Noble Lies by Charles Benoit Read Free Book Online

deep breath.
    â€œThere’s a woman who works here, her name is Won. Do you know her?”
    The girl smiled a real smile, brighter and more attractive than the first. “Sure. Everyone know Won. She the best.” She reached out and took Robin’s hand, her fingers lost in Robin’s small palm. “Come.”
    The girl led them past the football fans and around the chain of island bars that dotted the dance floor to a large booth in the back, too brightly lit to interest the bar’s customers. Crowded on one side of the booth, three uniformed bar-beer girls held plastic bowls up to their chins, shoveling in wads of noodles with blurred chopsticks while crushed in next to them two more girls tapped out text messages on their mobile phones with electric-blue nails; a final girl, balancing a butt-cheek on the rattan bench, bobbed her head to the synthetic beat.
    Alone on her side of the booth, an old woman took a long drag on an American cigarette.
    She was thin and small, smaller than the tiniest girl in the bar, with skin as lined and wrinkled as a balledup roadmap. She wore her hair—or her wig—short and fire-red. She blew the smoke straight up out of the corner of her mouth, her cracked lips pressed tight together; and Mark noticed Robin staring at the woman’s long earlobes, dangling down like flattened fingers, heavy gold hoops hardly noticeable.
    â€œExcuse me,” Robin said, stepping into the light that pointed down from the ceiling to the center of the table. “We’re looking for Won. I mean we’re looking for a person named Won, not…”
    â€œStop,” the old woman said, holding up her hand, her cigarette pointing back at her nicotine-weathered face. “I hear every Won joke in the world, the last time I hear original it by Marine heading to Vietnam, so do not try.”
    â€œSailor Bill sends his regards,” Mark said.
    The old woman looked at him as she inhaled, the end of her cigarette glowing hot, then blew the smoke out toward the dangling light. She knocked a knuckle on the tabletop and shouted something at the row of girls as if they were a block away. They slid out of the booth and wandered toward the bar, noodle bowls and phones still in place. Won gave her wrist a flick, inviting them to sit, Robin sliding in, Mark taking the end.
    â€œSailor Bill, huh?” Won gave a smoky snort. “When he first got here he was Ski Bum Bill, then he was California Bill. One girl called him Big Dick Bill but she was new and she want him to buy her things. The best when we call him Dollar Bill. He spend the whole night talking some poor girl down ten bhat.” She laughed, somehow puffing on her cigarette at the same time. “He was fun. Then he got married.” She paused and took another puff. “Bastard.”
    Mark smiled. “My name’s Mark. This is Robin.” He reached across the table and shook her hand, her skin like warm leather. She smiled up at him as she ignored Robin’s outstretched arm. “Your English is better than mine,” he said. “Accent’s a bit heavy…”
    â€œI gotta brush up on my English. Gotta brush up on my German, too,” she said, pausing a beat before adding, “just as soon as he gets here.” She laughed again, and her face disappeared behind a cloud of blue-gray smoke. “This how you tell how long a girl’s been here. The better her English the longer she’s been bar-beer girl. I tell girls, don’t let on how much you know. Guys come in looking for sweet, farm-fresh virgin. They don’t want some worn out whore.”
    â€œInteresting. I was wondering if you can help me. I’m looking for my brother.” Robin pulled a photograph from her purse. “This is his picture.”
    Won looked across at Mark and raised an eyebrow. “She your wife, Mark?” Won gave her head a slight nod in Robin’s