Entry 11

[khunsanuk]

?Nobody Hears You Cry?

 

Copyright to the Author

 

Rheinhardt headed to Don Muang early to standby for the first Bangkok Airways flight out of Thailand. The previous day he?d been told that all flights were booked solid for 3 days and he wasn?t hopeful. The thought of the alternative overland journey loomed like dark thunderclouds, weighing heavily on his shoulders and saddening his heart. The Japanese squawked and clucked in their busloads at the check-in desk. There were enough of them to fill every last seat, crush into the overhead lockers and spill into the hold. His depression deepened with the thought of wasting an entire day in Don Muang to get a flight or worse, not getting one and repeating the fiasco the next day. The clock ticked slowly. The helpful Thai check-in girl had promised that she?d know for sure 10 minutes before boarding, yet as the fateful hour approached, the Japs kept on clucking. He leaned at the corner of the desk, willing car crashes, heart attacks, premature babies, lovers forgiven, smugglers busted, flat tyres, road blocks, failed alarms, drunken promises and changes of heart... anything... ANYTHING that would take him out of Thailand, away from the circus of Nanaplaza, the stinking streets, the revolting ladyboys, the soi dogs, the welcaaams and his recent obsession with hard spirits, dirty sex and dirtier women.

?Mr Rheinhardt??, she neither confirmed nor denied the availability of a seat. This was it. ?I?m sorry to have kept you waiting.?..... ~~~~GET FUCKING ON WITH IT~~~~ ?but I?m pleased to tell you that we have one spare seat? ~~~I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU~~~ ?so if you could make your way as fast as possible to the Gate, we?re boarding right now?. Rheinhardt floated through the terminal, levitated onto the plane and flew straight to Phnom Penh. An hour or so later he checked into a new hotel just off the Strip, with the haunts of the Walkabout, Shanghai and Heart of Darkness all within easy staggering distance.

 

The Scamp, or rather Mr Scamp as he laughingly insisted Rheinhardt call him if abbreviating his full name arrived a while later, also having flown in from Amsterdam via Bangkok. The Walkabout, Shanghai, Howie?s and Sharkeys followed rapidly, The Scamp determined to drink his way through the jetlag. Eventually, back at the Walkabout, things were hotting up on the babe front. Rheinhardt took a fancy to one who was quiet, compliant, brought drinks as needed and hung out whilst he and the Scamp were amused by an eloquent but sexually suspect Australian version of William Burroughs and his sweet and obliging Khmer ?bodyguard?. ?William? started to take a shine to The Scamp, who discretely asked Rheinhardt to protect his drink against Mickey Finns while he hit the bog - after all, this was Cambodia. Bill the night barman, nicknamed ?The Rash? came in. He?d lost weight and the ?Grandpa Munster look? and it turned out he?d retired and now just drank there all night without getting paid. ?I?ve cut down my drinking from 5 bottles of wine a day to 2?, he told Rheinhardt, who regretted not making his retirement do. A whore passed and The Rash stage-whispered ?great head!!? She turned, gave him the finger and an evil look. ?She loves me? The Rash smiled, totally convinced. An obvious sex-tourist, dressed in the classic wide baggy shorts and tee-shirt soaked with the sweat pouring from his head, neck, chest and back was cruising the whores, who baulked at his wandering, chubby fingers. Rheinhardt said ?Hi Buddy? to him and was answered in a lizard-like, creepily strained harsh whisper that reeked of excessive smoking, throat infection and evil intent. Contextually it sounded perfect, synergising all the darkness, suffering and potential evil one might encounter in the Penh. Enter ?The Sweat?.

 

The vodka redbulls flowed like water. The Scamp told Rheinhardt that William the suspect Aussie had intimated he was looking for a heroin mule. When the ?generous offer? was rebuffed, William dwindled, seeking the sucker he desperately needed. No doubt he?d find one - this was Cambodia and almost every cunt you could easily meet was on the run or had their angle.

