Palm could feel the inquisitive eyes of the older lady and the other gentleman against his back as he and August climbed into the taxi cab he’d hailed for them both.

“Back to Bright?” August said, turning towards him.

“No, I think I’ll just go back home, with the Friday rush hour traffic, by the time I get back to the building my shift would be over, might as well get a head start.”

“Ah, I see… well, to your home it is then.”

As soon as Palm gave the taxi man his address, they were on their way towards his neighborhood.

The first few minutes were filled with awkward silence, and Palm thought of a million different things to say, but right before he spoke them, memories from the last time they talked came flooding back into his memory. He had been so out of it that day. Why had he said all those things? He’d been so sure that it was the right thing to do, but right afterwards the guilt had almost crippled him. That was why he’d been making a conscious effort to avoid August the past few days, and up until this evening his plan had worked miraculously. Even though they hadn’t shared so much as ‘hello’, Palm was well aware of how busy August had been within the past week, and while he missed seeing his beautiful oval face, he was also grateful for the temporal reprieve it afforded him. He was well over his head, having such feelings for someone who was already taken, and if there had been any hope of them possibly ever being able to get together before, that boat had sailed along with August’s obscurity.

He was back. The August he’d had a crush on so many years ago. The one that had been one of Thailand’s rising superstars. The one that could have any girl with a single wink of his eye. That August was back now. Older, hotter, and if he continued his winning streak, bound to be more popular than before. And for just like that the hopeless, helpless, fragile August who’d once needed his soothing words had walked out the door, most likely never to return. In his place was this rising star. In his place was this person who now existed so far away from his reality that the very concept of them being together was simply… useless.

Unfruitful.

Barren.

Dead.

“I totally forgot.”

“Huh?”

“I totally forgot about your whole musical experience. It’s just, these past few days have been hell, and I am barely keeping track of all the million things I have scheduled to do a day. Between the vocal lessons, and the dance studio practices, and the endorsement meetings and the last minute scheduling changes and —and performances everything else, it’s just been a bit hectic to keep up.” August’s voice sounded strained, his eyes apologetic. “Not that I’m complaining or anything. It’s all also very exciting, but… I—I’m sorry. I should have personally invited you in to atleast audition. Don’t be mad.”

Palm chuckled. “I’m not mad, Gust. Why would I be? I work in the building you live in, remember? I know you’ve been busy as hell trying to get your career back off the ground. And besides, you don’t really owe me anything.”

“Actually I do.” August said. “All of this, it’s all because of you. If you hadn’t intervened when you did—If you hadn’t shown up when you did and given me a way out, I’d probably be working in some cubicle right now, hating the world and hating myself even more with every passing day.”

“All I did was call my little sister. If you should be thanking anyone, it should be her.”

“You did so much more than you know, Palm. I just wish there was a way for me to show you.”

Palm let the words sink in, and his gut clenched in pain at a sudden realization.

“Is that why you did it? Made me one of your band members. Was your decision based on some kind of pity or something?”

“No! Ofcourse not. I really do thing you’re a fantastic player. You even got P’Kim’s approval, which is by far one of the hardest things to do in this world. Trust me. So, no, I didn’t offer you the gig out of pity. But, I can’t say I’m not extremely excited to have you in my band, either. Seeing as you kinda jumpstarted this whole thing, I’m happy you also get to share in the glory.

The sun had just begun its descent from the skies, and as much as he wanted to accept the warmth of August's words, he knew he'd lost the right to the second he'd made that phone call.

"I--I don't know what to say..." Palm muttered, looking down at his hands.

"Then don't say anything. Just do. Prove to me, and Kim and everyone else that we made the right decision by choosing you to be the first member of the band."

"But--I... What about work? What about Bright?" Palm grasped, hoping one of his desperate pleas for release would stick. "I didn't think this through properly. No, I didn't. I rushed into it, and wasted all of y'alls time, and I'm so sorry. I really don't think I can do this..."

"Hey, Palm!" August said, absent-mindedly placing his hand on the other boys thigh. "Don't freak out on me now, man. We can do this. YOU can do this."

"No, no I can't. You don't understand." Something bad is about to happen to you and it's all my fault. It's all my fault, August, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. "I have two jobs. I have my family relying on me. I don't have the time to squeeze in all the practice times, and the schedules, and--and everything else that come with the job. I didn't think it through, August. I'm sorry."

"Ah, this is about money, isn't it." August said with a sigh of relief. "Don't worry. This is legit. Kim, Korn, they're legit. My music is having a great run on the radio stations. I have gigs booked into the next two months. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm no Jay Chou, but there's more than enough money coming in. Once you go to the office on Monday like P'Kim instructed and sign the contract, the monthly salary will be deposited into your account on the first of each month as with the other band members. And that's not taking into consideration the cut from the live gigs, and our individual percentages of the royalties... Point is, Palm, show up on time, play like you did today, and listen to P'Kim's advice, and I can promise you that money will never be something to lose sleep over again for any of us."

