revenge is sweet

“Grey”, he thought, as he pushed through the haphazard array of people and wares at Mangga Dua, the epicenter for cheap shopping. Slam-down prices, they call it. The overwhelming sights and colours were overkill, churned together like a melting pot and leaving a distasteful grayish-ness at the bottom. He saw nothing he wanted. He only came to accompany Marla, who stood beside him now with an unmistakable glint in her eyes. Marla was animated, an excited, ready-to-bargain expression on her face, her lush hair tied defiantly high on her head and swishing merrily as they moved along. Wearily, he followed, squeezing through shop-keepers on either side, shouting and promoting their ware. Marla came to a halt at a tiny stall filled with cosmetics. He absent-mindedly gazed down at the dirty glass counter, rather interested by the subtle blends of colour the cosmetic makers had created. Reminded him of the colour palette he used in his last design for a pamflet order.

“Eyeshadow, how much?” he could hear Marla saying beside him.

“only 30.000”

“So expensive!”, she had an irritated tone to her voice. “Bring it down to 10.000”

“Can’t do”, was the reply, “that one’s an original. It’s really good. Good colour. I always use it myself.”

He looked up to see what the chinese shopkeeper was using. She was smiling, curved scotch tape stuck on to her eyelids to create a folding-eyelid effect when her eyes were open, and above that, her eyebrows were tattoed in a blue-ish hue over her original eyebrows. She wore red plastic earrings, two hoops on each ear. He couldn’t see any eyeshadow.

“25.000 is the best I can do”, she said, her eyebrows curving bluely at him.

Marla’s lip curled down slightly as she shook her head, took his arm, and marched off. A split second later, the shopkeeper had hailed them back and wrapped-up the eyeshadow Marla wanted for 10.000.

In good form today, Marla had told him, gleefully rubbing her hands together a short while after her seventh purchase, all of which he carried now. He now had a slight throbbing headache, and was about to gently suggest how the day was getting late. They were passing a narrow linking corridor, through which he could glimpse another vast space beyond, filled with stores and neon lights.

“Where does that lead?” he asked her, absent-mindedly.

“Oh electronics. Computers, stereos, you know. Boring stuff.” she replied, tugging at his arm towards a fake leather-bags store she had just spotted.

But she couldn’t. He had stood still. Turning around to face him, she opened her mouth to say something when she suddenly stopped. He was staring through the corridor with an odd glint in his eyes, his eyebrows raised ever so slightly.

“I think” he said slowly, a smile forming on the corners of his lips “that I could put your bargaining skills to good use”.