 

They headed for Martinis and outside the ?The Head? a bodiless beggar who they knew from previous trip was reciting his usual ?hello, have a nice night? and extending his cap. He seemed bigger and stronger than before and the boys offered him $2 for a photo. He almost snatched their hands off. Something entrepreneurial must have clicked, because from that moment on, his repertoire changed to ?hello, have a nice night, want photo?? Inside the joint the gash seemed to be low quality and consisted mainly of long-chinned, blazing-eyed skanky skeletons so they ended up in the Heart, which was really kicking with it being Saturday night. The drink flowed far too quickly, the crack was great and almost too soon it was 5am and the boys were back in the Walkabout with a gaggle of whores. Burroughs arrived with another beautiful boy, this time Irish and clearly yet one more nothing-to-lose casualty of western life. William had either found his mule or his bitch, or both. By this time, under influence of firewater, Rheinhardt was calling the bent junkie ?William? and he was responding, albeit with caution. The boys joked that if they were stranded in Cambo with no cash, William?s junk would be target number one and the Scamp would be the sexual bait albeit at his age, they?d have to hope William would bite at the thought of a rentman, rather than a rentboy.

Rheinhardt negotiated, to the tiniest detail, the performance, actions and cost penalties for non-delivery of a double-blowjob from 2 birds, but by now it was more laughter than anything else, the whores loving the banter and the drink as refreshing respites from the darkness that drove them to the Walkabout. At 6.30am Rheinhardt split with one, leaving the Scamp in his favourite hunting environment and thinking ?now the Rash has retired, maybe he?s found his niche in life?? Back at the hotel his whore was tidy, showered up well and he liked her body. Four hours later harsh reality hammered home and she jumped up and dashed to the bathroom, leaving a single red spot where her sweet ass had been. One more paid and out the door, Rheinhardt nursed a sore head, a developing cold and cursed the drink, and fell into a fitful sleep.

 

In the morning his cold had intensified into a full-blown fever. He met the Scamp for a Chinese lunch, but the sweat was blinding him and he just went through the motions with the food. He cancelled the photoshoot date. ?Keep her waiting? he thought as he stocked up on amoxycilin and paracetamol for the long haul and hit the sack. Sleep embraced until 10pm and he belled the Scamp for a Sharkeys pitstop where they engaged a Yank in conversation. The Yank, a true expression of Cambodian detritus, dreamed about being a rock star yet lived the life of an impoverished English teacher, often surviving on $4 a day. He?d been given $100 by someone to help him get on his feet and interpreted this to mean he was to go on a sexual bender with Le Cyrcee as the first stop. And why not?... this was Cambodia. He talked of how the Penh fucked people up and how he desperately needed to get away from the resident expat yanks, their obsession with guns, ammunition and other much more dubious practices. He was heading for Bangkok within the month before he was dragged down any further. The Scamp, already love-blinded by the Penh reckoned this couldn?t happen to him if he moved there and the failure of so many to maintain their morality was simply extra evidence of his own unquestionable superiority. Rheinhardt negotiated a double-header with 2 Viets and headed off, leaving the Scamp to sample Le Cyrcee with his new buddy.

 

Another 2 hours sleep and it was 3am. Rheinhardt headed out to find the Scamp in the Walkabout. Sure enough, he was there in deep banter with some Irish and an ex-pat Yank dubbed ?the Sniff? because of his method of deciding whether or not to wear a condom. The Sniff was looking leaner, cleaner, and well-shaven, with new gear on. The English teaching job must be paying well, but his head hadn?t changed. He told a tale of woe about losing his friends in the tsunami, but had inexplicably forgotten about his long-lost mother dying just before Xmas.

