Free Confessions of a Bangkok Private Eye: True Stories From the Case Files of Warren Olson by Stephen Leather, Warren Olson Page A

Square, a much more upmarket pick-up joint.
    Excellent. I headed home for a few hours’ sleep, and by ten o’clock was revitalised and ready to take on whatever the night might hold. I put on my best pair of Chinos and a freshly ironed polo short, splashed on some aftershave and caught a cab. The Hard Rock Café is the haunt of Westerners with money to burn, and hookers looking for a fast buck. The girls don’t look like hookers, and they’d probably be really offended if you called them prostitutes, but they are definitely there hoping to hook a wealthy farang. Most of them probably have jobs, working in department stores, beauty parlours, travel agents, or banks, but what they earn in a month wouldn’t pay for a night out at the Hard Rock. They turn up, usually in pairs, buy themselves a cheap drink and start the hunt. Play For Pay girls is what I call them. And they can be even more dangerous than the go-go bar hookers. The guys who live in Thailand know the score and treat the place for what it is—a meat market. But tourists who turn up often get the wrong impression. They think that they have suddenly become much more attractive and that the pretty young thing in tight jeans and a sexy top is hanging on their every word because they’re God’s gift to women. They take her back to their hotel, have a night of great sex, and then get all confused when the new love of their life starts asking for an expensive present, a cash donation, or help with their mother’s medical expenses.
    I’d been in Thailand long enough to know the score so I ignored all the hot and heavy looks that I was getting from some very attractive women as I walked over to the large square bar in front of the area where the house band was playing some very respectable cover versions.
    I slid onto a stool, ordered a Jack Daniels and watched the very sexy lead singer as she belted out some oldies but goldies. Every now and again I’d be accidentally bumped by some lovely hoping to attract my attention but I was working so I ignored them and concentrated on the lead singer and the entrance. It was the normal Hard Rock Café crowd, not particularly attractive middle-aged men drooling over stunning women, with a smattering of American tourist couples who’d come along thinking it was a burger joint as opposed to a pick-up joint. There was a dining area upstairs where farangs with more money than sense were buying expensive steaks for girls who would have been happier with a bowl of noodles.
    Fai came in just after midnight. By then the place was packed but I had a prime spot by the bar so I moved over to make a space for her. She was with a girl her own age and a girl who was a few years older who I assumed was the sister. Fai pulled out a 1,000-baht note and bought three bottles of Heineken. They were all buzzing and I figured they’d partaken of some yah ba, the amphetamine-based drug of choice for the city’s movers and shakers. I’m old enough to remember when it was called yah ma, or horse drug, because it made you feel as strong as a horse. The cops thought that was too sexy an image for an addictive drug so they managed to get the media to start calling it yah ba, or crazy drug. It didn’t make the drug any less popular, though.
    Up close I could see just what a stunner Fai was, and if she was looking for a playmate for the night I knew she wouldn’t have a problem finding one. She had on tight black trousers, another pair of impossibly-high stiletto heels and a top that showed off a washboard-flat midriff and a diamond pin through her navel. I stopped watching the lead singer and concentrated on the lovely Fai. If I had been Arthur, I’d have taken her to Singapore with me. Or chained her to the bed and locked the door.
    I decided to raise my profile and bought a decent bottle of Australian wine and a couple of glasses. Fai and her friends were dancing in front of the band but when she came back to the bar for a gulp of Heineken