Cheryl Tan - Sarong Party Girls

Past the reception area, there was a large cavernous room filled with neat rows of desks, all in a grid. Even though it was lunchtime, the room was filled with women, some eating sandwiches at their desks, others gathered together, chitchatting over cups of tea. At first I thought I didn’t know anyone here but a youngish woman caught my eye in the far corner—wasn’t that Michelle? Albert’s assistant before me? And that woman she was chatting with—that was Pauline, the one before Michelle! I had met Michelle when I first arrived but knew Pauline from a photo Albert had once shown me. In another corner of the room, I spied a woman I sometimes saw having coffee with Albert in the cafeteria. Could she be another former assistant? I had thought all along that these women left for jobs elsewhere—perhaps they became executive assistants to men higher up than Albert, or for CEOs along Shenton Way. But no, here they all were, in some apparent dumping ground for the assistants Albert had outgrown. As much as I’m sure Albert was going to paint this as a good career move, this was essentially a cemetery for aging women that the New Times —or rather, Albert—didn’t want anymore!

I was so shocked I didn’t even see that Michelle had spotted me. She was waving vigorously by the time I noticed.

I knew what I should do, but I simply couldn’t. No, this was not a place for Jazzy—not today and definitely not in the near future. I quickly turned around and walked out, back across the parking lot and into my shiny, clean building. My heart didn’t stop racing until I was safely back in my plump swivel chair. “Jazzy,” I told myself. “You need to use your brain to think! This cannot happen to you. It simply cannot.”

Albert returned from lunch just slightly mabuk, though still ignoring me. He didn’t say a word to me for most of the afternoon. Toward the end of the day though, just as I was starting to put files away and clean my kopi cup, Albert popped his head out of his office and said, “Jazz, can you come in for a minute?”

Finally! “Yes, boss!” I said, and quickly went in.

“Come, sit, sit,” he said, opening his drawer and taking out his specs.

Was he doing this to get a better view today? Oh, that’s right. Guniang was wearing a skirt today. I started to walk over to his sofa, wondering if I should offer to mix him a drink first, when Albert said, “Not today, Jazz—I’m late for drinks already, so I don’t have much time. Just come sit on the chair over here.”

OK—guniang today was actually wearing nice panties and all, since I had that dinner tonight with Roy and his company. If Albert didn’t care about peeping, it’s his own pasal. I just walked over and sat on one of the black metal chairs in front of his desk.

Albert was quiet and looked like he was thinking hard about something. I didn’t want to interrupt him but I had decided last night when I got home—if he doesn’t know what is happening with Sean, he should know. This kind of shameful thing can be very bad for the New Times, you know. I may not read the newspaper but I always look at the headlines, so I know that the New Times really likes to splash stories about politicians and CEOs having scandalous affairs all over the front page. If word about Sean’s sex-box parties gets out—die lah! The New Times will have no more face already. Besides, if Albert sees me as a valuable person who can give him information about his underlings in the newsroom, maybe I won’t be moved to circulation after all?

No, Jazzy must be brave. Even if I might get in trouble for being the one to tell on Sean’s parties, better to just do it.

“Albert, I really need to tell you something,” I said, starting to launch into the story I had been trying to tell him all day. But Albert cut me off!

“I know,” he said, looking a bit serious and sad. “No need to say. Actually, I really don’t want to hear the details, but I know.”

Know? Know what? And how can he know? Babi… did that bitch Su Fen tell him something? What did she say?

“No, Albert, I really need to tell you…”

“I know, you went to Sean’s party,” Albert said; his face looking a bit red, patches of it appearing all over his forehead even. Everyone knew whenever that happened, Albert was truly embarrassed. He cleared his throat. “Look—I know what happens there. And I hear the party was a big success, everyone had a good time, et cetera, et cetera. Sean already told a few of us about it after the morning meeting. Wah, that Su Fen—is she really as talented as he says? Wait, don’t tell me. I want to find out myself.”

What? What did Sean say? What should I say? And then I realized: what can I say that Albert would believe over Sean’s word?

“Hey, Albert, you know what kind of girl I am—I didn’t… I mean, I did go but I didn’t… I can’t…” I said. Damn bloody irritating. The story I had been thinking about telling him since I got home last night and practiced during all those hours when guniang couldn’t fall asleep suddenly wasn’t coming out.

“It’s OK, Jazz,” he said, looking sad again. “These things happen. Sean is a very handsome guy—and you know, once they move me upstairs he will probably be the one sitting in this chair. So it’s good that you played your cards right. But I never doubted you—Jazzy. You have a good head on your shoulders. You’re going to be all right.”

I couldn’t believe I was hearing any of this. I was still trying to think of how to explain and how to make him believe when Albert continued.

“Anyway, I didn’t call you in to talk to you about any of this,” he said. “Remember our conversation last week? I’m glad we had it because it’s so coincidental, I was talking to the head of circulation and he has a very good opening so I thought about you. We had some nice chitchats and it’s all settled…”

Circulation? What nonsense is he talking?

“Albert, thanks for the offer but I’m very happy working for you—really,” I said. “I don’t want to move. I really really love working for you.”

“Come on, Jazzy—there’s no future for you here,” he said. “Don’t make this difficult, OK? It’s a very good job—it even pays a bit more. Win-win! Don’t say I never take care of you.”

“But, Albert, I—”

“Please. Jazzy, don’t make this difficult—be a pro, OK?” he said. “You’ve been working for me for how long? We’ve always had a good relationship. You’ve been great. But it’s time.”

My mouth was still open but no words were coming out. I could see in Albert’s eyes that he was starting to feel a bit bad. Of course he should—I’m the best assistant he’s ever had!

“Jazz, eh—what time is it now? Aiyoh, I’m really late. Better make a move,” he said, taking off his specs, quickly folding them and putting them back in his drawer.

“Come, come—it’s time to knock off! Don’t you young people have some big fun to get to on a Friday night?” he said, getting up and gesturing for me to quickly follow him. His face was starting to look impatient.

Quietly, I followed behind him.

“The new girl is coming on Monday, so pack up your desk this weekend,” he said. “But come here Monday morning and show her the ropes then report to Gerald Ho over in circulation by eleven. Don’t be late. Oh, and since I have that meeting at the printing plant I won’t be in until noon, so make sure she’s all settled in and knows how to order my lunch before you go.”

Albert didn’t look back at me as he said any of this. And he didn’t turn around once the whole time I watched him walk all the way across the long newsroom and out the door.

The only time I had to think was the thirty-minute taxi drive that evening from the office to Manhattan.