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Back The Third Brother Save as PDF
Chapters (116)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by the Author
  3. The Third Brother
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. PART I
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. PART II
  67. 60
  68. 61
  69. 62
  70. 63
  71. 64
  72. 65
  73. 66
  74. 67
  75. 68
  76. 69
  77. 70
  78. 71
  79. 72
  80. 73
  81. 74
  82. 75
  83. 76
  84. 77
  85. 78
  86. 79
  87. 80
  88. 81
  89. 82
  90. 83
  91. 84
  92. 85
  93. 86
  94. 87
  95. 88
  96. PART III
  97. 89
  98. 90
  99. 91
  100. 92
  101. 93
  102. 94
  103. 95
  104. 96
  105. 97
  106. 98
  107. 99
  108. 100
  109. 101
  110. 102
  111. 103
  112. 104
  113. 105
  114. 106
  115. 107
  116. 108

The cop accepts a beer in a coffee mug, bowing slightly. Mike was never afraid of the police until he arrived in Bangkok. He didn’t have to be. No cop ever looked twice at him before. It’s different here. He wishes he did not have the ecstasy residue in his blood. But when he looks around at Tweety, he realizes he is nervous about the cop for the wrong reason. Mike fears getting arrested for something he did, when the thing about cops in Bangkok is what Mike is now reading on Tweety’s face. Cops here can do whatever they want. But then, after Tweety gets a good look at the cop’s face, she is herself again, telling dirty jokes to Paul. Maybe they all know this cop, Mike thinks. Probably.

The hustlers reappear and the farangs around the table laugh at their coming and going and coming. The hustlers laugh with them. They have been winning what will be seven thousand baht off some guy from London. Taking turns letting him win, winning it back bigger. The guy is getting frustrated but orders another drink and keeps playing. Finally his American friend says no more games and stands as if to fight with the hustlers, which confuses them. The American is heavy in tapered jeans and cowboy boots.

The hustlers ignore him and play a game between themselves, putting on a show, wielding their cues like long wands. The American asks them where they think they’ll be in twenty years, as if that will settle things, or at least make them feel bad. But then one of the hustlers, the better one, gets to talking. He has a daughter. No, he doesn’t have a daughter. His fourteen-year-old wife is pregnant, that’s it. Made good money tonight. Good money. Lotta fun. Only played at 20 percent. His eyes are whacked out.

The American says fuck you and turns his back to the pool table and starts flirting with Tweety, whom Mike assumes he knows from other nights. Tweety flirts back even though Mike is sure she doesn’t want this guy. Something is not right. The American keeps asking Tweety if she wants another drink. She says she has a drink. The American grabs Tweety’s arm, lets go, and then grabs it again. Tweety is laughing and wincing at the same time, and says she cannot go home with him. Finally the American gives up, but he wants the last word.

“All right, Tweetybird,” he drawls, kissing her hard on the forehead, “that’s OK. But don’t ever ask me to buy you a drink again.”

Mike and Paul both stand up off their bar stools. Bridget backs up a step and readies her camera.

“Do you all hear that?” the American says to the bar, enunciating, not smiling, “I’m never buying her a drink again. As long as she understands that, I’m fine.”

“I think she understands,” says Bridget.

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