Mai let out an excited breath. She’d done it again! All by herself. Although Chị Tâm would disapprove, Mai wished her sister could see her now. This was the second time she’d succeeded, the first, of course, talking to Phong on the trawler. She was so proud of herself that she kept a silly grin on her face and found it difficult to concentrate as Chú Thạc explained the system to her.
Hạnh poked her in the side. Mai glanced over. Frowning, Hạnh stared at Chú Thạc. Mai would be a “personal” waitress. When a GI came in, particularly if he was alone, a bar girl would bring him a drink menu, then sit and help him decide on his order. The Stardust offered a wide range of tropical and American drinks. Once he decided, she would say she hoped he didn’t mind if she joined him. She would go to the bar, where Chú Thạc would make his drink and give her a glass with colored water and ice. Her job was to take his money or, preferably, start a tab. She was to make sure the soldier’s glass was always full. If a group of GIs came in, two or more bar girls could snag them. They should always smile, chat, dance, flirt. The more attention the bar girls showered on the GIs, the more drinks they’d order, and the more money they would all earn. Chú Thạc would record how many drinks each soldier and bar girl ordered. They would be paid every night at the end of their shift.
“How many bar girls are there?” Mai asked.
“There can be as many as twenty.”
Mai did a quick calculation in her head. Drinks were on average 75 đồng each. If a GI had five drinks, and a bar girl the same, that was seventy-five hundred per couple. And half of that—Mai sucked in a breath—was a lot of money. Much more than she could earn at the Saigon Café.
It was eight PM when two GIs walked into the Stardust. The air-conditioning was running full blast. Already the blue haze of cigarette smoke floated toward the fans on the ceiling. Even so, Mai was delighted. No longer would she sweat in the hot, wet Saigon weather. The men headed to one of the booths. Hạnh and Mai made eye contact with each other, waited until the men sat down, then sauntered over. One man was taller than the other, so Hạnh approached him; Mai gravitated toward the other.
“Hi, boys,” Hạnh said cheerfully.
The tall soldier replied. “Hello, sweetheart. What’s your name?”
“Hannah.”
“Well, Hannah, you just sit right down next to me, darlin.’ I’m Chuck. Who’s your friend?”
Hạnh sat down. “Maylinn. She just here to Saigon. She—how you say—afraid? Quiet?”
“She’s shy?”
“Yes, shy.”
“Well, Lenny here don’t mind shy girls, do you, Lenny? You sit next to him, Maylinn.”
Hạnh translated. Mai nodded and sat down.
“She doesn’t speak English?” Chuck said.
“Yes,” Mai said, “I speak.”
“Well then,” Lenny piped up. “That’s good.”
Mai looked over. He wasn’t the worst-looking guy in the world. For a white man. But he wasn’t really a man. He had pimples on his face, and his cheeks were as rosy as a baby’s. She was surprised. Were American soldiers always this young? Or had he, like her, lied about his age? It didn’t matter. His youth loosened her up, put them on an equal footing. She smiled. He returned it. “You are one gorgeous babe,” he said.
Mai didn’t know what gorgeous meant. “What is ‘gorgeous’?”
“Beautiful,” Hạnh translated.
“Thanks.” May felt her cheeks get hot. “You want drink?”
“We’ll start out with beers,” Chuck said. “Miller, if you got it.”
“We do,” Hạnh said. “Come, Mai.”
Mai rose and smiled at Lenny. When she and Hạnh were out of earshot, Mai asked, “What is ‘shy’?” When Hạnh explained, Mai said, “But I’m not shy at all.”
“They don’t know that. Go along with it.”
“That isn’t me.”
“You’re working now. Think about playing a role. You are an actress. That’s what makes it fun. Different GI, different role. Shy, not shy. Sexy. Loud. Whatever they want. As long as they keep buying drinks.”
Mai ran her tongue around her lips. She could do this.
And she did.
