The Smile

Hello there! I guess introductions are in order. I’m not going to bother with any names here. I’m probably known by more names than you might care to remember.

  

But a little background on yours truly.  In my circles, I’m known as The Smile (yes, I’m that awesome). I could have gotten a day job, but really, what’s the fun in that? In my profession, you have to be really chilled out, a smooth talker, confident… you know, like that James Bond fellow. I am a grifter and pull low profile jobs at high profile night clubs across Goa, three nights a week, rotating amongst the list of hunting spots. Most people we hit are so drunk, they have no idea that they’ve been fleeced until the next day, when they (totally hungover) realize that they’re missing their damn Rolex!

Coming back to the story, it was the month of March. Business is generally low this time of the year since there are not a lot of premium targets around. Most of the crowd is just a bunch of juvenile college blokes who come to Goa for cheap booze and women. But occasionally, you do get lucky enough to come across some pompous idiot flaunting the Armani shirts or the Gucci shoes.

So here I was, at this shack party at the Anjuna, where the over enthusiastic DJ was acting like he was something from Tomorrow Land while he pumped the place with senseless EDM. Now, there are 2 type of people at club parties: The Dancers and the Bar Stool Warmers. I like to focus on the latter. Their inhibited state and total willingness to pay extra for the alcohol made them easy game. This night was no different. 

It was only 1am and I had already got myself a big fat wallet, a nice looking pair of Raybans and two identical diamond rings which I had managed to get off a pair of tipsy honeymooners. Things were looking promising. I sat down at the bar and ordered myself a glass of Glenfiddich. I like to enjoy the finer things in life, besides, I had done good that night.

Then I saw her. I was kind of surprised I hadn’t noticed her before. She seemed to be alone. I don’t want to sound shallow here, but as she stood there at the bar in that perfect black dress and with the perfect curly black hair and those pretty brown eyes, she looked a BOMB! Now I generally have all sorts of rules when I’m at work, and the number one rule was : Do Not interact with the women, no flirting whatsoever, unless she is a mark. There are too many distractions as it is in my line of work and this woman right now was ticking all the boxes. 

But there was something about her. I just had to talk to her. I had enough loot for the night anyways, so I reasoned that a little fun couldn’t hurt.

“Gods! I wish the DJ would be more creative with his music” I said as I sat on the barstool next to her.

She looked at me with those big eyes, as if studying me. Gosh! She had pretty eyes!

“I think he is doing rather well” she said. “You either know nothing about EDM or are just trying to small talk. So which one is it?”

I sighed almost dramatically and smiled my prize winning smile. “Guilty on both accounts I’m afraid. 

So if I may ask, what are you doing here all alone?”

“My boyfriend is just outside parking his car. It’s a lot of trouble finding a parking spot. So really, I don’t want to waste your time. ”

“Well he seems to be taking a while. How about I buy you a drink while we wait? I’m sure your boyfriend won’t mind”. It was a long shot, but the night was young and I was sure as hell that the boyfriend thing was just a cover.

It was the way she looked at me then. Not in that “You are interesting and your smile makes me go loony” look. It was more like “You’re-an- interesting- specimen –and- I- would- like-to- cut you open- to find out why” look. But I was too much into her at the time to care. That was me breaking my second rule : Never ignore your instincts.

“One drink” she said as she smiled at me, “Just cause you’re so nice”.

I ordered Vodka with Orange Juice for her as I enjoyed my scotch (Don’t really know what is it with women and Vodka. It’s like a universal bar drink for the womenfolk).

“So you wanna tell me your name?” I asked.

“Lets just keep it simple, shall we? No names. I’m really into the mystery and enigma sort”

“Weird”, I though. But whatever. I was secretly hoping that her boyfriend (if at all there was one) would not find a parking spot for some time. She seemed pretty cool. We spoke about lots of things over the vodka. Then we ordered another. And another. Then another. As we giggled observing a couple dance awkwardly on the dance floor, I looked at my new Hublot which I had snitched a few days ago from a shack at the Baga.

“3 am!” I exclaimed, “Seems your boyfriend ditched you!”

“Oh gimme a break!” she responded winking at me, “You knew all along that I was here all alone. I like to come here for a drink sometimes. I stay not far from here. I work at the Westin as a sous-chef. And I don’t have many friends here. Just my luck right? I stay in probably the coolest place in the country, and still manage to make it suck.”

“We can’t have that now, can we?” I said and extended my hand to her. “How about a dance? That should cheer you up. I’m told I am pretty good.”

“I don’t even know you. Why on earth would I want to dance with you?”

“Aw c’mon!! We’ve been talking for nearly 3 hours now!” I exclaimed. “And besides, it’s just a dance. No hanky panky. Swear to God.” I said raising my palm.

 “I’m not a good dancer” she said as she looked down at her feet, “I’ll probably end up stepping on your foot and breaking your toe or something.”

“I think I’ll take my chances with that” I said smiling as I took her hand and led her to the dance area.

Now if you’ve ever been to a shack party in Goa, you’d know that the dance floor is like a mini and a less brutal version, of a mosh pit with people standing real close to each other dancing the weird dance moves as they listen to the trance music. One might say that such a place would be ideal for pick pocketing, but the real deal is that, where there are too many people, there are too many eyes. And if even one pair of eye catches you, your game is up. 

So I generally refrain from working on the dance floor unless I am pretty sure the crowd is just too high (rave parties anyone?) to notice.

So me and this beautiful chick, whose name I still did not know, went onto the dance area and started dancing to the music along with the hundred others. Occasionally we’d bump into someone else, and laugh and move away to bump into somebody else. Admittedly, she was a REALLY bad dancer.

After nearly fifteen minutes of dancing and endlessly crashing into others and each other, we finally decided to leave. Hand in hand, we moved back towards the bar laughing at our own awkward dance moves and joking about how many toes we must have stepped on today.

“Thanks for the good time” she said to me as we came to the bar area. “But I have to leave now. I’m dead beat. Whew!”

“ No, thank you!” I said. There was some small commotion on the dance floor. I looked towards there to see what it was all about, but then I noticed that she was already heading towards the parking lot. I ran and caught up to her and shouted “Wait!!”. She turned around, eyes wide. I ran upto her and asked for her hand. 

She looked at me with suspicion (I was a stranger at the club afterall) but extended her palm. I took out my pen (Cross, nicked 2 weeks ago) and scribbled my number on it.

“I know it might be weird for me to ask you for your number” I said, “So here is mine. Let me know if you’re ever feeling bored again. I’m sure we can do something fun like this”

She smiled a real toothy smile “You’re sweet” she said as she kissed me on the cheek “Maybe I will call you” winking at me she got into her car. I just stood there and watched her car’s tail lights disappear into the night. Which was about when I felt a tug on my collar. One of the bouncers pulled me back and I only had the time to see an angry crowd behind him before he punched the living daylights out of me.

Well kids, that was the end of The Smile. Two hours later, there was a police van outside the club with me handcuffed in the back with a black eye. They had taken all the stuff I had nicked from my coat pocket. But I couldn’t understand. How did they catch me? I was pretty sure I hadn’t let anything slip. I sat slumped at the back of the van, and herd the police men talking amongst themselves

“Did you get all the stuff off him?”

“Well yeah, most of the stuff at least. But it wasn’t really valuable. Just a few fake bracelets and such trinkets these stupid rich children wear to these places.”

“That’s it?”

“Well no. Apparantly there is a couple who is missing their diamond rings and this other man who is missing a super expensive watch and another one missing his wallet full of cash. We couldn’t find that lot on him. Don’t know where it went…