'No. Just somewhere to relax.'
'Okay, okay. No problem.'
The cab took off.
The first place the cabby took him looked like such a dump from the outside, Quinn didn't even get out of the car. The next place wasn't much better. Still, Quinn didn't want to waste the whole night in the back of a cab.
The driver must have registered Quinn's hesitation. 'No, no. Not here,' the driver said. 'I know better. Close to hotel. You like.'
They drove for fifteen minutes, then pulled up in front of another building. This one was on a darkened street a couple of blocks from the Saigon River. There were a dozen people standing outside, clustered around the front door. A mix of Vietnamese and foreigners. All were well dressed.
'Apocalypse Now,' the driver said. 'Very popular.'
As Quinn got out, he noticed two more cabs pull up. Out of the first climbed a young Vietnamese couple. Out of the other came three boisterous Caucasian men. By their accents, Quinn identified them as Australians. At least the cabby appeared to be right about one thing: Apocalypse Now was a popular place.
There was a bouncer at the door, but he let Quinn in without a word. Being a foreigner meant money.
Inside, the place was packed, seventy percent Vietnamese, the rest a mix of other nationalities, but mostly Caucasian men. Music blared from somewhere, a song by the Gorillaz from a few years back, 'Clint Eastwood.' There were tables and an open area for dancing. Quinn began working his way through the crowd toward the bar.
He was halfway there when someone placed a hand on his shoulder. Quinn turned.
'You speak English?' It was a young guy, white. Judging by his accent, either German or Dutch. The guy's eyelids were heavy. Quinn guessed he'd been drinking for a while.
'Yeah?' Quinn answered.
'American, huh?'
Quinn said nothing.
'You need anything, man?'
Quinn shook his head. 'I'm fine.'
'Hash? Opium? I think I got some X left, too.' The guy began digging into a pocket.
'I'm fine,' Quinn repeated. He headed toward the bar.
'All right,' the drug dealer called out. 'You need something, you know where I am.'
Quinn ordered a rum and Coke. Drink in hand, he turned back to study the room, unsatisfied. This wasn't the scene he needed. What he wanted, he realized, was to be doing exactly what Nate was probably doing – sitting at the Mai 99 restaurant, drinking a Tiger beer and talking to the waitresses. That was Quinn's comfort zone. A less intense atmosphere. Casual flirtation with women he didn't know well. Relationships that would go nowhere. Nights spent alone back in his room. With a book. With the TV. With his computer. But with no warmth beside him. It was easier that way.
To his left, another foreigner, maybe six foot two and solidly built, was talking to a tiny Vietnamese woman. Girl, really. She couldn't have been more than eighteen years old. Quinn couldn't hear what they were saying over the loud music, but he got the idea that a business deal was being discussed.
A moment later the woman kissed the man on the cheek, then walked off. The man straightened, a smirk on his face, then noticed Quinn looking his way.
'How's it going, mate?' the man said. Australian. Quinn recognized him as one of the guys who'd arrived just after he had.
'Fine,' Quinn said.
'Didya get a load of her?'
Quinn nodded but said nothing.
'A real pro, that,' the man said. 'Wanted a hundred fifty U.S. Hell, I could go to Phnom Penh and find a real looker who'd stay with me all week for less than a hundred and fifty. She'll be back though. Unless she finds a newbie not clued into the local pricing structure.'
Quinn shook his head sympathetically. It wasn't a conversation he had any real interest in. 'Where you from?' the man asked.
'Canada,' Quinn said. 'Vancouver.'
'To the Queen, then.' The man raised his beer, and Quinn tapped it with his own glass. 'Leo Tucker,' the Aussie said. 'That's me.'
'Tony Johnson.'
'Here on business, Tony?'
Quinn nodded. 'You?'
'Nah. Just checking out the action. The ladies here are fucking gorgeous, but they're pricing themselves out of business. You here for long?'
'Leaving in the morning.'
'Too bad,' Tucker said. 'There's a private party tomorrow night. Hoping it'll salvage my trip. A friend's throwing it. Should be a lot of fun. Plenty of women to go around.'
