Dead Girl Beach Read Free Page B

girl.
Hi-so, Asian bitch
, she thought, and left the girl sitting on the floor.
    Grim-faced and defiant, Suma marched across the room and found a metal paper towel dispenser on the floor near one of the stalls. Her cheeks flushed on her small, round face. The breeze from a wall fan whirled around her. Wild tufts of short, black hair styled in the shape of a tiny porcelain bowl lifted up off the back of her head.
    In sudden outrage, she yanked off the lid to the dispenser and dumped the contents onto the floor. She hurled the dispenser across the room and through a mirror above one of the porcelain sinks. Glass shattered everywhere.
    Others stood back, stunned and frightened by her outrage. They were unable to stop her and fearful of the outcome if they tried. Slowly, they saw her anger cool.
    â€œThere. That’ll teach that faggot.” Suma spoke in frantic gulps of air. “That’ll teach that moron not to disrespect me. Who does he think he is, anyway?”
    Nobody answered.
    A moment later, catching her breath, Suma stormed out into the hall just as a group of young, Asian party girls banged in through the door. They entered in a wave of black, clicking heels and short, frilly cocktail dresses. Inside a row of stalls across the room, they unzipped their stylish red and gold sequined purses.
Yah bah
, an addictive methamphetamine called “Nazi Speed” by local druggies, lay buried inside the pockets. They popped the tablets into their red, lipstick-painted mouths and waited. Soon, their eyes glowed in a brilliant, nasty light.
    * * * *
    Upstairs in the bar at 7:00 p.m., Lawan Songsiri sat down in a booth at the front of the bar with Suma. Light from a neon sign over the front door blinked on and off in the reflection on the window. The loud, thumping beat of techno-rock music rocked the night. Frustrated, Suma’s hands closed in tiny fists and pounded lightly on the table in front of her. Customers nearby glanced across at her then turned away.
    â€œHe hates me.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œMy God, Suma.” Lawan stared at her in amazement. “Are you really that blind? Can’t you see?”
    â€œSee what? What’s there to see? He hates me.”
    â€œIt’s not just the mirror you broke downstairs in the bathroom. It’s more than that. I had to talk to Bennie—beg him not to fire you.”
    â€œWho told you about the mirror…his pets?”
    Lawan smiled a faint, incredulous smile. She was twenty-nine years old. A petite, affable Thai woman with eyes the color of black coffee. Her hair was dark and worn in a business bob, and her face was small and round. Her lips were full and painted red. Not a wrinkle showed on her pretty face with its light brown, unblemished skin. Now, she had that look. Suma recognized it. She had seen it many times before—that hopelessly confused, totally incomprehensible expression used by a parent having to deal with a recalcitrant child.
    â€œThere you go, again…going off like that. Can’t you just learn to relax for once? You’re lucky to have a job after your little temper tantrum.”
    Suma stared at her older sister with a look of anguish. “You said it before. Why he hates me. You said, ‘It’s more than that.’ What did you mean?”
    â€œI don’t know. I really don’t. Some people are like that. They get it in for someone. You can’t explain why. It’s just there. So please, Suma. Stay away from him. Just ignore him. Don’t go near him.”
    Lawan stood up. “He wants you out of here, tonight. Come on. I’ll drive you home.”
    Before Suma had time to respond, Lawan had the door opened, and they walked outside. It was a mid-December evening. The temperature was 32 degrees Celsius—89.6 degrees Fahrenheit. Still hot and humid. They got into Lawan’s car, a beat up 1990 Toyota Corolla, and drove on the road above the beach