Page 18 of Behind Frenemy Lines

Hong Kong had its own problems, but any issues Charles had with Hong Kong were going to be very different from my animus against Malaysia. Or, more accurately, Malaysia’s animus against me.

Charles’s eyes flicked to a point above my shoulder. One of the students had come up to us.

“We’re going to head off, but thanks for speaking to us. It was really helpful,” she said. “Um, we put our drinks on the tab. What do we owe you?”

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Are you guys all right to get home? OK. Enjoy the rest of your time with the firm. We’ll try to make it to the closing drinks.”

When we’d waved them off, I turned to Charles. “Can I have the firm credit card? They needed a card behind the bar to set up a tab, so I gave them mine. The bill comes to around£180.”

I hadn’t expected this to be controversial, but Charles hesitated.

“Farah said it was just for the wine bar. I don’t think she meant for the firm to cover us if we went on anywhere else.”

“Oh. OK.” I supposed it was consistent that Kawan Baik should be scrupulous about the firm’s budget. It fit with everything I’d seen of him so far—the surprising idealism about his work, the tendency towards rigidity. “Fair enough. Shall we split it, then?”

Charles wouldn’t meet my eyes. A bad feeling unfolded in the pit of my stomach—a harbinger of disappointment.

“I assumed everyone was going to cover their own drinks,” he said.

Charles had to be on at least£150,000 a year, same as me, not including bonuses. He was probably on more, given he’d been with the firm for longer and he was a man. He was single, with no dependents; he’d gone to boarding school; and his father used to take him to the JW Marriott for nasi lemak. Ninety pounds was nothing to him. Small change.

I was the one who’d told everyone we’d cover their drinks, I reminded myself. I hadn’t given Charles the chance to disagree.

But it was the accepted convention at social occasions like these that the most senior person paid. Partners and senior associates covered the drinks of trainees, who were on what were, by any measure, healthy salaries. The rule had to apply all the more to university students from traditionally underrepresented backgrounds.

To be fair, I could afford to drop£180 on everyone’s drinks. It wasn’t about the money.

“OK,” I said. “I misunderstood. I’ll cover it.”

Charles looked wretched. “Sorry.”

I half expected him to row it back, or offer to cover some of the bill, even if he wasn’t up for splitting it fifty-fifty. But he didn’t.

“No worries,” I said.

There was no reason to feel upset about it. I’d volunteered us to pay the bill. Charles didn’t want to. That was his prerogative. Just because he was rich didn’t mean he couldn’t be stingy. That was how rich people hung on to their money, by refusing to share it with anyone else.

But I’d been starting tolikeCharles.

I thought wistfully of Tom. Money had never been an issue with him. Sure, I’d paid for both of us most of the time, whenwe ate out and went travelling. But then, he’d earned a fraction of what I did. It simply hadn’t mattered.

Or so I’d thought. When Tom moved to California, it had been for a six-figure salary—a huge step up for him. Maybe he’d no longer wanted me, once he was earning that kind of money himself.

Wow, thanks, brain. That was super helpful.

“I’ll go settle up,” I said.

At least Kawan Baik and I were going to have a break from each other after this evening. I worked from home Thursdays and Fridays, and I was flying to Hong Kong on Sunday. I was going to be away for two weeks: four days in Hong Kong, then the rest of the time on leave in Malaysia.

I’d be over this by the time I saw Charles again, in a better place to make nice. I was going to be sharing an office with him for the foreseeable future, after all. I needed to keep things civil.

I’d tried to keep my tone pleasant, but something of my real feelings must have filtered through. Charles’s face fell.

I felt bad for him, despite my irritation. Poor Kawan Baik. It was like he couldn’t even help himself.

“Good night, Charles,” I said, more gently.

“Good night,” he said.

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