Page 17 of Moros

Maybe that was just in my head, or because I wanted her to be sad at the thought of never seeing me again.

The rest of the short drive was made in silence and after I dropped her off, I found a parking spot further down her street to stop and make a call.

“Sawatdii khaa, Phi Moros!” Pasha Thitiwattan answered the phone around some static.”

“Hey, Pasha.” I replied. “Are you in town?”

“Yeah—at the gym. What’s up, Phi?”

I smiled.

“I don’t know if there is anything to worry about,” I said. “But I need your help with someone.”

“Are you kidding, Phi? Name it.”

“Come through.” I told her. “I’ll be at Musk until late.”

“Let me run home and take a shower.”

“Okay, I’ll be waiting, Nong.”

She giggled and was gone.

I didn’t speak fluent Thai, but I knew enough to not disrespect or offend anyone. The problem was, whenever I tried rolling out the little I knew, Pasha always giggled.

I had a slight Jamaican accent—that speaking the tonal Thai language was hilarious to her.

Shaking my head, I swung by Ryanne’s place again. This time I walked up to the building and stood at the front just taking in the area.

There wasn’t much there—it felt like a place time forgot.

It seemed most of the city avoided the neighbourhood—it should be a shortcut through to another wealthy community to the east.

But the street was pretty much dead.

Some shortcuts weren’t worth taking.

The building across the road was covered in graffiti with a couple of men sitting on the sidewalk with a radio, smoking and talking.

Just to the side of that was a parking structure that seemed as if it hadn’t been used in a long time—the asphalt was cracked, and it was cordoned off by a chain across the entrance that had long since started getting rusty.

On the same side of the street as Ryanne’s building was an old Suzuki that had a number of parking tickets tucked in the wipers and on one of the front tires was a big, metal boot.

I didn’t know why they thought if the car had that many tickets, a boot would do anything.

It was obvious to anyone watching that the vehicle was abandoned.

The air smelled like burnt rubber and weed.

Her building itself wasn’t safe.

Anyone could open the door, walk across the lobby and gained access to the place. And I doubt the apartment doors were strong enough to stand up against a heavily booted foot.

While I didn’t go inside, I knew I didn’t want Ryanne at this place.

This wasn’t the kind of place a queen should live.

I knew better than to say that to her.

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