Palm looked up at that, his heart sweeping with the atomic combination of hope, gratitude and guilt.

GUILT.

"Tsk. You've barely released two songs and you're already bragging about how rich you are." Palm said, giving him a weary smile, praying it was enough to disguise the stench of betrayal exuding from his lips.

"Har-har. Laugh all you want now, but I've seen first-hand what P'Kim can do. We are under the care of one of Thailand's best management firms. See what she has been able to do for Ngern's career in less than five years."

Palm's smile wavered at the mention of that name. "Even though she's not our direct handler, she still oversees everything that happens in the firm. And if today is any indication, she's keeping her eyes on us. That alone is enough for us to succeed big time."

"But--August, there's something, I... I..."

"It's okay. I know. The first of next month is still a bit away, right? Don't worry about it. Once you turn in your resignation, tomorrow, stop by the front desk on your way out. Will 30K be enough to hold you and your family until the month end?"

Palm's eyes grew wide as he inferred what August was saying.

"Y-Yes..." The taxi suddenly jolted to a stop, and to Palms surprise, they were parked right in front of his family home. "I--I don't know how to thank you."

"Don't. You deserve this and everything else that comes from it. It's about time good things start happening to good people, and you are one of the best I know."

Palm waved goodbye as the taxi pulled away before digging his hands into his pockets. He pulled out his wallet, and looked through it, thanking the heavens that he still had a few baht bills in it. Barely enough to get him to and back from Haus, surely. Yes, he was exhausted, but he knew  he needed to right the wrong he'd done. Maybe it wasn't too late. He was still the only one with direct access to the camera and the footage. If he could stop it now before it went out of , then he could save himself from the seemingly inextinguishable vacuum of guilt that hovered over his head.

*****

What had he gotten himself into?

Palm.

How had he allowed himself to be pulled so far off course because of his petty jealousy? He cared for August. He really, truly did. And to some extent he could have even argued that all he had done had been for the benefit of August, but that was before and this was now. This wasn’t for August’s benefit. If anything, all it would do is hurt him. More so than anything else. Palm knew this. He knew it with every fiber of his being. So as he walked the rest of the distance from the taxi cab and into Haus, he knew exactly what he had to do to remove himself from the downhill predicament he now found himself on. He had to make it all right.

He had to.

It was still too early in the evening for the nightly crowd to be congregated in front of the nightclub, and he knew Por would be bustling about with the rest of the employees trying to get the place ready. He’d picked this specific environment so as to avert the argument he felt coming his way, since it was Por’s place of employment.

“The nightclub doesn’t open until 08:30.” A hoarse voice called out. It was the guard at the main entrance. He towered over Palm and his stare was menacing.

“I-I know, I’m not here for the club, I just wanted to chat with a friend, it’s all. He works in there.” Palm gulped.

“A Haus employee? Who?”

“P-Por, he’s a bartender.”

“Ah, that little sissy,” the guard’s eyes softened, “Yeah, I know who that is but I still can’t let you in without proper authorization. Sorry, boss’ orders. But I can call him out for you if you want.”

“I-Is there really no way I can speak to him? Just one minute. Please, one minute and I’ll be on my way. I promise.” Palm figured he had nothing to lose by begging. If he was lucky the menacing looking guard would step aside to allow him in, if not…

“Urgh!” The guard huffed, irritated. “Two minutes. Two. And if you’re not back out here by then I’m dragging your @ss out like a ragdoll. Understood?”

 Palm nodded, swallowing another healthy dose of saliva to keep from squirming. He couldn’t have been happier when the guard pulled open the door that led him down a narrow black-walled hallway and into the club.

Even without all its flashing lights going off, the club did look spectacular. It had an incredible futuristic feel to it, thanks to its modern art deco design, and Palm couldn’t help but wonder how much Por and the other crew must have been getting paid.

The crew members busied about, all dressed uniformly. The guys wore slim-fitted black trousers and white shirts, and the girls wore tightly fitted dresses that clung to their upper thighs and made no effort in concealing their ample cleavage. They all looked so chic. Unlike Palm who was still dressed in his Butler-drab.

"Excuse me." Palm said, reaching out to grab the arm of one of the employees hurrying about.

"What?" The guy asked rudely, looking Palm over suspiciously.

"Can you please direct me to where Por is?"

"Por? The bartender?" The guy asked, Palm nodded eagerly. "Hmm, let me see, where in a bar could the bartender possibly be? Oh, here's an idea, how about... the bar!" He gasped as if shocked by his own thinking, no doubt as a form of mockery to Palm. "Now, if you'd excuse me, some of us have to do."

