The Expat Diaries: Misfortune Cookie (Single in the City Book 2) (8 page)

‘Wakey-wakey!’

‘Mwhuh?’ Stacy is standing over my bed with, it looks like, toast. I’ll know for sure when my eyes can focus beyond my pillow. ‘What’s this?’

‘Move over.’ She shoves me to the edge of the mattress. ‘Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Especially for our first day of work.’

Of course. It’s Monday already, and Sam’s gone back to Vietnam. Both these thoughts hit me in the gut, and neither makes that toast look appetizing. After such an amazing weekend together, finely balanced between cultural exploration (the monastery) and sexual exploration (everything else), I feel his absence more than ever. Stacy, good friend that she is, did her best last night to distract me from his departure. It worked, briefly, but oh, my head.

In her attempt to find the hotel where the eponymous hooker from
The World of Suzie Wong
plied her trade, instead we found a Mexican restaurant. That would have been fine if dinner hadn’t been mostly margaritas with a side order of food. Ay caramba!

‘What time is it?’ I ask.

‘Relax, it’s only six-thirty. We’ve got plenty of time.’

‘Yeah, like another hour before my alarm goes off. This is brutal, Stace, it was after midnight when we went to bed.’

‘Glad you appreciate the gesture, Han. You’re welcome very much. I couldn’t sleep. It must still be the jet lag. But you want to start early on your first day, don’t you? Impress the boss?’

How can she look so alert while I’ve got a hangover doing the salsa on my synapses? ‘Yeah, I guess so. Yes, definitely, what am I saying? I’ve waited all my adult life for this kind of chance. Thanks, Stace. Here, get in,’ I offer, patting the mattress. ‘You know something? I’m actually going to miss this little apartment when we find our new one. I’ve grown used to having everything in arm’s reach.’

‘Not me.’ She shakes her head, snuggling under the duvet. ‘I hate having to unpack my whole suitcase just to find something to wear.’

I scan the room, which is a cross between a jumble sale and a natural disaster site. ‘I see what you mean. Are you excited for your first day?’

She grins. ‘I can’t remember the last time I was so nervous. Honestly, I’m not even hungry.’

This could be serious. She is never not hungry. Her ravenous appetite, and willingness to indulge mine, is what keeps me from resenting her physical perfection.

‘You shouldn’t be nervous,’ I tell her. ‘You’ll be great. Your boss already thinks you’re a superstar. He made space for you to come, didn’t he? I wouldn’t worry about it.’

‘Oh I know,’ she says breezily. ‘That’s not what I’m–’ She sighs. ‘The job is the job. I can be an analyst anywhere. It’s the people I’m worried about. I loved everyone at home. We weren’t just colleagues, we were friends. Some were really good friends. What if nobody socializes after work? Or what if they do, but I hate them all? What if they’re
geeks
,’ she whispers.

‘You might love them,’ I point out.

‘I guess. It’s a stupid thing to worry about. Right?’

She sounds uncertain. Why, she
is
uncertain. Of course she is. I’ve been so focused on her arrival, so that
I
was comfortable, that I didn’t think about what she must be feeling. She’s probably going through exactly what I did when I moved to London. First time away from home, away from everyone she knows, not knowing what’s ahead, or whether she’s going to succeed or fail. It’s exciting, yes, but it’s also terrifyingly disorientating. ‘Stacy, trust me. You’re going to love them and they’ll love you, just like at home, and you’re going to be great at your job, just like at home. And you’ve got me. Just like at home.’

‘This is a huge adventure, huh?’ She crams most of a piece of toast in her mouth, ending what might be the briefest fast in history.

‘It is. That’s the best way to see it. Otherwise we’ll just scare ourselves. I’m so grateful that we’re doing it together. Thank you for coming here. It’s the best thing I can imagine.’ I’m trying to resist the urge to wrestle her into a bear hug and weepily shout, ‘I love you, man!’

‘Aw, Han, I thank you. If you hadn’t moved in the first place I’d never have done it. You have no idea how much I admire you. You’ve got balls, girl, serious cantaloupe-sized
cojones
. You realized what you wanted and you went for it and you made your life in London. That’s incredible. And now you’re doing it again. No matter what your family says, or me, you’ve made this move. That takes guts, to take that kind of risk despite… despite what everyone thinks.’

Uh-oh, here comes that bear hug.

