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I.
‘That’s right! Run away like the cowards that you are! Ha!’ Namping’s shouts penetrate the otherwise still air long after the three men escape into the night. Namping dusts off his hands in a very visible fashion, one against the other as if to signal another job well done.
Next to him, Net can only sigh.
Truth be told, Net has sort of grown fond of his charge. In fact, judging from the amount of interest the Boss takes in his insignificant self-appointed protector of the Chai Prakan district, Net is beginning to think that he may just be looking after the future Madam. But of course, he’d never say this out loud to anyone. He likes his head attached to his neck and shoulders, thank you very much.
‘Did you see that, Net? That’s how it’s done,’ Namping turns around, a smug little smile on his face. He feels victorious, that’s for certain. ‘Don’t worry, one day you’ll be as good as me. Stick with me, we run this neighbourhood together.’
Never mind that Net is several years older than Namping, and yet the latter never once addressed him as Phi. Never mind that he’s forced to play Namping’s sidekick and yet it’s the Family tattoos displayed on his forearms, as well as the crest on his pistol that immediately scare off anyone who knows what’s good for them. From Chiang Rai to Sukhotai, everyone knows that the Buayoi mafia family owns the better part of Northern Thailand.
And yet, somehow this man who looks way younger than his 24 years of age, has managed to capture the Boss’s attention.
Net sends Namping’s way what he thinks is his best attempt at an awkward smile and nods.
He’s been doing this job for more than six month now and honestly, it could have been worse. Before he became Namping’s unofficial baby sitter, he followed Master Tle. Net does not really have a problem with violence and he long got used to breaking bones and drawing blood for the Family. But Master Tle is still on another level of brutal. Behind that calm, angelic looking face hides an unhealthy penchant for sadism. Net supposes that it is only inevitable because how else would he be able to handle Master First’s unhinged psychopathic personality? (Again, something that Net would never say out loud, not even under torture.)
So yes, Net prefers his current job where all he has to do is flash his tatts, and his gun, and people run away before he can as much as say the word. All that behind Namping’s literal back, of course. Poor lad still thinks he runs the show here.
‘Oi, Ping, let’s go get a soda,’ Net calls Namping over, as he turns around and leisurely starts walking towards the gas station two streets away. Privately, Net knows that he needs a smoke but Namping has also never refused a Dr. Pepper. If a gun wound won’t kill this daring and completely self-unaware mother fucker, then the three Dr. Peppers a day eventually will.
But more importantly, Net knows that the Boss is probably already waiting for them there, puffing out his own cigarette at the main door as he’s scrolling through yet another document on his phone. Boss is the front of the Family’s legitimate business while Master Tle basically runs the underground though in reality, both of them control the syndicate together. Net doesn’t actually know which one of them is more terrifying so when one of them tells him to jump, he merely asks how high.
‘Ai Keng! We keep running into each other lately. Look, Net, it’s my bro!’ Even after all this time, Net can’t help but grimace a little, every time he hears Namping address the Boss as anything but Boss.
Master Tle is Master Tle. But Master Harit is just Boss.
Yet, every time Net thinks that this might be it, this will be the time Namping has taken it too far with the excessive familiarity and careless attitude, something akin to amusement merely flicks in the Boss’s eyes and he replies with,
‘Phi.’
The first time Net heard the Boss call Namping Phi, he felt blood drain from his face and he immediately looked away, feeling dreading discomfort.
In fact, the first time Namping and Net met the Boss at this little gas station, Net did not yet grasp the whole situation. He stiffened at the sight of his superior, not knowing how to behave or what to expect. He had been unofficially assigned to follow Namping only two weeks before that so when the Boss eventually showed up, Net sort of thought that maybe the time has come for him to get rid of Namping while the Boss watched, entertained. Net remembers thinking that it would be a shame because in the two weeks that he spent following and helping the younger, he grew almost fond of him.
But before Net could react, it was Namping who called out a greeting to the man standing at the corner, smoking his extremely expensive cigarette.