With that he rolled his eyes and walked away.

"Palm?" Palm swiveled around to see Por walking towards him with a big grin on his face.

"H-Hey, Por. Wassup?" He managed nervously, wringing his hands together.

"I should be asking YOU that. What brings you here?" Por asked standing temptingly close enough for Palm to get a heady wiff of his Axe body spray.

Focus, Palm. You're here for one reason only. Just focus on it.

"D-do you have a minute? I wanted to talk to you about something."

“Can it wait, I’m a bit busy right now. We open in a two hours and I have to finish inventory, and stocking. It’s a weekend so we’re definitely going to be jam-packed…”

“It should only take a second. Please, Por.”

“Fine, come with me.” Por led Palm away from what must have been the dance floor to a lounging area. On the far corner of the wall sprawled the grand bar stand. Hundreds of varying assortments of liquor were on display through the sleek glass cabinets.

 “Cool, right?” Por said, throwing a wink towards Palm.

“Yeah, very cool. You operate this all by yourself?” Palm asked.

“Of course, I’m the master chef here, and this is my kitchen.”

“Tsk. I see your head hasn’t gotten any smaller.” Palm teased. “They must pay you a fortune.”

“Eh, the pay is good enough, I guess, but I definitely deserve a raise for all the sh*t I do.”

They walked past the bar stand and through a door tucked away just behind it, then further down a twisting narrow hallway, passing other employees.

“Wow, this feels like some kind of super spy facility, with all these winding hallways.” Palm joked.

“That’s precisely the idea. We get a lot of celebrity clients, so, these hallways were built for their convenience. From here they can go directly to the bar area, start their tab, then go upstairs to the VIP lounge areas without being hounded by any crazy stalker fans.” Por explained. “That’s why I like it here so much.”

“Why? The secret passageways?”

“No, dummy, the VIP clientele. On any given day your bound to run into some pop princess or a record label. I’m a struggling music producer, making connections is what it’s all about, and working here puts the best of the business right at my fingertips.” Por said, leading them down a passageway that led to a single door. The overhead sign on the door read EXIT. “Sometimes they even let me DJ on the slower days. I haven’t been able to talk the supervisor into allowing me play my own tracks, but it’s only a matter of time.”

“Is that how you met her? The reporter.”

“What reporter?”

“The girl… Aim?”

“Oh, right. The magazine reporter. Yeah, that’s how I met her.” Palm wasn’t sure why, but he felt like he wasn’t getting the full story, but he bit his tongue and pretended ignorance.

“Okay, enough of the small chat. I don’t have all day, so what’s up?” Por asked, pushing open the door and walking out, with Palm on his heel.

“I-I... it’s about the deal.” Palm said, bracing himself.  “I want out.”

“Palm…” Por begun to say, but Palm raised his hand to stop him from saying anymore.

“I mean it, Por. I want out. I thought I could do it, but I see now that I can’t. I can’t just pry into someone’s life like that Por. It’s not right.”

“Not right? Not right?! Right… what’s right is you and your mom and sister being forced to live in that raggedy house, right? Or is it me watching all these untalented @ssholes coming through here and making rubbish diva demands just because they were born with diamond encrusted spoons in their mouth? This isn’t about what’s fair and what’s not.  It’s about survival for the fittest, I thought by now you’d have learned that.”

“I understand that, I really do, but how are we better than those @ssholes if we decide to stoop to their level, Por. You’re asking me to spy on someone and report to some reporter. It’s an invasion of his privacy and it’s not fair!”

“So what? I do it all the time anyways. How do you think I could afford to move out of my apartment and open my own studio? All these celebrity magazine and blogs are willing to pay a fortune just for you to say a few words.” Por huffed as if disappointed in Palm. “Look, do whatever you want. It’s your life. But opportunities like these don’t come often Palm. Think about it, man. What are the chances that of all places on this earth, one of the biggest stars happened to move right into the building you work in. What are the chances that you get to have direct access to him at his most intimate setting? Then out of the blue we bump into each other after YEARS and I just happen to have the perfect hookup to helping you earn a fortune? I don’t believe in fate or any of that bull crap, but if it really does exist, then it doesn’t get more fateful than this. So, think about this long and before you walk out.

"There's nothing ot think about, Por. I've made up my mind. I'm out." Palm said digging his hands into his jeans. "Please, just give me a month to gather up enough money to pay you back for the camera. I promise I should have your money by then."