Another familiar face came in, one that the Scamp had connected with previously. The Vamp had long, straight black hair and was dressed all in black. She was 40ish, had a great body and was allegedly split from her husband in Bangkok. She was back on the Walkabout prowl, this time with a Cambodian ladyboy in tow and waved a huge wad of notes. Noticeably avoided by the taxi-girls, she had an air of danger about her. Of course the Scamp was yet again unable to resist this Draculic combination and went into sniff-mode. Rheinhardt played pool with a girl who had disappeared on him yesterday or?..earlier today?...fuck knows? this was the fucking Penh where days and nights blend into one continuous drinking and whoring fuckfest. She bought him beers to say sorry for disappearing. That was a first.. hmmm!! A scummy long-haired character arrived, not catching anyone?s eye, yet eyeballing everyone shiftily, guardedly, looking like a rat peering through an dirty toilet brush. Poor cunt?.. he quickly got dubbed ?On the Rule?.

Next thing the Scamp?s getting heavy lip from some yabba-ed ex-pat whose body language spelt trouble. Some shit related to The Vamp was hitting the fan. Rheinhardt kept one eye on the situation and positioned himself discretely at the ready, pool cue in hand. There was something about the Scamp - the fuck-ups always wanted a piece of his ass, but in this instance nothing developed and the yabba-head went back to animatedly shouting at his friends, the taxi-girls, the barmen and anyone else who came within 6 feet of him. Hours later he was still wildly gesticulating at all and sundry and was yet to supply the Scamp with a reason for his rage at the Vamp. ?That?s what 12 years in the Penh does for you? laughed the Scamp as he split with the Vamp, looking like a man on a promise. Surprisingly, he arrived back less than an hour later and told Rheinhardt that they?d gone to bed for free but she refused a sexual encounter, telling the Scamp that she?d ?never love another man?. Wondering to himself ?does that include that fucking ladyboy??, the Scamp turfed her immediately, not caring about her emotions as he only wanted yumyum, not love. ?A tad risqué?, thought Rheinhardt, knowing that he?d have to watch the Scamp?s ass from now on.

 

At 7am, the sun rose and kicked new life and light into the grimy depths of the Penh?s premiere knocking-shop. The previously grey-dead chicks? faces that usually reflected the drab décor took on a golden shine as they worshiped the rays, their smiles celebrating the survival of one more night in the Penh without tragedy and the morgue was briefly transformed into a pussy shrine. In these golden moments, Rheinhardt was transfixed by lust. He?d been aware of her all night, but as the low-angle light glowed in her eyes, emphasized her profile and raised her cheekbones she became irresistible. Rheinhardt praised her beauty, made her feel like a real woman and after a 100-shot photoshoot that she seemed to enjoy as much as him, both of them were so turned on that the passionate sex felt like more like love-making than a $20 contract and went on until well into the morning.

 

At 11.30am Rheinhardt hit the sack. What a fucking night! What a fucking city! This place may be perilous because of the disease and the guns, but there?s actually another and more sinister danger. It drags you down, into its belly, embraces you and your vices and your weaknesses and encourages you to celebrate them in all their sordid glory, then pats you on the back and whispers ?Well done Son, but you can take it a little further next time? trust me? you know you want to?. And you do. So you do?. and the story?s the same the next day except you?re a little further down that line, your concept of home and safety a little vaguer and the brutal tenuousness of Phnom Penh reality a little more apparent. But you don?t give a fuck. After all?. this is Cambodia.

 

Later that day they visited the Russian Market, seeking souvenirs in the antique shops that line the south side. Horrorshow, a freshly-melted and very severe facial sulfuric acid attack victim, who?d frightened the life out of them on their last trip when he?d rushed them, dressed in sackcloths and bleating ?yum-yum, yum-yum?, chatted nonchalantly with a tuktuk driver. He was now dressed in real clothes, his face much better and scarcely bothered to look up as the Barang, who had to go to him to give their dollar, went past. Clearly his disfigurement had paid well and Rheinhardt wondered how long it would be before a either fresh acid wash was needed to keep his income at its current level or he started recruiting new staff. Souvenirs scored, the hotel, a doze and a shower called.

