Cheryl Tan - Sarong Party Girls

What time is it now? One something in the morning? I’m guessing that Sher’s Ah Huat confirm must be snoring away already. If he had anything to drink then he’s probably been sleeping for hours and hours. Whatever lah. Her life; she chose it. As long as Fann, Imo and I don’t end up like that, I heck care what happens to Sher.

Just thinking about Sher made my blood boil all over again. No—no matter how fucked up Lunar and its China girls were, my mother was not right. Sher was not right. There was a better future for me, Fann and Imo out there—there had to be. We just had to push out there and get it. Cannot be scared.

“Eh, girls,” I said, tapping on Fann and Imo’s shoulders and pointing at the Lunar VIP section exit. “Come, let’s siam.” We tried to air-kiss Louis goodbye but he was still staring so hard at the dance show that even Imo couldn’t get his attention. So we just left. Nobody looked even once at us—not even at my chio Seven jeans backside—as we squeezed our way through all the guys to get to the door.

Outside, I was so angry I just started walking. Fann and Imo quietly followed—I didn’t know if they were drunk or just being blur. As long as I could hear their click clack heels behind me I didn’t quite care. Before we went to Lunar, I was thinking OK lah, we go, we try to understand their game, then we can try and figure out how to beat them. But those bloody cheongsam and schoolgirl China girls—they have no standards! Even the ones who were not performing, those just there to flirt and hook husbands and boyfriends, they’re all the same! Unless we are willing to just do anything to hook a guy, we have no chance against them.

“Oi—Jazzy! Don’t walk so fast lah!” I heard Fann shouting behind me. “People’s feet pain, you know. Where you going?”

I actually didn’t know. It was only 1 A.M. — too early for supper and definitely too soon to go home. I was feeling quite sad and had no mood for partying anymore. But then Imo pointed at the queue in front of us. “Eh,” she said, “the bouncer at Attica tonight is Louis’s old friend.” Win Toto lah! This means we wouldn’t need to pay the thirty-dollar cover charge.

“OK,” I said. “Let’s go in and see how.”

The music was damn loud the moment we walked in. At that time in the morning, Attica was just starting to get happening—they have a license to close at six, after all. So 1 A.M. is when people really start showing up. The front part of the club is nice—newer-looking, less grungy, got nice shiny podiums for people to dance and all. But this part is where they play hip-hop lah—so unless you want to meet black guys or those wannabe black guys, you’d better fasterly walk through and go to the second building in the back. I tell you, Singaporean guys who want to act black are the worst—all attitude and they think they’re so cool, but when you get to know them better you find out that they are just as no-balls as all the other Singaporean guys. Some more the ones who are really into trying to be black are usually short short small small one. You just need to see them one time and you know—if you go home with them, their cocks confirm will also be short short small small. Waste time only.

So Fann, Imo and I quickly walked through to the building in the back, where a different crowd hangs. This second building—my god, the first time I went there, I remember I was quite scared. Sher practically had to hold my hand the whole time and push my backside up the carpeted stairs—the stairwell was so dark I couldn’t see where I was going and it was so narrow that there were people pushing and shoving, trying to come down right when we were walking up. Kani nah—fucking annoying! The whole thing was so small, tight and scary I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I almost wanted to go home, but Sher said she had heard the place was very worth it. So, even if I was scared also better keep walking. In the end, once we got to the second floor and got used to the super loud Euro techno music, it was quite a good evening lah. Those really white really skinny ang moh guys always seem to like Euro techno the best. So this club was quite the primo place to hook them. We were with Louis at that time so we had a VIP table and of course, Chivas bottles. We met some cute Scottish guys and Fann ended up going on a few dates with one of them. So overall, it was worth it—even if Fann had absolutely no idea what cock her guy was saying every time he opened his mouth.

Tonight was different though—we didn’t have Sher. And usually she’s the one who starts conversations with guys. Or rather, guys try to start talking to her first. Also, we didn’t have Louis there, so we didn’t have any bottles. So we all knew what had to be done: fasterly find some guys to buy drinks for us. Fortunately, Imo’s dress was looking exactly the kind of chio that these Euro Euro guys like—small black dress, a little bit more sophisticated-looking, sexy sexy one. So the moment we got there, some ang moh guy from the VIP area came down to the bar to ask if we wanted to join his friends.

The rest of the night, I was quite blur. I remember doing tequila shots. Then drinking beer from a jug. Then someone ordered champagne. Then I remember Fann getting quite sick. By that time I was already a bit gone. And I was dancing with this guy whose face I couldn’t really see—it was so dark! But he was tall, no glasses, quite skinny and his accent ah—super British, man. Like those old butlers in those British movies—sexy! — but as far as I could tell, he wasn’t that old.

At that time, Imo started ignoring everyone because she started texting like crazy. Ah, must be 4 A.M. already—Louis was probably looking to leave Lunar. I guess he didn’t find any Chinese backside that he liked.

“Jazzy, ah,” Imo said, tapping me on the shoulder. “I think I’d better make a move first.” I was so high by that point that I just nodded and kept dancing.

“Eh, Jazzy—I’m going to send Fann home with Louis. You leave also lah—we can send you home too.” I could tell she was a bit worried about leaving me alone there. Usually we have Louis or one of his friends around to make sure we’re OK—to either send us to a taxi stand or make sure that if we’re going home with a guy, that the guy is decent. But these people, we’d only just met them a few hours ago. We didn’t know anything about them beyond the fact that they were British and they all worked in Jurong on one of those oil refineries. (Which means they confirm are not rich.)

But aiyoh, guniang over here was finally having good time tonight—why must Imo be so naggy? I just waved and said, “Aiyah, no need lah. I how old already—I don’t need another mum, thank you very much. I’ll be OK.” She still looked a bit worried. So I pointed at the guy behind me rubba-ing his crotch into my backside and touching my stomach with his hands as he danced.

“Please,” I said, giving her two thumbs up in case she couldn’t hear me since the music was so loud. “He’ll take care of me—don’t worry!” So she just said “OK” and started helping Fann off the couch and toward the door.

After they left, I started to panic. The music was so loud my feet were hurting from the “boom boom boom” I could feel from the floor. Each time there was a “boom” the guy behind me was rubba-ing into my backside even more, pushing me forward, until I felt like I was almost going to fall over the railing in front of me. Walao! I wanted to say something to him but then I remembered that I actually don’t remember his name.

Some more I couldn’t even hear what song was playing because all techno songs sound the same. And the laser lights shooting all over the room were starting to make my eyes a bit pain. I looked at the dance floor in front of us and it was jammed with all these ang moh guys and Singaporean girls, all of them rubba-ing and hugging and pushing and touching. Long black hair was flying around; white hairy arms were holding on to backsides and waists all over the floor. Maybe Imo was right. I should have left with them.