not just another day

Today at lunchtime, I received a call from an unfamiliar number with the prefix +447... I let it ring for a few seconds longer. Ah crap, who could this be?

It was Gary, my Scottish ex.

Such a pleasant surprise!. Last I saw him was about 3 months before I left London.

We ended ages ago. But somehow we managed to remain pretty good friends. My guess is that we probably connected on an intellectual level in addition to the short-lived romance.

Hearing his voice gave me a jolt; a reminder of my life back in London.

Until he told me he was just diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. Just yesterday.

It was the cause of his persistent headache for the past year.

Argh! I was so overwhelmed. In my heart, I literally screamed. It was unfair for a sweet decent gentleman like Gary to face this ordeal.

THIS ISN'T FAIR!

"I guess that's why I forgotten about your birthday until yesterday. I am sorry I am over 2 months late, Jamie. Please take care of yourself. I will talk to you another time!"

He hung up before I could respond. Maybe he remembered how incapacitated I get when I get bad news like this.

*****

I walked back to the office. With the busy traffic on the roads and the sun shining right down on me, today felt like any other day.

I strolled along the riverside. It was supposed to be just another day.

I just stopped and sat down by the pier.

My head fell to my hands.

And I wept.

Max stood up, "If you want to know more, call me. You've got my number. Go burn up the dance floor."

"Thanks."

*****

By some odd works of luck, I was paired with Evelyn, the manager from Publications. Chilli red satin dress. Smelled a lot like Prada.

She is famed for amazing footwork. Well, I am known for my nice, shiny shoes.

"Let's do this."

I smiled and nodded. My right arm curved around her waist as my left hand fitted into the spaces in between her dainty manicured fingers.

The lights went down. The music played.

The first song is this song right here.

"Give all my secrets away?"

Maybe not. Particularly not to my dance partner.

Oh well I fucked her husband in the gent's right before the night ended.

That's a secret I better not tell.

it's about time

I am responsible for my own morals and values. Not you, not Tom, not my neighbour.

And for sure, not the censorship board.

"If you don't like it, then don't watch it lah!"

my reputation supercedes me

"Have you done him yet?" Sheralyn, my on-again-off-again faghag said.

She was pointing at Max.

"He is so totally the type you play with, is he not?"

Trying to enjoy the foie gras, I shrugged her off, "Uh maybe."

"Did he offer his teensy cutesy self to you to get the job?"

*****

Max, 22 years old, Malaysian with a Singaporean PR identity card.

He was sitting at the table right opposite ours. We were at this black tie event at the Fullerton Hotel. All dressed to the nines, making inane chatter and dining pretentious food. In the name of society.

I didn't even see him till Sheralyn pointed rather crudely at him.

He got my job. A job I will miss. Arguing with other offices for what I deem as my personal gain. I am pretty good at it. I always get my way.

He got my job.

Because I got promoted.

*****

His eyes met mine.

He then walked right over to my table.

"Gong Xi Jamie! That's Congratulations in Mandarin. You so totally deserved the promotion."

"Thanks. Yeah I know some Mandarin. I took Chinese in high school, Max!"

"Oh really. I didn't know that!"

"Haha never judge a book by its cover, aye?" (corny response, I know)

"Wise words from a stallion! You're going to be jetsetting around a lot!"

"I kind of dread that part. I just got here from the UK and now they are sending me around again. Somebody at the HQ must really hate me."

"It's been such a great month at the office since you got here. You are a cool boss! I am going to miss you. Oh my god, I am such a fanboy of yours!"

"Haha you flatter me too much, Max. You already got my job! What else are you after?"

He inched closer, "Jamie, you are the charming one. There is something about you I can't make out."

"What do you mean?" I am truly confused.

"I have heard great things about you; outside from work. Your reputation precedes you. And now that we are no longer colleagues in the same office......"

just last night

He grabbed me by the shirt and I tumble onto the silk quilt on his bed.

I undid the buttons on my shirt rather clumsily.

... and he was already down there, unzipping me with his...

*****

I can't really recall the whole act but just how sweaty we were, hot in action. It seemed like a daze.

And rather quickly, I was buttoning up.

He asked, "Stay. Stay the night with me."

I turned away and answered, "I can't. I need to get back to work."

"Please stay", and he grabbed me around the waist.

"Sorry. I really need to go. I will call you." I said, but something deep down tells me what I meant was totally different.

As I walked out of his street, I looked up at the Singapore skyline at night.

The moon was hiding behind a bunch of cotton candy clouds. All its impurities veiled away.

Hmm, sounds a lot like me. I am the golden boy in the eyes of the world. But deep down, I am far from what I portray. That is why I never really open up to anybody.

Lest they see the scar he left in me.

*****

I am having the time of my life. Things are all in place.

And I never told any of them I meant anything serious.

So I don't fucking care.