KARMA COLADA

Chapter Twelve

LEON barged through the rickety wooden doors of Happy Elephant Hostel, bringing in the hurricane with him. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Naomi tiptoeing closely behind in his jacket, looking like a real-life Thumbelina — although a little more drenched than in the fairy-tale.

Upon his dramatic arrival, a sea of curious heads turned to their direction.

A sea of curious, Llama-like heads, to be precise.

Leon inwardly groaned when he clocked the college guy who ran over his foot, slouching on a couch beside the entrance with the same herd of friends. Recognising Leon instantly, Llama Guy casually nodded at him as if they were lifelong comrades.

Of all the fucking hostels in Bangkok.

They had to check into this one.

"Do you see Francine?" Naomi's nervous query reached his ears as he scanned the lobby of the hostel.

To sum it up, Happy Elephant Hostel was a foreign backpacker's dream. The insides were painted bright turquoise, with posters of old Hollywood movies tacked from wall-to-wall.

There were a couple of dartboards, a pinball-machine and a pool table crammed inside the lobby; all proving immensely popular amongst the tourists judging by the horde crowding around them.

"I don't see her," Leon responded tightly.

"Maybe she's in there," Naomi gestured to the far left of the lobby, where there was a cased opening with a neon sign above it.

The phrase 'GET YOUR BOOZE ON' buzzed at Leon condescendingly. Immediately, he could feel adrenaline coursing through his blood.

I'll kill that bloody bartender.

It took Leon a full second to realize he'd just said the thought aloud, causing Naomi's eyes to bug out at him.

"Let's just calm down, Fitz—"

But Leon was already striding towards the cased opening, his fingers gripped tightly around his and Naomi's luggage handles with wavering self-restraint.

Leon squeezed himself and the luggage through the narrow cased opening, unfortunately getting tangled in the bead curtains hanging over the threshold in the process.

Once he freed himself (rather ungracefully at that) from the gaudy death trap, Leon straightened his spine, his eyes flying to the bar at the end of the tiny, slightly crowded room.

A heavy perfume of tobacco (and something else) hung in the air, while patrons made up of tourists and locals mingled amongst each other; some of them swaying to the playlist of 80s Western chart-toppers playing in the background.

Standing behind the bar counter was a middle-aged woman with fiery pin curls and a lit cigarette between her lips. There were elaborate dragons inked across her burnished skin, all of them proudly on display thanks to her tight leather tank and matching short shorts.

She couldn't be Gabriele...right?

Leon's searing intensity was probably what caused her to look up as he marched towards her. However, she surprised him by crossing her arms over her ample bust and meeting his glare with the same ferocity.

Dragon Lady clicked her tongue once Leon reached the counter, taking a long drag off her cigarette and blowing the smoke into his face.

He stifled a cough.

"What do you want?" Dragon Lady's fluent English was heavily laced with cigarettes. Leon set the luggage down to the floor with a decisive thud.

"I'm looking for someone. My fiancée," he spoke, keeping his tone cordial.