‘Where are you going?’ he enquired, appearing concerned that I was about to flee the scene.
‘I’ll be back in a minute. I’m just taking some soup down to Huey, Dewy and Louie.’
His laughter followed me down the corridor. Somehow I knew I was going to like it here.
We fell into the comfortable rhythm of a match made in heaven. I would go into work every day at lunchtime to take care of the stock, accounts and prepare for opening.
Running a club that was attached to a hotel was so much easier than an independent, because the hotel took care of all the major cleaning and maintenance. Before we left at night, we cleared all the tables, washed all the glasses and made sure the bar was pristine and locked. But other than that, no matter what state the rest of the club was in when we left at 4 a.m., it was always pristine when I returned in the afternoon. I wish the same happened at home – it would be great to leave clothes strewn around, then return to find them washed, ironed and back in the drawers.
While I was at work, Sam would alternate between Cantonese classes (both official ones, and the informal ones with his friends under the flyover) and martial arts training. He was completely focused on his plans and supplemented his income by charging an obscene amount of money to overpaid expats for personal training sessions at a local gym every night between 5 p.m. and 7 p.m..
Afterwards, he’d meet me for dinner. He was the most interesting guy I’d ever met – a complete encyclopaedia on Asia, on history, on life – so much for the stereotypes about bouncers. Not only was he smart, but he was completely without vanity. He didn’t even look in a mirror except to shave. Another theory blown out of the water.
But the best thing about the relationship was the easiness of it. There were no heavy emotional scenes. No declarations of undying love. No fights and tantrums. It was just simple, relaxed, comfortable and fun, with long conversations and sex that left you smiling for a week. Heaven. I was actually starting to think that I was getting this relationship thing right for once. Every evening, we’d return to the club, separately, of course. Our affair was still filed under the Official Secrets Act and Sam was the epitome of discretion. If anything, it was me who was in danger of blowing our cover. As the months passed, I found it increasingly difficult to stand by while gorgeous women threw themselves at him. One night as I stood at the door with Sam, Kenny, Zeek and Hugh, my patience was tested to the limit.
A stunning blonde who had obviously shared a womb with Kate Moss, sidled up to him.
‘Hi,’ she pouted.
Sam nodded and then turned back to the door.
She wasn’t deterred by his indifference.
‘I was wondering if you wanted to go for a drink when you finish work.’
‘Thanks for the offer, but I don’t think so.’
She curled her fingers through his hair. I wanted to snap them like a Kit Kat.
‘Oh, come on. Just one little, bitsy drink.’ Her fingers were tracing down the side of his face now. I wondered how she would pick things up after I’d removed her thumb.
‘Look,’ he said, detaching her hand from his neck, ‘I’m married. The only person I go for a drink with is my wife, okay?’
The other guys raised their eyebrows. The ‘married’ excuse was one that they all used, but usually only when they were confronted with drunken women they didn’t fancy, not ones who would look stunning on the pages of a magazine.
‘She would never know,’ supertramp continued, ‘and it would definitely be a night to remember.’
That’s it. I looked around for a cleaver to amputate her limbs. Then my mouth started moving before it had consulted my brain and I interjected, trying to act more amused than enraged.
‘I’m afraid she would know. You see, she’s standing here wondering why you’re salivating all over her husband.’
A burst of laughter came from the guys. Sam looked at me, clearly enjoying my reaction.
Blondie staggered off, seeking a hole to crawl in to.
‘Way to go, boss. Don’t suppose you’d do that for me if that little chick who’s been stalking me appears again tonight,’ Hugh asked.
‘Sure, Hugh. All part of the service.’
I glanced at Sam. His amusement had turned to smugness, but the tables soon turned. Zeek spoke up, very bravely as the others were within earshot.
‘Boss, I was wondering if you’d like to grab some lunch with me tomorrow. Maybe go over to Lan Kwai Fong?’
Tempting. Lan Kwai Fong was my favourite area, a collection of streets packed with cool bars and restaurants. But there was a Sam-shaped problem with the idea.
‘Sorry, Zeek. I’ve already got plans.’
He was just being friendly, I thought, nothing more.
Maybe not.
‘How about dinner then?’
‘Sorry, Zeek, I can’t. I’m already seeing someone, you know that.’
I’d been telling them for months that I was seeing someone, but I was sure they thought he was a figment of my imagination.
‘No offence, boss, but how can you be? You’re here every day and night and he never comes to visit you. No guy would put up with that. C’mon, tell the truth. You just give us the boyfriend story to put us off. Come out with me tomorrow. You could do with a bit of fun.’
I could see Sam flushing and grinding his teeth. Mr Cool was looking decidedly lukewarm. I was starting to enjoy this.
‘You’re right, Zeek, I could do with a bit of fun.’
Sam coughed loudly.
‘But I’ll still skip tomorrow. Sorry.’
Zeek shrugged his shoulders. ‘Let me know if you change your mind.’
That night, Sam made love to me like a man who wanted to make sure I’d never let him go.
By Christmas Eve, Sam was losing patience with the subterfuge. Apparently, the staff in the club were running a book