‘Thanks. It definitely hasn’t been easy. I can deal with my parents because, well, they disapprove of most things. But your approval means a lot to me, Stace.’ I’m trying my best not to sound scoldy. ‘I made the right decision you know, to be here. I know I did, even though no one else thinks so. I’m so excited for the chance to make my life here, just like I did in London. Having you here, and Sam, is the icing on the cake. Although I wish he was here now.’

I don’t want to ask the next question, but I have to know the answer. ‘What did you think of him?’

She pauses, mopping up crumbs with a wet finger. ‘Han, I’d love to tell you that I’m one hundred per cent sure about him, and that he’s definitely the right one for you. I’m glad I got to know him a little better over the weekend, and I do see what you see in him. He is really nice. He does truly seem to be crazy about you, and he says and does all the right things. But I can’t be completely sure about him yet. It still bothers me that you’re not living together. Hold on,’ she says to the objection forming on my lips. ‘I know that was never the plan, and it’s a new relationship. I know all that. I also know I’m not the best person to judge when it comes to love. So please don’t take my reservations as a judgment against your relationship. I’m just wary. I don’t want you to get hurt. So until I’m completely sure that Sam’s going to come good, I’m gonna watch your back.’

‘Thanks, Stace. That’s what friends are for, right?’

‘Exactly. You’d do the same for me… Who knows? Maybe I’ll fall in love with someone you hate one day and you can repay the favor.’ Her face says she’s realized what a clanger that was. ‘I don’t mean that I hate Sam. Not at all, he was quite sweet. You know what I mean.’

She’s not telling me she doesn’t trust Sam, just that she doesn’t trust him yet. I feel better. Sam was right. Our trip to the Ten Thousand Buddhas was an excellent idea. He was his usual friendly self and he definitely charmed her. Quite literally. He sneaked off to buy us little bracelets at the monk gift shop. ‘This is for you, Stacy,’ he’d said, handing her an intricately woven gold string with charms dangling from it.

She was flabbergasted. ‘For me?’

‘Yeah, to welcome you to Hong Kong. This little stone is for luck, and this one here, this is for prosperity, and this is for wisdom. And the little jade butterfly, that’s for love. I hope you’ll love it here.’ Shyly he kissed her cheek.

‘I don’t know what… thank you! Thank you so much, Sam. It’s so nice of you.’

‘Aw, it’s nothing really.’ In a fifties sitcom he’d have kicked the dirt and mumbled ‘shucks ma’am’ before going off for the morning milking. That’s not to say his trinket bought her undying devotion though. I did have to run interference when I came back from the loo a little later. Judging by Sam’s rather hunted look when I interrupted, I got there just in time. Stacy is always going to look out for me. That’s the kind of relationship we’ve got.

‘I know what you mean, Stace, don’t worry.’ It’s comforting to know I’m not the only one who puts her size sixes squarely in her mouth. ‘Do you want to get in the shower first or should I?’

‘You can go first. I’m going to have some more toast. Aren’t you going to eat that? I’ll have it.’ Happily she slides another piece on to her plate, pads to the kitchenette (technically she could simply stretch out an arm) to pop two more slices into the toaster. Sumo wrestlers have daintier appetites. ‘We can walk down to Central together,’ she murmurs through her buttery breakfast.

‘Are you nervous?’ she asks an hour later as we shuffle to the escalator with the rest of Hong Kong to begin our morning commute.

‘About the job?’ I say. ‘You know, I thought I would be but I’m just excited. I’m nervous about getting there though. I hope I don’t get lost.’

‘You got there for the interview,’ she points out.

‘Stace, that was a fluke. You know what my sense of direction is like.’ Columbus aimed for India and found the Bahamas. I wouldn’t have made it out of port.

‘True,’ she admits. ‘Do you want me to walk you to the station and make sure you get on the right train?’

I’m touched that she’d do this for me, if a little embarrassed that she feels she needs to. ‘No, that’s okay. I’ll have to learn to do it on my own at some– Wow, look at that!’

The escalator is heaving, exactly like London’s Underground at rush hour, except we’re hovering above street level. ‘Do we just get on?’ People are streaming onto the stairs at the platform. Some have their noses buried in books or newspapers, their feet carrying them on auto-pilot to the office. I’ve always marveled at commuters able to walk while reading. I’d concuss myself on a lamppost.

‘Dunno, I don’t see any turnstiles, do you? Is it free?’

