Moondogs - Alexander Yates [35]
“In Cebu. Cebu City, it’s on an island to the south. Capital of Cebu province. That’s also a very big city.”
“As big as Manila?”
“No city’s as big as Manila, sir.” Edilberto smiled and adjusted his rearview mirror to get a better look into the backseat. They pulled up onto an overpass and soared above small concrete houses and palms. From this vantage Benicio saw people on the steps of huddled dwellings, ramshackle satellite dishes hanging off of corrugated roofs, and flashing neon signs above open doorways. They descended onto a road with no real lane markings that ran parallel to elevated light-rail tracks. A blue train passed them, lit from the inside and packed to bursting. Up ahead was a skyline that Benicio recognized from pictures his father had sent. “Is that Makati?” he asked, gesturing toward the brightness ahead.
“Yes, sir. And that one,” Edilberto pointed to a pink building near the edge of the cluster, “is the Shangri-La.” Benicio looked at the building and imagined his father as a speck in one of its many distant lighted windows. “Makati’s a good place. If you like some nice restaurants and bars, they’re all close by. You just let me know, I can show you the bars. You like karaoke?”
“I thought that was a Japanese thing?”
Edilberto contorted his face into a comic look of disapproval. “Japanese are very bad singers. But Filipinos have beautiful voices. Me especially.”
Benicio laughed at this and Edilberto grinned again. Entering Makati gave him the impression of entering deep woods out of a grassland. They turned onto a wide avenue lined with magnificent trees with lights slung about their trunks. Well-dressed mannequins gazed out from expensive-looking storefronts. The towering, grayish-pink Shangri-La hotel loomed just ahead, and as they pulled up to the entrance two armed guards approached and greeted Edilberto with cool nods. One of them walked all around the car shining a mirror-on-wheels at its underbelly while the other inspected the trunk and under the hood. When the guards were done they each gave a thumbs-up and waved the car through. Edilberto drove on, stopping finally at the enormous glass doors of the hotel. Benicio took out his wallet, unsure about the difference between a polite tip and overkill.
“Thank you, Edilberto,” he said, erring on the side of overkill.
“Please sir, just Berto.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned around, accepting the wadded bills without looking at them, and deftly shaking Benicio’s now empty hand. “It’s very good to meet you, sir. Just let me know if you want me to take you someplace. Sometimes guests want to go to the pearl market, or to lunch at Tagaytay. Maybe they want to know where to meet nice friends, or where to have a party.” He paused and stared at Benicio for a moment before continuing. “Just ask for Berto, sir, and if it’s my shift then I’m very happy.”
Before Benicio had a chance to respond a bellboy opened his door and welcomed him to the Shangri-La Makati. He insisted on wheeling Benicio’s suitcase and escorted him past more guards with sniffing dogs, their noses pressing against luggage and legs, and into the cool air of the hotel. The lobby was immense and almost indescribably opulent. Above him was an open mezzanine, from which he could hear clanging glasses and flatware, as well as a piano and a woman’s voice singing softly. Twin curved and carpeted staircases led down from the mezzanine and met at opposite ends of a huge round rug, in the middle of which sat a marble vase big as a Jacuzzi and overflowing with vegetation. Beyond the principal lobby was a second, much larger chamber decked out with green couches, tables and potted plants and filled with nicely dressed men and women. The far wall of the chamber was all made of glass and looked out on the hotel gardens. A small man-made stream ran outside among a cluster of reddish boulders and beautiful plants that looked both wild and arranged. Footlights hidden in the pebbles