+++++

It was a little over six when Aim got the call from Por. He was livid as he tried to explain to her what had just happened. The bastard had backed out. After she'd promised him over fifty thousand baht to do the simplest thing, he'd chickened out. Never mind, it didn't spell half as much of a cry for alarm as Por thought it did. She had more more cards up her sleeve, and had no inhibitions using them to move her plans along.

It was funny, really, that after so many years and so much planning, everything would start falling into place so easily. She'd almost given up. She'd almost settled for the simpler life with August, but then he'd introduced her to the world, the better things of life. His status had opened so many doors for her, and for the time being, she'd been grateful, maybe even in love, but as it was with all good things, that had come to an end.

She'd first started seeing the cracks in their relationship after he'd allowed his family to talk him into taking a break from his career to focus on school. She never quit understood the sense behind the reasoning, but then again, he was of a different breed as her. She had grown up in a small village, far removed from any of at thailand's major cities, and had hated every part of it. For starters, she had been the odd girl out. Too tall, too skinny, not shapely enough and shy. None of the boys had ever thought of Aim as attractive, and she'd come to think so of herself as well. If her mothers life was anything to go by, then she was destined from birth to be coerced into an arranged marriage with a farm-head, with whom she'd had been expected to churn out as many kids as a fowl would lay eggs, age prematurely, and die with nothing more than her underfed children and a life filled of what ifs to show for it.

That wasn't an option.

She knew she could do more. She knew she had more to offer than that. Atleast that's what she told herself every night before she cried herself to sleep.

Then he came along. Moan. He was the bad boy from the big city whose press nice caused a stir in their small hut-saddled community. He used foul language and laughed too loud, and smoked openly, and made all the girls swoon.
But most importantly, he had his eyes set on Aim. He was flirtatious and cunning, and filled her head with stories of the city life.

"You're the prettiest in this god-forsaken village." He'd said one night, in between puffs of cigarette stick. "If you were in Bangkok, you'd be a making a killing as a model, you know that? Come to the city with me, Aim. This village isn't for you. You don't fit in here, you know this just as much as I do."
That night, there, under the stars, Aim had let him into her. It was a story for the fairytales.

It was a fairytale.

It wasn't until his months long school break had ended and he'd packed up and left at she found out Prune three shacks down was pregnant with his baby. It was one of Aims first great lessons. Prince Charming didn't exist, she was the only one who could save herself.
She was only fifteen.

*****
"I should have known he wouldn't go through with it. He doesn't have the balls. He never did." Por said walking into the apartment and throwing tossing his bag on the floor. It was past seven A.M. And the Aim had just woken up.

"Ugh, keep your voice down, Por. I was out all night for an event and I think I had a bit too much to drink. My head feels like it's about to explode."

"We gave that little over Fifty thousand baht and he's not taking the bait. Our whole plan revolved around us getting incriminating evidence to use against Ngern to get them to play nice. If we don't have the necessary footage, how the hell are we supposed to blackmail them? " Por paced back and forth in the tiny tiny space of the living room Aim had once shared with her ex-boyfriend August. She plop on the couch, yawning and stretching, I disturbed.

"Why aren't you freaking out about this? We had a deal, I help you get what you want, you string me up with you when you're flying high, remember?"

"Ofcourse I remember Por, I was the one who proposed it in the first place." Aim snapped, irritably.

"Then why aren't you freaking out about this?"

"Because it's already done. We don't need your little friend anymore. I already got what I needed from him."

"Which was?"

"To plant the camera in Ngerns house." aim said, reaching across the table to pick up her phone, which she proceeded to typing away on.

"Aren't you listening to anything I've said. Palm is backing out. He refusing to release the footage of the camera to anyone and if we can't get the camera, how the hell are we supposed to access the memory?"

"Like this." Aim said, turning her phone screen towards Por. Displayed on the screen was a weirdly angled view of a beautifully decorated apartment,duplex, with light pouring in from one corner so intensely that the images were blurred.

"Are you seriously apartment hunting right now while I'm trying to have a serious conversation about both our futures?" Por muttered, exasperated.

"Don't be stupid, we both now I can't afford a place like that!

"Then why are you showing it to me?"

"I guess I have to spell it out for you." Aim said, rolling her eyes. "It's a live feed from Ngern's apartment, Por. The camera was a cloud cam. The footage isn't stored on a hard drive, it's saved in the cloud. We don't need your little friend to give us anything. He's already served his purpose."

Por, stunned, finally took a seat as he begun connecting the dots.

"But, what if he disconnects the camera? I highly doubt he's just going to leave it there forever. We still need our bargaining chip which we won't get if he disconnects the damn thing."

Aim leaned back on the couch with a vicious smile on her face and a cocked eyebrow. She looked like a python sizing its prey.

Por shuddered.

"Oh, don't worry about that, Por. We have more than enough to bring Ngern to his knees."