When she returned with Lenny’s beer and a glass, she set it down in front of him and poured his beer. She favored him with a shy—or what she thought was a shy—smile. A minute later, one of the boys who’d been mopping the floor came over to them with a drink, straw, and little parasol. “Thank you,” Mai said softly.
“Oh man, I’m sorry,” Lenny said. “I didn’t know you wanted a drink, too.” Mai nodded. Lenny tossed back his beer and gestured to the boy. “Two more, just like that, for us. And put them both on my tab.”
The boy returned to the bar but hurried back less than a minute later with their drinks. Chú Thạc had already poured the drinks, Mai guessed.
“What do you call this?” he asked Mai.
She shrugged. She didn’t know.
Chuck cut in. See that slice of orange on top?” Lenny nodded. “It’s called an Agent Orange.”
The two soldiers guffawed. Mai shot Hạnh a quizzical look. “Ask them what the joke is.”
“What so funny?” Hạnh asked.
Chuck spoke in English. Hạnh listened, then turned to Mai. “He says the drink is called Agent Orange, for the chemical that strips the land and poisons it.”
Mai remembered the fields around her village that had been defoliated. “That’s not funny.”
“They’re Americans.” Hạnh shrugged, as if that explained everything.
Lenny slipped his arm around Mai’s shoulder. “You are so goddamned beautiful . . . I hope you don’t mind.”
Mai remembered to act shy. She went rigid for a moment, then looked at him. Then she gulped down a swig of her drink, looked over, and met his eyes. “Is okay.”
Lenny’s fingers brushed the back of her neck.
Two rounds later, the lights dimmed and slow music started. American music she recognized from listening to the transistor radio back home. Lenny started singing. “My girl, my girl . . .”
Chuck joined in. “Talkin’ bout my girl . . . my girl.”
“C’mon,” Lenny said. “Let’s dance.”
“Okay,” Mai said. He waited for her to slide out of the booth and walked her to the dance floor, where he put his arms around her and held her tight. She wrapped her arms around his neck. Together, they swayed to the music, not moving much. Over his shoulder she spotted Hạnh and Chuck in a similar embrace. Hạnh winked at her.
Mai had never danced like this with a boy before, and at first she felt self-conscious. Still, she enjoyed the warmth of his body pressed against hers. Then she felt his erection through his pants. Startled, she drew in a breath. What should she do? This was the first time she’d ever been this close to a boy. Was she supposed to be cross? To tell him it was not decent to dance this way? Or should she simply ignore it? She was about to withdraw from his embrace and go back to the booth when she decided he must know he was erect, but it didn’t seem to bother him. So, if it didn’t bother him, it wouldn’t bother her. In fact, the only reason he was erect was because of her. She was desirable. Sexy.
She considered this new train of thought. If she was honest, she knew when she called over to Phong on the trawler that he would respond. Everyone said she was beautiful, and men worshipped beauty. Now, apparently, Lenny felt the same way. Vietnamese or American, men were the same the world over. She would remember that.
An hour later, Lenny and Chuck had polished off two more rounds and were slurring their words. Lenny leaned over and pulled Mai toward him. “I want to get to know you. All of you. Will you make love with me, Maylinn?”
No man had ever talked to her that way. She hoped she was blushing. But she was in no hurry to lose her virginity. Certainly not to the first man who asked. She pulled back and covered her mouth with her hand, pretending to be shocked.
It worked. He grimaced. “Oh, hell. I came on too strong, didn’t I?”
She looked over at Hạnh, who translated for her.
“Tell him I—I’m not that kind of girl.”
When Hạnh translated, Lenny said, “I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”
She studied him, leaned forward, and kissed him on the cheek. Let him have some hope. “You come again.”
“Okay, baby. I’ll be back tomorrow night. Will you be here?”
When she nodded, he got up and lurched toward the bar. Mai wondered whether he and Chuck would make it back to the base.
The tab was five drinks and a beer for him, five drinks for Mai. A good start.