Sumettikul's Universe

{3} The Photo-shoot

Us is ecstatic.

“But what was he doing at Konglikit’s?” His curiosity oozes through the phone. I’m in the depths of the stock room, trying to keep my voice casual.

“He was in the area.”

“I think that is one huge coincidence, Bui. You don’t think he was there to see you?” He speculates. My heart lurches at the prospect, but it’s a short-lived joy. The dull, disap­pointing reality is that he was here on business.

“He was visiting the farming division of PU. He’s funding some research,” I mutter.

“Oh yes. He’s given the department a $2.5 million grant.”

Wow.

“How do you know this?”

“Bui, I’m a journalist, and I’ve written a profile on the guy. It’s my job to know this.”

“Okay, Carla Bernstein, keep your hair on. So do you want these photos?”

“Of course I do. The question is, who’s going to do them and where.”

“We could ask him where. He says he’s staying in the area.”

“You can contact him?”

“I have his phone number.”

Us gasps.

“One of the richest, most elusive, most enigmatic bachelor Asia, just gave you his phone number.”

“Er...yes.”

“Build! He likes you. No doubt about it.” His tone is emphatic.

“Us, he’s just trying to be nice.” But even as I say the words, I know they’re not true – Bible doesn’t do nice. He does polite, maybe. And a small quiet voice whis­pers, perhaps Us is right. My scalp prickles at the idea that maybe, just maybe, he might like me. After all, he did say he was glad Us didn’t do the interview. I hug myself with quiet glee, rocking from side to side, entertaining the possibility that he might like me for one brief moment. Us brings me back to the now.

“I don’t know who we’ll get to do the shoot. Tong, our regular photographer, can’t. He’s home for the weekend. He’ll be pissed that he blew an opportunity to photo one of Bangkok’s leading entrepreneurs.”

“Hmm...what about Nodt?”

“Great idea! You ask him – he’ll do anything for you. Then call Sumettikul and find out where he wants us.” Us is irritatingly cavalier about Nodt.

“I think you should call him.”

“Who, Nodt?” Us scoffs.

“No, Sumettikul.”

“Bui, you’re the one with the relationship.”

“Relationship?” I squeak at him, my voice rising several octaves. “I barely know the guy.”

“At least you’ve met him,” He says bitterly. “And it looks like he wants to know you better. Build, just call him,” He snaps and hangs up. He is so bossy sometimes. I frown at my mobile, sticking my tongue out at it.

I’m just leaving a message for Nodt when Job enters the stock room looking for sand­paper.

“We’re kind of busy out there, Build,” He says without acrimony.

“Yeah, um, sorry,” I mutter, turning to leave.

“So, how come you know Wichapas Sumettikul?” Job’s voice is unconvincingly nonchalant.