Page 38 of The Friend Zone Experiment

Renee loved the Vietnamese place. She wavered visibly at the thought of their bún bowls.

“I can get that Thai canned drink you like,” said Ket Siong. “Coconut? Aloe vera?”

“Can I have grass jelly?” said Renee, giving in. “I’ll give you some money—oh, I don’t have my purse. I’ll pay you back.”

Ket Siong shook his head. “I’ll drop by your place and get your shoes. Do you want me to bring back anything else?”

“My purse?” said Renee, without much hope. Then, not meeting his eyes, “It might be good to have my pyjamas. And a change of clothes? If… I mean…”

“Oh,” said Ket Siong. It was some comfort to know, first, that Renee wasn’t looking at him, and second, that she was also blushing. “That’s—that’s a good idea.”

On an impulse, he swooped down and kissed her. Renee moved at just the wrong time, so they bumped foreheads, and his kiss landed to the side of her mouth, instead of on her lips. But when Ket Siong pulled back, she was smiling.

“Don’t be too long,” she said.

“I won’t,” he promised.

10Now

Renee was hummingto herself as she entered the lobby of her office building, after her coffee with Nathalie. She was looking forward to the weekend, getting to see friends in a context that had nothing to do with work. It was like being in her twenties again and having a social life.

Now she’d had time to get used to the idea of Nathalie joining her visit to the National Gallery with Ket Siong, Renee decided it would be nice. She never got to do stuff like that with Nathalie anymore.

On reflection, she felt she’d pulled off something rather clever. Nathalie would have felt guilty about dumping childcare duties on her husband for most of a Saturday if not for the compelling excuse of having to avert romantic disaster.

So Renee was in a good mood, until she saw the man standing in the lobby.

He was inspecting a painting on the wall—a blotchy, half-hearted imitation of a Rothko, blandly corporate. His back was to her, but everything about him was instantly familiar: from the dark hair stiff with hair gel, to the discontented slope of the shoulders in the Ralph Lauren suit, down to the knobbly ankles emerging from the custom-made leather shoes. He’d put on someweight, but he carried it well: it made him look substantial, a man to be reckoned with.

Renee hadn’t seen him in years. Perhaps that was one definition of family—a body of knowledge it was impossible to carve out of yourself, no matter how hard you tried.

Su Khoon turned, as though he’d sensed her watching him.

If not for that call from Dad at the beginning of the week, Renee would have kept on walking, pretending she hadn’t seen her second brother. On leaving Singapore, she’d blocked her brothers’ numbers, put them and their wives on restricted view across her social media accounts, and set up a filter on her inbox so any emails from them would go straight to Trash. As far as she knew, they hadn’t tried to get in touch. They’d accomplished what they wanted, after all—got rid of her, cleared the field.

They must have been royally pissed to hear Renee was in the running to take over Chahaya. If that piece of news had surprised her, she could only imagine her brothers’ reaction.

She suppressed a smile.

“Er Ge,” she said. “I didn’t know you were in London already.”

“I messaged you,” said Su Khoon. “But you didn’t reply.”

“Weird,” said Renee blandly. “Are you sure you had the right number? I’ve changed it.”

If she was going to have to work with Su Khoon, she’d have to update the filters on her inbox so she’d see emails from him, if not Su Beng. Maybe she could get a burner phone exclusively for fraternal communications.

“It was the number Dad gave me.” Su Khoon glanced at the reception desk. The two women on it gave him a forbidding glare, as did the security guard by the barriers. Evidently there had already been some form of interaction, and it hadn’t gone well.

“Must be some glitch, then,” said Renee. “I’ll have to check my phone settings.” She directed a reassuring smile at the reception staff.

She could practically see the ill temper hovering over her brother, as if he were a cartoon character dogged by a storm cloud. He was fidgeting with his cuff links, a crease between his eyebrows.

At least it was her second brother she was dealing with, not Su Beng. Su Khoon could be trusted not to shout or get physical, no matter what shitty things he might say in that even voice.

The downside was that he was the smarter of her two brothers. Thatshouldmean he’d see the benefits of playing nice with her. What it would probably mean was he’d try to sabotage her, but with a better chance of success than if it was Su Beng doing it.

“We need to talk,” said Su Khoon.

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