‘You’re still around. I never caught your name that time,’ Namping said, chewing on his toothpick, completely unbothered and like he owned the place. Nothing fazed him – not the burgundy Lamborghini standing right in front of them, not the dark grey Valentino suit the Boss had on and not even the darkness of the Boss’s eyes.
Without missing a beat, the Boss only replied with, ‘Keng.’
Only Master Tle and Master First ever called the Boss that. But now, the Boss of the Buayoi mafia had suddenly become Ai Keng to Namping, the orphaned wannabe hoodlum.
‘I saved him one time,’ Namping explained off-handedly, like it was no big deal.
‘You… did?’ Net couldn’t help but ask with great surprised and chanced a glance at the Boss. He saw the other stare right at him, as if to dare Net to say otherwise. Net immediately looked at away and repeated, ‘You did.’
‘Some thugs harassed him at this very station. They ran way the moment I showed up, though,’ Namping shrugged.
I’m sure they did, Net thought to himself sourly. The Chai Prakan district of Chiang Mai is small and rather rural – the Family hardly ever has any business here so Net is not sure how the Boss had even found himself here in the first place. Regular people might have heard of the Buayoi mafia but their lives were probably not overly disrupted by their turf wars. Nevertheless, any truly seasoned criminal would immediately recognise their tattoos, and their crest – like the one discreetly displayed on the Boss’s car plates.
Later on, Net happened to overhear the whole story which was exactly like what he had imagined – the thugs indeed recognised the mafia’s insignia, and Namping simply found himself in the right place at the right moment to take the credit. Kind of like he has always been doing with Net’s presence behind him.
‘Don’t worry, Phi’s got your back,’ Namping added, patting the Boss’s shoulder in a comforting manner. The Boss’s gaze followed the movement, before he looked up and responded with a deadpan,
‘Sure, Phi.’
Since that day, almost half a year has passed. Net has not been reassigned to any other jobs and so he keeps showing up in this part of town every morning, following Namping around openly. Sometimes they just loiter around, passing the time until some sort of trouble finds them; more often, Namping is working odd part time jobs while having brazen shouting contests with the owners of breweries, warehouses and any other places that would have him. With all of them, he has a love-hate relationship. It’s clear that many help him on the account of knowing his late parents but they are also frustrated with his short temper and impudent attitude.
Sometimes Net helps him, out of boredom or maybe a strange sense of obligation. He doesn’t get paid. But anyway, there’s barely any money in it.
Net has only been to Namping’s rundown house one time and, ‘The roof is leaking, Boss,’ He said on one of the rare occasions the Boss asked. ‘It’s pretty damp in there. Just stacks of instant ramen and a can of Dr. Pepper if he can afford the treat.’
The Boss looked at him for a few seconds before he took out a wallet from the inside pocket of his jacket and handed Net all the banknotes he had in there. It was a stack of roughly 300 000 baht.
Net was not dumb. Since then, he has secretly made some repairs to the house, often invited Namping out to eat and there is always a wad of petty cash magically appearing in Namping’s pocket. Namping doesn’t question it because quite frankly, he is not very good with money. As far as he’s concerned, it comes and it goes.
And in recent weeks, the nightly visits to the gas station have also become more and more frequent. Sometimes, Net gets a text message to bring Namping around and sometimes, he simply has a hunch that he should be headed in that direction. Sometimes, they don’t see the burgundy Lamborghini, but more often than not, they do. Net didn’t get it at first but now he thinks he does – this is becoming extremely personal.
If the Boss were his friend, Net would be teasing him already. But since the Boss is decidedly not his friend, he only lowers his gaze and takes a small step back to give way for their interactions.
Tonight is the same.
‘Let Phi buy you something to drink,’ Namping announces as he enters the shop. The Boss puts away the cigarette with the toe of his expensive leather shoe and follows him. Net concludes the strange procession. ‘How old are you anyway? I never asked you.’
‘Thirty-one.’
This finally gets a reaction out of Namping. Not exactly embarrassed, but he still looks the Boss up and down, smiling somewhat awkwardly.