 

That night the boys hired a tuktuk and did the usual rounds, then headed north up the river where they found a Khmer fishbowl in a remote part of town well off the Barang-beaten track. They had a beer and cajoled the girls to stand up and turn around, but nothing in particular caught their eye. When they came out, there was a large group of non-too-friendly-looking Khmer youths congregated round their tuktuk, talking with the driver. With this potential for trouble, the lads were happy not to be alone and even happier as they got under way without incident. They stopped again at the Rose Bar and the Zanzibar opposite, where more girls, including the mamasan, wanted their photo taken. The Rose had huge, if antiquated rooms from $14 and Rheinhardt made a note as some of the gash here were high quality. Making a proposition to the best of them however, he was met with ?I know you want to hear my heartbeat, but I cannot do that until I am married? and a beaming smile, ?but I will come with you dancing if you like?? Considering this very attractive proposition for less than 10 seconds, the boys? fucked off to Martinis where Rheinhardt met a very classy 21 year old Viet with polite, good English, flawless smooth skin and a lightly muscled, shapely, lithe body. She was intelligent, had an expensive haircut, good eye contact and none of the lathered white makeup that characterises the usual Saigon contingent. The Scamp also met one of his early morning encounters and whilst to his great amusement Rheinhardt now realised why he kept them secret, it seemed the boys had scored well for their last night. Fucking Perfect.

 

They hit the Heart, but there were just too many faces there that wanted a piece of them and the Heart is just the sort of place it could kick off badly you trod on the wrong toes. A silenced bullet in the belly as you bop, the assassin walking quickly out the door, protected by the bouncers, the connected Khmers and their bodyguards and you could be lying there in white hot screaming agony, bleeding to death from your offal with the toxins building up fast, the nearest hospital of any repute Bangkok and the next plane 6 hours away. The prima donnas from Shanghai who the boys had decided to ignore made a few disparaging remarks; some girls from the Rose Bar who had offered to accompany them were unhappy to see they were with common taxi-girls; the Vamp and her ladyboy glared; a few of the so-called hard men Khmers they?d brushed against on the last trip nodded over and whispered to bodyguards; a white-dressed dangerous Khmer whore who?d apparently worked in Paris and Rheinhardt had nearly taken on his last trip until she turned nasty got a bit mouthy; some rejected taxi-girls from the Walkabout were less than polite and to crown it all, the ubiquitous Sweat loudly declared that the boys were his ?best mates? and went back to pawing all and sundry female on the dance floor, including some good Khmer girls who had boyfriends present. ?That cunt?s gonna get shot?, thought Rheinhardt as they split, knowing it was now time to go in more ways than one. It doesn?t take long as a butterflying Barang with attitude and a long-term eye for top-quality gash to get known in Penh. Beneath the smiles of some Khmers, at times and understandably, lurks a real hatred for these bastards with money who come in and cream off the things they desire, then disappear leaving their damage in their wake. As the Scamp once said, ?if it really kicked off on the Strip and we were getting it bad, these cunts would love it?. Rheinhardt couldn?t disagree.

 

Out of the Heart, he relaxed and was delighted with his Vietnamese girlfriend for the night, especially when he saw her naked. There was not a single blemish on her whole body and she had soft, well-cared for feet, a particular passion of his with the right woman. He dined on her whole body and they fucked for a long time. Rheinhardt was very satisfied and said he?d like to stay friends with her, perhaps maintain contact and see her again. She looked it him with a perplexed countenance. ?This not possible?, she said ?big cannot be friend to small. You go soon enough. Same-same every man?. Curious, Rheinhardt took her to the Flamingo rooftop, where over 2 hours she told him about herself. She?d been sent to Phnom Penh to work 4 months previously when her father bailed out for another woman and left the family with no income. She worked in one of the Chinese massage parlours, where her services attracted up to $100 a night, only a fraction coming to her and only went to Martinis if she had no other customer or was strapped for cash. She hated it, especially the Chinese who frequented the place and treated her like dirt, came on her face, in her hair and on one occasion forcibly in her mouth, violating not only her body but her trust, humanity and a gentleman?s agreement. 20 days previously, she?d returned to Vietnam for a break, only to watch her husbandless sister, suffering in the last stages of full-blown AIDS, die during childbirth. Two days later, with no time for mourning, she was sent back to the Penh by her mother who?d inherited another mouth to feed, simultaneously losing a worker and gaining an unpaid job. Reciting this story she struggled through real tears and at the height of them talked of her sister haunting her dreams, of her nightly dread of sleep, her tears of anguish about her losses and situation and of her desperate need for familial friendship. ?But in Phnom Penh?, she said, ?nobody hears you cry?.

