Gemsicuted

Written by Julian Robov


Fourteen

It was a Friday evening. Some had gone to the Chantaburi gem market in the morning, while others preferred to leave on Saturday morning to carry the stones they couldn’t sell. It was the norm. And the ones who had no stones or business remained in Bangkok. So naturally going to The Redd’s became a ritual when they had nothingelse to do other than relax and update the latest info.
“Give me one Singha beer, please. How come the bar is crowded today?” Charley Che took his seat glancing at others. Another whining gem dealer from Hong Kong!
“The usual weekend crowd, familiar faces, good business,” Mike said smilingly.
“Not us. The business is too bad,” Che complained.
“What’s the matter, Che?” Mike asked.
“This bloody stone business sucks. We don’t know anythingelse. I wish I had learned somethingelse to make a living. This family business crap is reducing us to beggars,” Che said frustratingly.
“He is right, Mike. All our friends have the same view. Finish, Finish, Finished! The gavel is on our head and balls, the way business is going,” William Sparrow, a Kiwi commented.
“Is it that bad, Sparrow?” Mike Chan asked, waving at the regulars who took their seats in front of the tele to watch world cup soccer play.
“I can tell you, our balls are shrinking like those dried blueberries. The big fish are eating the small too fast. Can’t survive with so many choices for women today. We can’t compete with them. I mean their prices are fucking crazy. We can’t afford to survive if this is gonna be the trend in the coming years. Off to the temple. We all have families for heaven’s sake. How are we going to feed them? Just this polluted air and filthy sand?” Che seconded Sparrow, a London dealer.
“This business is cyclic, isn’t it? It will turnaround,” Mike reasoned, pouring Singha beer into his glass.
“It’s not like the old days, Mike. It was so much easier and personal. Now it’s all bloody computers, price lists, Harvard, and Stanford nerds. They have changed the whole traditional landscape, you know, into commodities like soybeans and sugar. No more romance and personal relationship! You show a stone today, they want an instant discount of ninety percent and three months fucking credit like buying a stolen car. How are we gonna survive? We all have now turned into some sort of jaded magicians, you know. I’m not kidding. This is an illusion business. What do we have here? And our customers! Women! Now that tells you how damn difficult it is to convince these dames; a good color. Ninety percent of the precious rubies are for women. That’s where the money is. Color! Next, does this bloody stone have a good pleasing face? Just like a woman’s face. A Virgin Mary or a beautiful woman’s face! The stone must have a perfect, colorful face with no reason to bargain. How many of those types exist today? How many Virgin Mary’s exist today? They do exist, if you search, as long as people like Rubyhall’s, Sanders, and Winston’s don’t meddle with the price, source, and small folk like us. Their hands have stretched to all known holes in the world where these suckers come, and we can’t get anywhere closer. We still can’t survive. But look at their greed. They have all sorts of other businesses and we small ones only one hole. The Hole of Bangkok! They have consolidated their position by cutting our limbs like sausages. How can we compete with these living dinosaurs? They are swallowing us with one gulp. Wow! Look at that doll,” Sparrow got distracted. “Look at her bottoms, like a perfect cabochon cut ruby. Je-ez, do we have women like this in Bangkok? Mike how come you didn’t tell us that there are chicks like the ones over there. You see that one over there. My goodness! Holy shape! What a woman!”
Mike knew more than anyone else the gem dealers who frequented his bar. And he was a good listener. It was good for his business as well as for the relationship. The gem dealers liked it. He had a skill in keeping them under control.
“She is a mom for Christ’s sake. That’s Lord’s wife. The group comes regularly during the weekend just to relax and let it go,” Mike said, while gesturing his daughter, Tan, to take care of them.
“Let it go? What the hell that means, uh?” Che asked, quite puzzled.
“Let go the pressures of the week, I mean.” Mike responded with a smile.
“I see. I know what you mean. Lucky ones! Look at our boring wives. Only bloody complaints when we get back home. Screaming with bills and what not. No sex, nothing,” Sparrow said, rising out his chair.
“How can you think about sex when your business is down every week? Even if she wants a quickie, I’m not ready, know what I mean? It’s the workload. But look at those women over there. I’ve yet to see my wife smiling like that. Is her body real? Too perfect,” Che asked meekly.
“Well, it is perfect. Exercise, diet, and good husbands, I suppose,” Mike opined.
“Lucky those.” Che said bluntly.
“Mike, how is your business?” Sparrow poured Singha beer into Mike’s empty glass.
“It’s going okay. Surviving like you guys.” Mike replied piously.
“Surviving? It’s a fucking funny word today,” Che quipped.
Everyone laughed.
“Have you seen Miko and Tito?” Sparrow asked leaning back.
“Last week they were here, right over there their usual place. Must be busy with their clients.” Mike suggested.
“You bet. Funny guys. I like them. Sometimes, the younger chap. What’s his name?”
“Miko!” Mike replied.
“Well, Miko, he can be really funny with his bloody tattoo, cocky eyes, and doggy tongue. I like the guy. In fact, I like both of them. Good hearts and a solid team too. Harmless and shrewd! Give them my regards if they turn up any one of these days Mike,” Sparrow grinned.
“Sure.” Mike nodded.
“Already Mike, time to go. Check, please,” Che said. His eyes were still glued on Lord’s wife, and other women.