‘I think so. The underground isn’t, but the escalator should be, don’t you think?’ It’s not like the escalator has drivers to pay. On the other hand, the people who built it might want their investment back. I did notice last week that there’s something called an MTR Fare Saver machine on the platforms. Unfortunately the instructions are all in Chinese. For all I know it’s dispensing daily astrological forecasts. If I get caught by the transport police, that’s exactly the argument I’ll use. ‘I don’t know, Stace. I guess we just get on. Ready? … Uh…’ The commuters are reluctant to let us join them. ‘Maybe we’re supposed to barge in. ’Scuse me, pardon me.’ I grab Stacy’s hand and we make a jump for it. We will not fall at the first hurdle less than ten minutes into our morning commute. Especially not when, for me, this is a long-distance race. Stacy’s office is just five minutes from the escalator in Central. Mine is deep in the New Territories, across the harbor and far away from Hong Kong side. Working for a family-run exporter will mean regular top-ups to my travel card, and probably my patience. It can’t be more frustrating than London though, where a power walker can beat your bus to work.

Hong Kong’s traffic looks little better but after only forty minutes and two wrong turns I’ve found my way back to the office that has hired me. Call me Magellan.

‘Hello?’ I shout above the traffic into the call box outside. ‘This is Hannah, I’m here to see Josh. I’m starting work today.’ The door buzzes briefly. Too briefly. ‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t quite… Can you buzz again? Please?’ My competence must really be shining through.

‘
Nee how
,’ I greet Mrs. Reese, the receptionist, when I finally get up the stairs to the top floor.

‘Hello,’ she says back, refusing to humor my scant Cantonese. She seems quite sour and bears an uncanny resemblance to Margaret Thatcher. That lacquered hair could survive a jet engine at full throttle, and her aqua blue skirt suit, complete with brooch, buttoned-up blouse and black pumps tell me she’s not one to blow with the winds of fashion. Her broad-shouldered frame is tensely still, as if anticipating attack, and she’s openly assessing me through rather beady, watery eyes. ‘Please take a seat. Josh will be out in a moment,’ she says, her voice imperious and clipped. I don’t get the feeling she’s going to head up my fan club.

Josh. My new boss. Already I love him, just for hiring me. I’ve never been what you’d class as a strong candidate. I don’t generally ‘ace’ interviews; I’m more likely to be thanked while shown to the door halfway through the allotted time. And I don’t show up very well on paper either – my CV is more pixelated than high-def. So far, my career has included:

1)
                
A once-a-week job making pizza in college. I can actually spin a paper-thin pizza crust, but have found little use for this skill in the wider world.

2)
                
A brief stint working at a turkey farm. For the record I had nothing to do with the care, feeding or eventual dispatching of the fowl. I worked at the store that sold the farm’s output. I was fired for my lackadaisical approach to pricing. I don’t think minimum wage should require my encyclopedic knowledge of every vegetable’s price per pound. The turkey people disagreed.

3)
                
A summer waitressing in a pizza restaurant. After coming home for the umpteenth time with less than ten dollars in tips, stinking of cheese, I quit. The manager was grateful for this.

4)
                
Weekly babysitting during high school, for which there is not enough money in the world.

5)
                
My first ‘proper’ job, with my first proper title that wasn’t ‘Excuse Me, Miss, Where’s My Pizza?’ As a PR junior account executive, I had the noble task of proofing my boss’s releases, and eventually even writing my own, as long as the topic was sufficiently boring to risk tears or tantrums if assigned to the higher-ups. I was fired when they outsourced my job to Hyderabad.

6)
                
My second proper job, in London. Assistant party planner to initially uptight, ultimately poisonous Felicity. Things weren’t going so badly until I was forced to blackmail her to keep her from firing me. After our showdown, the cleaning staff had more sparkling career prospects than me.

So my career was the twenty-first-century equivalent of Henry VIII’s marital record, from the wives’ point of view: graduated, fired, quit, graduated, fired, survived.

‘Welcome, Hannah.’ Josh grins as he shakes my hand. ‘Come through this way please.’ He’s a natural salesman, but not the kind who’ll peddle his grandmother. He’s the sort of person who puts you at ease right away. I knew in our interview last week that this was someone I could work for. Though after foul Felicity back in London, I’m still a bit punch-drunk. I’d now find working for the Marquis de Sade only mildly uncomfortable. My former boss started off dismissive and belittling, only to turn the dial to abusive and vengeful when I’d settled in. Who’d have thought that earning my stripes slaving for such a bitch would work in my favor?