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go.’
    â€˜Why did you bring me here?’ I asked him on the way out. We had paused to light cigarettes in the lobby where they were playing cheesy instrumental music over the speakers.
    â€˜I wanted to show you that man,’ Hayes said.
    I didn’t question him. I stared at him over the length of my cigarette and I nodded like I understood. Yeah, I know what you’re talking about. I get it, baby.
    Hayes laughed because he knew I didn’t understand.
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    â€˜If you’re HIV-positive, does that mean that Phoebe—’ I started to ask.
    â€˜No,’ Hayes answered. ‘She’s not. Two people can be involved in a sexual relationship with one partner HIV-positive, and it is possible that the other won’t contract. We practise safe sex, of course.’
    I nodded. We were standing in the living room of Hayes’ apartment. I had been back to the hotel for a change of clothes, and that dirty bed had seemed the most inviting place on the planet. Sleep is a dream for insomniacs.
    â€˜Cambodian prostitutes,’ Hayes said, answering my next question before I could even ask it. ‘More than half of Cambodia’s prostitutes are infected. One hundred and twenty thousand people in Cambodia have AIDS, the greatest number of any one country in Asia. I was drunk, I wasn’t thinking.’
    Phoebe emerged in a short black dress. Her hair was up.
    â€˜Are you talking about me?’ she asked.
    â€˜I don’t want you wearing that dress,’ Hayes said immediately.
    â€˜Why not?’ she asked, smoothing it down. ‘I just bought this two weeks ago.’
    â€˜You’ll get us into trouble if you wear that,’ Hayes told her. ‘Go and change.’
    â€˜No way,’ she said. ‘I’m going out in this dress.’
    â€˜Okay,’ Hayes said, seeming to give in. He turned to me. ‘You ready to go?’
    I shrugged.
    Phoebe said she just had to get her wallet.
    Hayes gave a sigh and said, ‘Sometimes it’s better just not to argue with them.’
    Through the bathroom door I saw her snorting lines of cocaine from a tray like Miranda’s ghost.
    Hayes said, ‘Phoebe there thinks of herself as something of a feminist. In her mind, a dress that short and revealing is empowering. Shows she’s not ashamed of her body, knows how to use it. She doesn’t consider the idea that she looks like some kind of slut, or anything.’
    She came back to the door, said, ‘Are you talking about me?’
    Hayes said, ‘Get your wallet.’
    We went to a nightclub on Mac Thi Buoi Street. The bright lights and loud music were hell on my aching head, but I tried to ignore it, sitting at the bar smoking cigarettes and ordering two drinks at a time. I watched Hayes and Phoebe on the dancefloor among a sea of young backpackers and manic Asians. A young British girl asked me to join her on the dancefloor. She frowned in disapproval when I declined.
    Hayes came to the bar for drinks, laughing and slapping people on the back. ‘After a testosterone injection you’re riding the high for about three or four days. Your mind races, your attention span is shot. I act impulsively. I’m filled with more energy than I know what to do with.’ I noticed that Hayes was tapping his foot incessantly. He gave me a wink.
    He took his drinks and slunk away, back to Phoebe. I watched them with envy, bodies entwined and moving rhythmically together. The sharp pulsing pains in my head seemed to strike with each beat of the music. I felt very short of breath, like the world was closing in around me.
    I crunched ice from an empty glass between my teeth.
    I wanted to leave, to walk down to the hotel and just collapse.
    I watched Hayes and Phoebe dancing.
    By midnight I had lost count of how many drinks I’d had. Hayes was at the bar again, ordering. He shoved a glass in my general direction with a grin, nodding and saying, ‘Drink