“Mike,” says Dreads, sweeping his arm at the Australian, “this is the famous Hardy.”

“So, what brings you to Bangkok and would you like a pull?” Hardy asks.

“I’m fine, thanks,” Mike says.

“He’s a reporter,” says Dreads.

Stupid, thinks Mike, but he sees some of the kids get more interested.

“Well, not much going on around here,” Hardy says, evenly, producing a lacy bra from under his cushion. He begins to play a kind of cat’s cradle with it between his fingers, joint in his lips.

“For a travel magazine,” Mike says. “Just a good vacation, really.”

“I’m sure.”

Mike nods. Hardy studies him and says, “Did you know there is a doctor in California who has a cure for cancer?”

Mike doesn’t say anything and a girl in a pirate bandanna whom Hardy calls Lucy rises from the heap of kids at his feet and makes her way through a beaded curtain to the kitchen. Mike is careful not to stare at her long, tan legs rising up into her cutoff jeans.

“We only started getting cancer recently,” Hardy continues. “It was you Americans, treating everything. But this stuff . . .” Lucy Long Legs is back with a bowl of noodles and two pairs of chopsticks and sits down between Hardy’s legs. “. . . this stuff is just about as organic as you can get.”

Mike asks him how long he’s been in Bangkok. Hardy wraps his legs around Lucy Long Legs and puts down his joint. She feeds him some noodles.

“He’s been here going on fucking twenty-two years,” Dreads says.

“Can’t trust a single motherfucker in this whole town,” Hardy says through a mouthful of noodles. “Never could.”

Mike asks if Hardy can point him to a place where he might score some pills. For the travel story. Mike doesn’t want the pills, he just wants to ask for them.

“No problem, somethin’ like a couple pills,” Hardy says, and resettles his crotch before continuing, “How about a girl, too? Local, the real Thai experience. I’ve got just the one.”

“No thanks,” Mike says, noticing that Hardy is slurring his words. How high is this guy? he wonders.

“Yeah, a girl can be trouble,” Hardy goes on. “She has you because you want to fuck her, so she drugs you and pinches your schwee, or she is set up with a cop and they shake you down. Happened to me three or four times, but I been here going on twenty-two years now.”

“Cops were coming to the club,” Dreads volunteers. “That’s why we left.”

Hardy nods knowingly. “They lock the door and make everybody piss in a cup,” he says. “It’s not the same here, not like it was in the old days.