CHAPTER FIFTEEN
For those of us whose life was Angeles, the party rolled on. Hangovers and catfights and bell rings and beer and dancing and half-worn bikinis and bar fines and pool and everything and anything that was Angeles-it was all part of the cycle that never ended. Get on or get off, because there was no in between.
Isabel adapted quickly to her new role as waitress, making as much as, if not more than, she had when she’d been a dancer. And every month, money would come in from Larry, more than enough so Isabel could live comfortably, send some home, and quit work if she wanted. But even though I told her every time the money arrived, she would just nod and say she didn’t need it then.
In that, I think, she probably was unique among the girls on Fields. Even if they had really believed they weren’t going to touch it, most of the girls would have ended up taking it out anyway. The temptation was too great, and the pressure from the other girls for them to use it would have been tremendous. The majority of girls on Fields had a bad case of spend-what-you-got-and-don’t-worry-about-next-week. But for the longest time, Isabel and I were the only people who knew about her situation so I guess that helped.
Larry fell into the habit of visiting every two or three months. Sometimes he’d spend the whole time in Angeles, other times he’d take Isabel away for a while. To Manila, to Puerta Galera, back to Boracay. He also became one of my steady suppliers of Marzen.
As far as Cathy and I were concerned, I was able to keep that secret from the girls at The Lounge for a good week and a half. And once the news was out, the incessant teasing began. The one thing I noticed was that the girls became a bit more respectful of Cathy. It wasn’t that they didn’t treat her well before, it was just that they had collectively decided she had more power now. And instead of trying to downplay this, I decided to use it to my advantage, leaving Cathy in charge for hours on end while I went to “run an errand,” which usually involved having a beer with Dieter at Sinsations or with Hal at Tricks. Cathy seemed to enjoy the new responsibility and even talked about maybe being a mamasan one day.
Just a little less than a year after that group trip to Boracay, I was sitting in the back office at The Lounge, ostensibly going over the books but in reality doing the crossword puzzle in a two-week-old copy of the
This, in itself, was a bit surprising, as usually I couldn’t hear anything over the music. But it was just after six p.m. and the place had been pretty empty so the music was turned down low.
I was out of my office in a shot, and heard another scream just before I entered the main room. In the bar, I found the girls grouped together near the front door, but no one seemed to be in distress. In fact, most of them were smiling or laughing.
Their attention was focused on a guy who had just entered. He was a big guy, not tall, but not fat either. He had the look of one of those guys who spent their entire day in the gym lifting weights. Muscles bulged everywhere, and while he could have probably lifted fat ol’ me off the ground without effort, I wasn’t going to test him.
It was Rudy, of course, he whose last name I never got because I never asked. He acted the part of the gentle giant, but in reality, he was more of a giant asshole. Wavy blond hair, Nordic chiseled face, and a temper lying just below the surface that could erupt without warning. He was one of the Angeles regulars, a Dane, I believe, who’d immigrated to the U.S. as a teenager, and now lived in the Midwest somewhere. He’d planned his trips around holidays in the U.S. He was always coming to the island at Thanksgiving, and this time, since it was nearing the end of May, he was obviously taking advantage of the upcoming Memorial Day three-day weekend.
Rudy had a way with the girls that was all his own. He had been coming regularly for over ten years, and Jade had told me once that he used to be a lot different than how he was by the time I met him. “Respectful and kind,” she’d told me. “Just a nice guy.” But now he had taken to using sarcasm as charm, and treated the girls as toys who were there for his pleasure. And if that weren’t enough, he was the king of breaking one of the Cardinal Angeles Sins. He was a butterfly, someone who’d bar fine different girls from the same bar on different nights, something he took great pleasure in.
I had a conversation with him once when we were both still sober that went something like this:
“If I see something I like in a bar,” he said,
“And that works?” I asked, knowing that it probably would, but disapproving of anyone who would try it.
“Nine times out of ten the friend’s sitting in my lap two seconds later.”
“Good for you,” I said, unable to hold the sarcasm from my voice.
“Look, it’s their job, right? So if they don’t want to do their job, fuck ’em.”
“You’re an asshole.”
He shrugged. “I’m here to have fun and get laid as many times by as many girls as I can. If a girl doesn’t like my sense of humor or the way I’m treating them, someone else will. I’m not trying to win any nice-guy medals. This is
I doubted he had a heart at home, either, but the sad thing was, he was right. There was always a girl who would take his money. Most of them knew what he was like going in, so they didn’t care. But occasionally he’d hook someone who expected him to come back for her, and she’d stare in shock when he came back to her bar and took someone else.
“Ladies, ladies. There’s plenty of Rudy to go around,” he said.
He was still surrounded by the mob. No matter how big an asshole he could be, he still fascinated the girls. Several of them were squeezing the muscles on his arms while others grabbed at the bits of chocolate candy he was handing out.
I glanced around the room to make sure no other customers were being ignored. The only other guy in the place was sitting in one of the booths, cuddled up next to Wilma. So I put on a big smile and walked up to the crowd.
“Rudy,” I said. “Welcome back.”
“Hi, Jay.” He thrust a hand at me, nearly taking Rochelle’s head off as he did. I grabbed it and gave it a quick shake.
“I heard some screaming and thought maybe we were having a riot,” I said.
“Everywhere I go is a riot.” Rudy laughed at his own joke. “I was just giving a couple of these little beauties bicep rides. Come on, girls, let’s show him.”
He held his arms out, angled slightly downward. Two of the smaller girls, Tessa and Noreen, wrapped their hands around his biceps, Tessa on the right and Noreen on the left. Slowly, Rudy moved his arms upward until both girls, their legs bent at the knees, were dangling above the floor. Rudy continued raising his arms until he looked like a bodybuilder holding a pose at a contest. Both girls screamed as he began twisting at the waist, moving them back and forth.
After he set them back down, I led him over to a booth. Several of the girls followed, piling in around him on the bench. Isabel appeared beside me ready to take his order, so I asked, “Something to drink?”
“Absolutely,” he said.
“Any preference?”
“This is the Philippines, so a San Miguel, of course.”
Isabel was about to turn and retrieve his drink when Rudy said, “Hold on there. Not so fast.”
She turned back. “Yes?”
“Let’s see.” He looked at his temporary harem. “Lady drinks for her, her, her and her.” He pointed at a different girl each time. “But not for her,” he said, gesturing at Lamie. “You stood me up last time. So you’re out.”
Lamie gave a halfhearted laugh and looked around, uncertain.
“I’m serious,” he said. He flicked his hands in an outward motion. “Shoo. Find someone else, because you aren’t drinking from this well.”
One of the girls, Veta, leaned over and whispered something in Lamie’s ear. Lamie looked past her at Rudy,