 

They exchanged phone numbers. When it was time for her to go, Rheinhardt offered her $21 dollars for her time. She refused, saying ?I no take money for no work, $10 short time. No cost talking?. Rheinhardt gave her $11 and as she left, slipped another $20 in her jacket pocket as they hugged. He knew he?d never see her again, or if he did she?d be a lot harder. But at this moment she tugged at his heartstrings and he was gutted to see her leave, wishing he was staying a few more days so he could penetrate this incredible woman on more than a physical level. As he watched her elegantly step up onto a moto, blow a kiss, then turn so he could see her beautiful shoulders heading off down the street, he cursed himself for being so engrossed with her that he?d forgotten to take photographs. But they?d connected and in the Penh where pussy was cheaper than a decent meal and a few drinks, this had more real value than a trophy shot or two. If he lived in Phnom Penh, this was the girl he?d take to stay with him. ?At least for a while? he thought cynically as he hit the sack to catch the 2-hours remaining to him before the blasted alarm went off.

 

7am and Rheinhardt rose, called the Scamp and lashed his gear in his bag. They needed to be at the airport for 08.45 at the very latest to make the 09.30 to Bangkok. Whilst Rheinhardt usually cut things fine himself, he didn?t trust The Scamp?s nonchalant attitude to timekeeping. He was packed, showered, fed and checked out by 08.00 and waiting for ?last-minute The Scamp? who insisted on dallying over breakfast.

As Rheinhardt waited for him, the girl from the photoshoot the other night walked by the front of the hotel. He waved and she came in and they talked. She?d been supposed to meet him the next night but hadn?t shown up for some reason. Or maybe it was Rheinhardt who went elsewhere. Time, agreements and people had a way of blurring into a jumble of drink, sex and money in the Penh. She?d been great company and good value, so when he told her he was leaving in a few minutes and she put the bite on him for a few dollars, Rheinhardt didn?t mind too much as the memories of her sensual, willing body were still strong and he had the photos to prove it. He gave her $10, a hug and left. As the minibus pulled away, the girl burst into loud tears in the middle of the road, her wailing audible above the revving of the engine. Rheinhardt was shocked at the impact he?d obviously had simply by doing what he liked doing best and more than a little thoughtful about having said goodbye to the best 2 women of his trip within 3 hours of each other. They drove on in silence. The Scamp was first to speak, quietly and with unusual and highly unexpected compassion in his voice. ?That really brought a lump to my throat?, he said. After a long silence, the inevitable humorous barb came hard. ?Her life must be a world of shit if she is crying over you?. An indignant Rheinhardt patted his crotch and his wallet. ?Both well-packed?, he braved, bowing his head slightly so The Scamp didn?t see his eyes flush.

 

On the way through customs, Rheinhardt worried about getting his ?bronze? Buddha out of the country, not that he was in any way convinced of its antiquity. No problem. But at passport control, things got weird. The officer looked him up and down, stood up for a better look, sat down, tapped keys on his computer and looked again at Rheinhardt several times, comparing him to what he saw on his screen. Rheinhardt?s blood turned cold. Is this a pull? And if so, why? Had he stepped on a connected Khmer?s toe with one of the girls? Was he being set up for something? After about three minutes of tapping, the Customs Officer eventually held out the passport and Rheinhardt?s heart noticeably slowed. As he tried to take it, the guy tightened his grip, looked him directly in the eye and said ?You very handsome man? before smiling flirtatiously as he released the passport into Rheinhardt?s grateful hand.