‘Ah,’ Naming lets out a short, breathy laugh. ‘Then I guess no need to call me Phi. I guess we’re just friends,’ he adds shameless, as if he himself isn’t seven years younger. ‘Do you like fizzy drinks?’ he changes the topic fast, opening the fridge at the back of the shop.
‘They’re not good for your body,’ the Boss replies, taking out a bottle of juice instead. Namping shrugs.
‘Sugar helps when you feel down.’
‘Are you feeling sad?’ The Boss looks at Namping inquisitively. Namping shrugs again.
‘What can I say? Life is hard, bro.’
Net cringes at the bro. He knows that it’s his own fault – they spend so much time together than Namping has naturally adopted this particular expression of his.
Net knows that this name strikes a chord. The Boss probably does not want to be bro-zoned just like that. Net is right.
‘Call me Phi,’ The Boss finally replies, approaching the cash register and paying for both their drinks even though it was Namping who invited him. Namping says nothing to that, and only cheekily salutes him in thanks. He has no qualms accepting free food from anyone.
‘Sure thing, Phi Keng.’
II.
Keng Harit has never been good at sharing. It is probably the way that he was raised – an only child, close only with his immediate cousin Tle who has never been considered competition. Both of them naturally relied on each other when it came to the family business though privately, they could not be more different.
To be more precise, Keng has never had to share, regardless of what it is about. Things fall into his hands so naturally, in fact, that at a certain age he simply stopped actively wanting. He has his ambitions, everyone does, but the greed is mostly about the company. Building the name for the Buayoi conglomerate while keeping in check all the not so legal loose strings. People mostly bore him and quite frankly, he has no patience for initiating human connections with unfamiliar people.
At least, that’s what he thought until roughly six months ago. Right now, Namping Napatsakorn rolls off the tongue quite nicely.
‘Daydreaming about that little rabbit again?’ It’s Nong First who speaks as soon as he enters the room, a teasing note in his voice. Keng turns around in his armchair, where he has indeed been stuck on the same page of the trade contract for far too long. He sends Nong First a pointed look.
Phi Tle follows through the door right after. The two of them are rarely separated.
‘Everything went alright today?’ Keng’s questions are usually general – he trusts Phi Tle to handle things, and to clean up Nong First’s messes if needed.
‘It’s settled,’ Phi Tle confirms, taking a seat on the sofa, next to his cousin’s armchair. Nong First grabs a bottle of water from the minibar behind them before he joins his husband.
‘Five people initially opposed,’ Nong First adds, dramatically wagging the fingers of his left hand. Only then does Keng notice the specs of red on one side of Phi Tle’s shirt collar. ‘But then there was no more opposition.’ Nong First finishes cheerfully, taking a sip of his water and making himself more comfortable. The leather seating squeaks under him.
Keng nods once, averting his eyes to the window. He has never questioned their methods.
Phi Tle’s looks are deceiving. Unlike Keng’s brooding appearance which has always earned him both admiration and fear, the reaction to Phi Tle’s clean handsome face is always initially positive. He used to sometimes be downright disregarded, his gentle expression mistaken for inexperience and weakness. These days, it happens much less frequently because everyone who dared, is pretty much taken care of. Phi Tle is trigger happy, taking only just enough time to consider the fallout but since the Buayoi family has seized the third of the country, there isn’t much for Phi Tle to consider. No matter how many people he kills, few would be in a position to attempt revenge. Phi Tle puts away his gun as calmly as he takes it out and continues to smile, even with all the bodies on the floor.
Keng has witnessed it enough times to become immune. He has killed his way through his own fair share of obstacles but is not particularly prone to pointless violence. On the other hand, Phi Tle has no such qualms. He does not lose sleep over it, either.
‘What’s happening with that Nong?’ Phi Tle steers the conversation back to his husband’s original remark. When Nong First breeches the topic, it comes across as teasing. But when Phi Tle does it, his usual calm expression makes it difficult to frown at the probing.
Nevertheless, he still regrets he divulged even the little information about Namping that he did to the couple. Keng is not good at sharing.
