Sumalee. Javier Salazar Calle

forth.

      “That’s my boy! Let’s tell Damaso and get organized.”

      I got up and we went to tell Damaso about the plans. This Saturday we'd be tearing down Singapore.

      The rest of the week seemed so long. Everyone around us was talking about that big party for Spaniards. Everyone made plans and laughed at the things they would do. The three of us and Diego went for a run a couple of afternoons in an intent to release tension and focus for a while on something else, but all the efforts were fruitless; and on top of it we pushed ourselves and our legs hurt the entire week. Even the corporate league basketball game was just an excuse to talk about the same thing.

      Saturday finally arrived. The party was late at night. So, in the morning I got up early and went to the gym for a while. The legs were done, but there was plenty to work on the arms. Then I went with Diego to a morning movie at the Golden Village Cinema, just a fifteen minutes’ walk from the office. The movie theatre had large seats, plenty of room to stretch your legs and occasionally they had classic film. They were playing some of the best sci-fi movies ever, and Diego and I had bought a pass for all of them. Re-watching Alien, Star Wars, Dune or Blade Runner on a giant screen was priceless. We were both fans of the genre.

      After the movie, that day it was the Matrix, we ate at a fast-food restaurant called Mos Burger, which, as the name suggests, specialized in burgers. It was Japanese burger week and they had some with very strange ingredients like soy sauce or miso. Anyway, I wasn’t too impressed. What happened to a good burger with barbecue sauce, cheese, tomato, and onion and not these rare experiments? Then we each went to our house to take a shower and get ready for the party, which was starting soon, at seven o'clock.

      When I got home, Damaso and Josele were getting ready enthusiastically. Josele was glued to the bathroom mirror with his little toupee that gave him the air of the "King" and Damaso was analysing the clothes in his closet so focused that he seemed to be playing the most difficult chess game in history. I showered and choose a fancy attire, but not too fancy. I didn't want to look out of place, but I also didn't want to look like a dandy. When we were all ready, we went down to the street, where the taxi we had ordered was waiting for us and went to the party. In fifteen minutes, we were at the door.

      The entrance was a glass structure with the words Avalon in fluorescent letters. It was right next to Marina Bay, so the view across the bay, including the skyscraper where we worked, was impressive, with all those tall buildings lit up. Not to say that it was better than the night views of Manhattan from Brooklyn, in New York. We arrived early, so there weren't yet too many people and we were able to choose a good place to sit. At parties, the same thing happens as in internet marketing. The three key factors were positioning, positioning, and positioning. Inside it had the air of an industrial ship and with all the lights and music reminded me of the cyberpunk movement, very similar to the setting of the film Blade Runner that Diego and I would go to see the following week. At the back, on a platform with lots of lights on the wall behind it which were randomly turning on and off, was the DJ plying electronic music or whatever they call it. His name didn't tell me anything, but music was not my forte. Better said, I had no clue. Anyway, he seemed well known here because when he was announced people went crazy.

      We were supposed to meet with our co-workers which gradually arrived until we were over twenty. However, Spaniards only five: Teresa, Damaso, Josele, Diego and me. I found it strange to speak English to my Spanish friends, but I did so out of courtesy to the rest of the people who did not speak Spanish. We drank and danced, laughed, and told funny stories of things that happened to them in the place. At the party, more than 80% of us were expats or at least looked like Westerners. Many of the groups were speaking Spanish.

      More Spaniards, that I did not know, joined our group. Two man and one woman. Damaso, of course, knew all of them and introduced them.

      “David, this is Nacho. I don't know if you've ever heard of a photographer named Ignacio Insua.”

      “No, but I'm not in the world of photography either.”

      “Well, anyway. It’s him. Josele met him at a photo exhibition a few weeks ago. In Spain he exhibited in several museums and art galleries. A well-known local actress noticed him, and he came here to make her a portfolio. Since then, he became the photographer of Singapore's celebrities and major events. Besides being a good golfer, of course.”

      “Delighted Nacho. I understand why you know Damaso. I hope to succeed here and that you can be my lead photographer, because in golf I don't think we will meet. I'm more of an action sports person.”

      “Of course. That would be great. A Spanish customer who can afford my not so moderate rates. Nice to meet you, David.”

      “You can always drive a boat for a photo shoot and get some extra money.”

      “Are you for real?” “Yes. Sometimes we make portfolios and ads on boats. I need a driver once in a while.”

      “Sure,” I said, smiling at the use of the word driver instead of pilot. “I have the Yacht Captain title. I love boating. You can count on me. I love everything that has to do with boats.”

      “I won’t forget.”

      Damaso continued with the presentations.

      “These two beautiful brunettes are a couple, and their names are Elena and Rachel. They own a gluten-free pastry shop.”

      “Hello, two kisses, right? What brings you to Singapore?”

      “We wanted to experience another country and we saw that here they had the same celiac as everywhere, but it turned out that they didn't have many shops for them,” Elena explained as I was giving Rachel two kisses.

      “I had a celiac friend in Madrid. Some of the sweets he ate were just as good as the normal ones. I couldn't tell them apart. I'll stop by your store one day to try them out.”

      “Whenever you want,” Rachel said. “Here's a card for you!”

      “Thanks. I see that you came prepared. I like that. And what's your name?” I said turning to the fourth. “I'm still David ...” I said smiling.

      “My name is Pamos, Juan Pamos,” he said, imitating the James Bond style.

      “Be careful with him, David,” Damaso warned me. “He's an opportunist. He is supposedly a stunt man, but I don’t know if he started his profession. His parents are wealthy entrepreneurs in the export field and he only parties and messes with as many girls as he can, whether they have a boyfriend or not. He only takes a break from the parties to golf with me and Nacho.”

      “Golf? It's clear how you've made your friends. Well, I'm alone here, without a partner, and I'm not a girl, so I have nothing to worry about. Maybe you can introduce me to some beautiful friend of yours...” I laughed hard.

      I chatted for some time with everyone, co-workers, and new acquaintances. Then, on a walk I took to the bathroom, a man with an English accent approached me and offered me some substance I was not familiar with but that was definitely some kind of drug. I rejected it sharply and went on my way. I had never taken drugs, even in my most rebellious days, nor did I want to start now. I did not like for anything to control my life and that was the typical path to becoming a slave to the daily dose. This was something I was firm about. I didn't smoke either, although I did start, but I had to quit because it was incompatible with the exercise I did, and even though I drank, I never let alcohol make me lose control. My friends sometimes teased me about it, especially Damaso, who was a champion in drinking, but I liked to feel in control. I was a little obsessive with it.

      When I came back, I offered to get drinks for Tere and my co-worker, the crazy Jerome. While at the bar waiting for a waiter to see me, a beautiful Thai-looking girl came next to me. She had dark, long, curly hair in two endless ponytails that hung on both sides of her head over her chest. She was wearing a green, cloth cap and a strap top of the same colour. Her round face and a beautiful smile were highlighted by a very soft red lipstick. Her eyes were dark brown, a little oriental, but not too much. She was pretty tall, probably close to a meter seventy and was thin. I couldn't