The Scamp guffawed on hearing the story and the immediate cruel spike ?he was probably the first cunt to say that to you all week and mean it? added fuel to the raucous humour that lasted all the way to Bangkok and on to Pattaya.

And that was Cambodia.

 

Epilogue

 

A few days later Rheinhardt woke at 1.30pm, the memories of the previous day?s debauchery, culminating in an all-night drink-fuelled party outside the Blues Factory off Walking Street in Pattaya, filtering through his threatening hangover. It had been a real drunken one. He remembered cruising the GoGos then the discos without finding what he wanted, then stumbling over the late-night oasis and playing pool and winning against one Thai after the other, including some grotesque ladyboys who he normally avoided like the plague. But the banter of the mixed crowd was friendly and the mood benign, even after a farang and a Thai had a boxing match in the little Soi between the bars. His mouth was dry, yet he could still taste the delicious flavours of the slender and supple Thai girl who obligingly accompanied him home, let him shave her 6am-shadowed cunt then gave him what he needed to take him into the oblivion of sleep.

 

His mobile beeped with an incoming text. Expecting the Scamp, Rheinhardt smiled, imagining him now home, disembarked and at the mercy of the rain, the wind, the tediousness of work and the energy-sapping complexities of western female minds. The previous night, drunk, reluctant to go and swaggering into an unusual 4-2 pool lead, he?d characteristically left Pattaya too late in a taxi headed for the airport. Gridlocked in heavy traffic and only in possession of a non-changeable budget ticket, the Scamp had realised his only chance of making the flight was to get out and run the last 2 miles to the terminal, carrying his 15kg suitcase with him. Twenty minutes later, disheveled and totally out of breath, he had to swallow seven species of sewerage from the officious Thai KLM check-in girl to get her to hold the flight. Eventually she haughtily agreed and made the call, only to be immediately faced with the Scamp?s wind-up that as a gold-elite KLM customer who usually travelled business-class, he was unhappy with how she?d spoken to him and he wanted her name for a formal written complaint. Name obtained, the sweat-soaked wildman Scamp proudly strutted onto on the plane, chortling at the pleas of ?for Christ sake, not beside me!!? written on the face of every impatient passenger he?d kept waiting.

 

But the message wasn?t from the Scamp, it was Rheinhardt?s Phnom Penh rooftop girl.

?I.Ly.find.$20.you.my.pocket.thank.very.much.you.good.man.now.I.know.sure?.

Rheinhardt took a sharp intake of breath. With those few kind words the pains of Cambodia descended like sledgehammers and shattered his defences as if they had never existed. Tears streamed down his face, blinding him with salt and helpless, futile rage. He struggled a long, wretched groan from the depths of his stomach and curled into the foetal position, sobs robbing his dignity and exposing his Achilles? heels. The voices of Phnom Penh capitalised. They tortured his weaknesses as he lay naked and undignified in his once-cosseted hotel room, the squalor, the deformity, the poverty, the anguish and the agonies beating his head in a relentless, shrieking cacophony.

 

A short time passed. Rheinhardt emerged with the inner peace of a pre-sunrise dawn, his love affair with the Penh refreshed, his conscience clear and his heart strong. The force of the cleansing emotion that had just passed through him had robbed the strength from his legs, feasted on his testosterone and left him calm and adrenaline-free for the first time in a week. Stunned by what had just occurred he looked in the mirror, hardly recognising the man who stood before him and mused ?Fuck me!... I could do with another hit of that!?

 

[Guest]

I just read all of this and it brought tears to my eyes. What an ending. I've been there myself.

 

Paragraph spacing would help tho?

[Hugh_Hoy]

After reading it, I was fucking EXHAUSTED. If I looked in the mirror, I'd say to myself, "Hugh, how the fuck did you survive that?"

 

HH

[Central Scrutinizer]

Excellent! Good writing, good storytelling, nicely done characters and setting the scenes. I loved this one. Dark, nasty and gritty, yet human. Nicely done.

 

Cent