Tash Aw - Five Star Billionaire

“This is the problem with China these days, everyone is so arrogant,” Yanyan continued. “No one can take criticism anymore. Look at you, willing to sacrifice love because you lost face. He doesn’t judge you; he knows you are a decent person. You behaved like a slut with him and he didn’t even take advantage of you. I don’t know why you think that’s a loss of face. Just ring him.”

Phoebe turned over and closed her eyes, listening to the sharp splintering noise as Yanyan split open the pumpkin seeds one by one before dropping them into an empty tin. She had not told Yanyan that she was probably going to be fired and that soon they would not be able to eat crabmeat dumplings and Australian grapes, that they would be back to where they were before, unable to pay the rent. “You only want me to get back with him so that he can give you concert tickets.”

Yanyan laughed. “Who doesn’t want to hear Chang Chen-Yue live? You’re really crazy. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me. Anyway, I think my time in Shanghai is over.”

Phoebe sat up and looked at Yanyan. She was still eating her pumpkin seeds, one by one, like a machine in a factory, each movement identical to the last.

“You’re not joking,” Phoebe said quietly.

Yanyan shook her head.

“But where will you go? To … your village?”

Yanyan nodded.

“But you can’t do that, you said there’s nothing there.”

“What else can I do?”

Phoebe got up and sat on the bed next to Yanyan, watching her thin dry fingers cling to each pumpkin seed. “When you first left your village, when you first went out — didn’t you dream of seeing the world? Didn’t you want to make lots of money and achieve great things?”

Yanyan bit into another seed without answering.

“If you give up now and go back to your village, there will be no dreams, nothing.”

Yanyan picked at bits of shell that had fallen on the bed. She stood up and dusted off her trousers. “Where else am I supposed to go?”

BY THE TIME PHOEBE reached work the next day, she had decided what to do. She had not slept; all night she had listened to Yanyan’s slow, even breaths. Yanyan did not move at all during the entire night — she lay curled up with one hand resting against her cheek, the other flung out wide as if reaching for an invisible object. Her eyelids did not tremble; her brow was not frightened by nightmares. She didn’t have dreams, Phoebe thought; her life was sheltered from ambition. It was better that way.

As Phoebe walked along the streets of Jing’an, the early-morning sunlight glinted off the mirrored glass windows of the office blocks like daytime stars, and the branches of the plane trees were hanging heavy with heat. The people who ran the small food shops that lined the back alleys were setting the plastic stools outside their stalls, the smell of pancakes and griddled bread filling the air. The streets were already busy with crisscrossing lines of traffic.

She thought, There is no real decision to be made, for true decision requires true choice, and I have no choice.

She arrived at work a whole two hours before the spa was due to open, surprising the cleaning staff, who were halfheartedly sweeping the floor of the reception. One of them was even digging through the bowl of sweets on the counter, trying to find her favorite flavor. Phoebe gave them firm instructions and stood by as they carried out their tasks. She needed the place to return to its usual condition of perfection. Once they had gone, she checked the time — there was still half an hour before the first of the girls would arrive, and since they were never on time these days, it gave her plenty of time to organize herself.

She locked the doors and retreated to the office. The fluorescent strip lights flickered into life row by row as she turned them on and settled down in front of the computer. First she checked the accounts — it was true, the last two weeks had not been healthy; there had been too many cancelations and too few new bookings while she had neglected her duties. But the important thing was that there was still plenty of money in the bank account. They had already started to break even, and there was always cash in the account these days — Boss Leong left it there as a sign of confidence. Good businesses run themselves, she would say in her robot manner. Phoebe wondered which book she’d read that in — it didn’t sound very convincing. Maybe Boss Leong should have bought better books, which would have advised her on personal style and elegance too. If Phoebe were in charge of the business, she would not have left so much money sitting in the bank like that. She would have withdrawn it every week; she would not have trusted the people who worked for her. Phoebe had learned not to place confidence in anyone but herself, and maybe this was the difference between Boss Leong and her. Boss Leong had never been hurt or cheated the way she had. Rich people were always more trusting because they could afford to protect themselves against life. That was why rich people did not suffer.

She took out a piece of paper and held a pen above it. She had chosen a special black-ink roller-ball pen especially for this purpose. Every time she practiced, she used this pen. She let it fall to the paper, her hand moving fluently without her even thinking what to do. She had practiced this so many times, but she had never thought she would need to do it — she had done it out of boredom, just for fun. She hadn’t even known why she was doing it. Now she saw the result of her unthinking scrawls — Boss Leong’s signature, fat bubbly letters seeming to bounce into one another. She compared it to a letter that Boss Leong had signed. No difference at all. Then she opened the safe and took out the checkbook. She signed her name on it, took a deep breath, and added Boss Leong’s signature. They matched well, her own narrow signature, full of tight unreadable symbols, next to Boss Leong’s big messy one. A good balance — you could even consider it beautiful, she thought. No one would ever sense that anything was wrong.

The sum she wrote was not huge either, even though it needed Boss Leong’s countersignature. It would raise no alarm bells; no one would even think of ringing Boss Leong. It was just enough to buy Phoebe an airplane ticket, plus a little bit more to cover a few months’ rent. The ticket would be one-way — it would not cost that much. And even though she’d heard that the cost of living in Malaysia was higher these days than before, it could not be anywhere near as expensive as in Shanghai. She’d be surprised if she couldn’t last somewhere for at least six months with the money she was taking.

Next she wrote a long email to Boss Leong, apologizing for her unsatisfactory performance recently. Her mother had been very unwell and it was weighing on her mind. She’d been very sad; she thought maybe it was even depression. She wasn’t sure why, but she was questioning her own life. She hoped Boss Leong would understand. But all was fine now. She would make sure that everything at the spa ran smoothly; there was nothing else for Boss Leong to worry about.

Within minutes a reply appeared. Sorry to hear about mother. Pleased all sorted. Suggest you move back to reception for time being, pending further assessment/discussion. Will call in to see you on my return tomorrow. Best, LYH .

Good, Phoebe thought. She went to the storeroom, did a quick check on the supplies, and folded the towels. She checked the schedule for the coming month — she would call in each girl and give them a lecture reminding them about their duties, and they would be surprised by her return to form. When she left in a few days’ time, the spa would be running like clockwork again, she would be on good terms with Boss Leong, her conscience would be clear. She would slip away, vanish mysteriously, and for a few days Boss Leong would be perplexed, even angry at the inconvenience. But in Shanghai everyone is replaceable in an instant, and before the week was up, another girl would have taken her place. By the end of the month, most of the girls working at the spa would never have even known that Phoebe had once worked there.