Tash Aw - Five Star Billionaire

“I didn’t think anyone else would be awake,” she said. “Everyone said they would be up to watch the sun rise, but I think it’s going to be only you and me. Don’t think C.S. is going to make it — he just stumbled into bed not long ago. Guess you guys have been chatting all night long.”

Justin nodded. “Yes. You know, brotherly stuff.”

“That’s what he said — shooting the breeze and all that. It’s good for him to chat with you. Sometimes I think you guys are so different that you have nothing in common, but I guess brothers always have a lot to talk about — especially now.”

Justin shrugged.

“Will you get into huge trouble with your family for saving the New Cathay?” she asked after a while. She was rubbing her eyes with the backs of her hands, but when she looked at him she seemed alert, her gaze steady, patiently awaiting his response, as usual.

“I’m going to try to find a way to please everyone,” Justin said. “There’s got to be a solution that will appease them while saving the cinema.”

“You think so? I don’t see how that’s possible. That’s why I think you’re incredibly courageous.” Her gaze did not waver as she said this. “It means a lot to me that you’re doing this.”

“Um,” he said.

“I was really surprised, to tell the truth. But now that I think of it, you’ve never actually done anything bad. I don’t know why I’ve thought about you as one of them. I’m not even sure who they are. Just not us.”

“There’s lots of stuff about me you don’t know.”

She smiled; her eyes looked watery. “Yes, I’m sure there is. Thanks, anyway, for all you’re doing. It feels like … something personal. I know this sounds silly, but it makes me feel as if you’re doing it to make C.S. and me happy.”

Justin remained silent for a while. The clouds were beginning to lighten now, the velvety texture and soft folds becoming apparent. “It’s going to be dawn soon.”

“Yeah. I’m so sleepy.” She laid her head on his shoulder; it felt comfortingly heavy. “By the way, if you need any help, just let me know.”

The sky lightened, but there was no amber dawn, no dazzling color, only cloud on cloud, a marbling of cobalt and gray.

“Rain today,” he said, but her breaths were already sleep-heavy.

Early in the afternoon, when they’d about slept off their late night, Justin drove C.S. and Yinghui back to KL. The roads were busy with people driving in on a Sunday; it had started to rain, not heavily but enough to make the streets muddy and slow, and even the highways were stop-start with traffic. He dropped Yinghui at her parents’ house, stopping for a moment with the engine running as she collected her things from the trunk.

“Time for the usual Sunday evening dinner ritual,” she said as she leaned in through the window to give C.S. a quick kiss on the cheek. She reached her hand in and squeezed Justin’s forearm. “Thanks for the lift, Elder Brother.” He watched as she walked through the electric gates flanked on either side by a pair of scarlet-stemmed rajah palm trees. He waited until the gates had closed and she was safely inside.

“Can you step on it, please?” C.S. said, stretching and yawning. “There’s a TV show I want to watch. Oh, God, I drank too much last night.”

“She’s great, Yinghui,” said Justin.

“Yeah, but.”

“Things not going so well, then?”

“Yeah, it’s all fine,” C.S. said, yawning again. “It’s just I’m feeling a bit … stale. You know?”

Justin shrugged and drove on in silence until they reached home. He had been planning to spend the evening looking at the papers concerning the Cathay: On the drive back from the seaside, it had suddenly occurred to him that he might be able to make a viable financial case for turning it into a mixed-use development, the kind he’d heard of in cities like London or New York, where important buildings had been converted into five-star hotels and high-end apartments, alongside shops selling luxury brands. Why not the Cathay? It would make a splendidly situated boutique hotel right in the middle of town, where there was nothing of the kind, and would revitalize the area. Yinghui and her friends would complain that it hadn’t been preserved in its original use, but it wouldn’t take them long to realize that what he had done was better than nothing; at least the building would still be there.

It was entirely true what people would soon begin to say of him in his career: Compromise was his forte; he always found a way to sort things out.

He had just settled down to looking at some accounts when the phone rang — Sixth Uncle inviting him out to dinner, sounding bright and over-cheerful. In their family’s unspoken code, Justin knew that something was wrong and that this was not the casual invitation it purported to be.

“I can’t,” he said. “I’m busy preparing for Monday. In fact, I’m looking at figures for the Cathay.”

“The Cathay, huh? Forget it for now; let your uncle buy you a chicken chop at Coliseum. You used to love it there, all the old Hainanese guys fussing over you when you were a boy. See you there in an hour, okay? Take a taxi — big traffic jam here. It’s the rain, isn’t it?”

Sixth Uncle was right: The roads were terrible. Tired of waiting in the unmoving taxi, Justin got out and walked the last half mile in the rain, his sneakers growing damp even though he had a big golfing umbrella with him. The sky was darkening swiftly; what little light of the afternoon that remained was giving way to night, a deepening gloom urged on by the rain clouds. Scooters streaked through puddles, splashing muddy water onto his ankles as he walked along the broken pavements. Everywhere, people were walking in the rain, wearing plastic ponchos that hid the shapes of their bodies. Jostled by the crowds along the narrow strip of uneven paving, he stepped into the road, his foot sinking into a rivulet of water, the grit working its way quickly between his toes.

Sixth Uncle was waiting for him outside the restaurant, taking a final drag from the stub of his Benson & Hedges.

“It’s packed in there. I said we’d come back in a few minutes — they’re going to keep a table for us,” he said. “Why don’t we take a walk round the block?”

“But, Sixth Uncle, it’s raining.”

“Fuck the rain,” Sixth Uncle said as he lit another cigarette. He began walking slowly away from the restaurant. “Stop being such a pussy.”

Justin noticed that the traffic was still tightly packed and had been for some time — even the honking and jostling had calmed down, as drivers resigned themselves to the situation. Some roads had been cordoned off — a fire engine blocked one of the main roads.

“What a mess,” Justin said. “Something must be going on.”

“Uh,” Sixth Uncle grunted. “So how was the weekend? The old house still standing? I haven’t been down to Port Dickson in so long — I keep thinking maybe the old caretaker down there is dead.”

“No, all is fine. Yeah, it was cool.”

“Good.”

They rounded the corner and saw a small gathering of fire engines in the distance. Here, too, a calm had settled over the proceedings: Firemen were standing in small groups, drinking teh-tarik from plastic bags, the lights of the engines still flashing but the sirens silent; shopkeepers were standing at the front of their shops or sitting on rattan stools, looking vaguely in the direction of the fire engines. Everywhere there was the sort of lassitude one feels when a moment of great danger has passed and one realizes that life will continue as it always has. Beyond the fire engines, a thin spire of smoke rose into the sky, barely discernible in the damp gloom.