk! Something bounces off the side of the bus. Or, more accurately, the bus bounces off the side of something, ricocheting from the barrier towards the guardrail, and the abyss beyond, while the less continent passengers soil themselves. ‘Yeeaahh!’