‘Nothing. Why should there be anything?’ He mumbles, uncharacteristically to himself. He picks up the tablet but he’s not fooling anyone. Especially not Nong First.
‘I saw him last night,’ Nong First announces, pretending to not care but the glint in his eyes says otherwise. Keng cannot help but tilt his head just a little bit. That’s more than enough for Nong First. ‘We drove by that area by chance.’
‘By chance,’ Keng repeats in his typical deadpan voice but it only makes the couple laugh.
‘By chance. We were coming back from that gala in Chiang Rai. Then I maybe called Net to see where they were.’ Nong First adds slily before he pauses. Keng knows he’s fishing for attention.
Keng decides not to give in, though it’s hard. There shouldn’t be anything new with that rabbit next door, anyway. Haughty, brazen, hot-headed. Keng has never experienced it personally but on occasion, there’s a situation that he or Net will witness. Quite frankly, Keng really does not understand why he feels so drawn to Namping. He should be just another faceless person in the crowd and yet, before Keng fully realised, he had to acknowledge that he became involved to the point of no return. The only thing that stopped him from stepping in and taking what he wanted was the fact that for the first time in his life, he was worried about being rejected.
People don’t reject Keng. Not people who know their stakes. But Namping has little to lose and doesn’t seem much interested in potential gains. Although Keng can forcefully take what he desires, it somehow doesn’t seem very appealing.
Keng looks back to the couple on the sofa. These two are basically Keng’s only real family. Keng doesn’t know how he earned himself such unwavering loyalty from them but they are his ride or die. He, too, will pull the trigger on anyone who as much as gives them a side eye. But they are also obsessed with one another and at times, Keng questions if such obsession is healthy and if so, if it runs in the family. Since day one, Phi Tle has always been unconditionally devoted to Nong First. Phi Tle quite literally killed to be with his husband. Nothing that Nong First does can be wrong in Phi Tle’s eyes – not even when Nong First killed twice in the fit of irrational jealousy. After that, Phi Tle buried the bodies and took his husband on holiday just like it was any other day.
Keng doesn’t know if he should lose himself to that degree but for the first time in his life, he feels the urge. Right now, he is highly intrigued. He can’t help himself. With each day, it seems to consume him more. But Namping is decidedly not from his world. He fancies himself a criminal but he may not have the stomach for the real deal. Not like Keng’s cousin and his spouse.
Right now, Keng was taking care of Namping from afar, only occasionally showing up here and there, to satisfy his own greed. Greed for his affection, mostly. Nevertheless, he has already ordered Net to beat up a person who was hovering around Namping in a way that Keng considered too close.
III.
At least Net knows to bring Namping around, Keng thinks in mild appease as he looks in the direction of the newcomers. He was slowly getting irritated. He inhales the last of the cigarette smoke before putting out the butt with his shoe. He’s been standing at the corner of this oil station for almost a quarter of an hour and probably scared off a couple of cars already.
He supposes that in his dark suit, standing next to a blood red Mercedes with the Buayoi plates on display, he’s as much a picture of sophistication as he is danger.
‘Phi Keng,’ Namping salutes from afar. ‘Nice car.’
Keng is man enough to admit that he brings his new toys around to show off. Namping usually notices but not in the way that Keng would like him to. Namping doesn’t really seem attached to material possessions so while he admires, not an ounce of that admiration actually transfers onto Keng.
Keng gives a side glance to Namping’s shadow and sidekick Net who immediately looks away. Keng almost smirks.
‘Do you want to go for a ride?’ Keng suddenly asks, somewhat surprising even himself. His eyes revert back to Namping who lights up.
‘Can we, Phi?’
‘Do you drive often?’
‘Sure thing, Phi. I’m the best driver in this neighbourhood!’ Namping declares, already rounding the shape of the car to get to the driver’s seat. Keng catches the sight of Net who is frantically shaking his head in the background. Lies, all lies.
Oh well, if it’s Keng’s fate to die this way then so be it. He slides into the passenger seat.