by Jack Bunker
“I’m nothing if not flexible,” said Royal. “If a night of love is not meant to be, then let me propose this. You accompany me to Rage—”
“The gay disco?”
“Yes,” said Royal. “I’m so pleased you know Rage.”
“I’ve never been there,” I said, probably looking embarrassed. “I must have read about it in the LA Weekly.”
“Be that as it may, I want you to spend the evening with me as my boyfriend. I’ve been out of circulation too long. If I show up with a handsome young man who is crazy for me, my stock will shoot through the roof.”
“Define crazy for me.”
“We don’t have to kiss. I won’t touch your cock. I will grab your ass, and you’ll have to look like you’re mad for me. If you think people are listening, tell me what a great lover I am. That you’re going to miss me when you take that job in New York.”
“If I do this, you’ll help me with Shin Doko?”
“Yes. But you have to promise to keep me out of it if it all goes to shit.”
“It’s a deal,” I said. “I’ll be your boy.”
* * *
I stared into the bathroom mirror. Yun had done a good job. If I saw any of my crew at the car wash they would either die laughing or be scared that the sky was falling. Yun had been faced with a somewhat blank canvas to begin with and had transformed me into an acceptably cute guy. I looked five years younger and a lot sexier—if sexy meant Goth eye makeup and a wraparound bandage on my cock, making me look like I was packing a twelve-inch length of PVC pipe.
Yun peeked in and gave me a low wolf whistle. “Don’t stay out too late, lover boy. I want to fuck you looking like this.”
“I have no idea what I’m walking into,” I said. “I may need a hot and sweaty dog fuck when I get home.”
“You’re gonna have fun and you know it,” said Yun, laughing.
Thing is, she was right. For one night I was going to have an inside look at how the other half lives.
* * *
I was lucky—I’d arrived early enough to Rage to claim a space in the parking lot instead of the street. I called Royal on his cell—it occurred to me I didn’t know what kind of car he drove.
He answered with, “This is Royal.”
“Royal. It’s Wes. Are you in the lot?”
“I saw you drive in,” answered Royal. “I’m in the red Mini Cooper.”
The headlights flashed on a Mini Cooper parked at the far end of the lot.
I said, “I see you.”
“Are you ready to escort me in?” asked Royal.
This struck me as being absurd, since Royal had a good three inches on me and about a hundred pounds.
“Sure.”
“Act like you’re mad about me.”
I locked up and walked over to his car. He got out and stood tall, dwarfing his vehicle. He was dressed in a black guayabera with two vertical white stripes, probably in an attempt to slenderize his silhouette.
He gave me the once-over and said, “I love a man with enthusiasm.”
* * *
The music was loud and the lights were flashing. I recognized the song as being one by Nicki Minaj where she twerked and sang about an anaconda. It was strange, getting a twinge in my pants thinking about Nicki Minaj while being surrounded by a hundred guys motorboating their behinds around the dance floor. Royal was light on his feet and favored a lot of jazz hand as he danced. I dug deep for my inner gay and imitated some of the simpler moves I saw around me. After a while I began to feel the music and just gave myself over to the bass-heavy beat.
The song ended, and Royal gave me a sweaty hug. He smelled like baby powder. He laughed and said, “Oh, that song is life-affirming in a bad way.”
I glanced toward the bar, and Royal said, “I agree. Let’s get a drink.”
As we walked toward the bar, Royal whispered, “Put your hand on my ass.”
A deal was a deal, and as we made our way through the crowd I lightly palmed Royal’s ass—definitely the biggest one I’d ever grabbed.
Two women smiled at us. When we had entered Rage I’d been surprised to see so many lipstick lesbians. The mix of male to female was the same as any nightclub—the only difference was that it was guy-on-guy and girl-on-girl.
We had to push to get to the bar’s edge—it helped that Royal had twice the body mass of those around him.
Royal gestured to the bartender. “Two double cuba libres, extra lime.”
I noticed Royal’s eyes scanning the young men in our immediate vicinity. We both saw two good-looking Asian guys checking us out and pointing, probably trying to sort out the odd matchup Royal and I made.
I leaned in close to Royal. “How am I doing?”
Royal lowered his chin and gave me a playful look. “You know, they say there’s no such thing as queer or straight. Everyone’s bi. Sexuality is on an adjusting scale.”
I thought about that for a second. “I don’t know. Maybe. But I think the needle on my scale is way over on the straight side.”
“You never know,” said Royal.
The DJ shifted into J-Lo’s “On the Floor.” I remembered how J-Lo looked in that video. I cupped my hand to my mouth and said to Royal, “It’s a big world; lots could happen, but I’m still trying to figure out women. I figure it’s gonna take me a while.”
Our drinks came and Royal made a show of paying.
“Follow me,” said Royal. “Let’s go to the patio where we can relax.”
It was a different feeling being outside. The air was balmy. I could still faintly hear the music from inside. Unlike Koreatown, no one was smoking.
We got lucky—as we walked outside two guys bailed on a table. We sat down and Royal pushed his chair close to mine. He laid a hand on my knee, and for a moment I thought about how embarrassing it would be if someone I knew saw me. Then it occurred to me if they were at Rage, then they were probably gay themselves. Plus, who really cares who’s gay and who isn’t?
Royal said, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
I thought about it for a moment. “Pretty girls. Handsome guys. Good music. Strong drinks.” I gestured toward Royal and said, “The company of a friend. What’s not to like?”
Royal looked around and then said to me, “I’m coming back tomorrow. I think I’ve made an impression.”
I wondered what Yun was doing right now. Maybe she and Soo Jin were watching TV together. The kids would be asleep. I didn’t think I’d be enjoying myself so much without the knowledge that the night would end with me lying next to Yun.
I took a sip of my cuba libre—a sweeter drink than I was used to, but not so bad. I looked over my shoulder and saw a Hispanic guy with a little extra fat around his middle giving us the eye. He was at a table of guys who all seemed to be talking at once. I noticed he and Royal did a little flirting with their eyes.
I said, “You’re a fun person, Royal. There’s no reason you can’t find a steady guy.”
Royal beamed a smile at me. “Thank you for that, Wes. You know, when Walter left I fell into such a funk. When I’m happy I lose weight. I never get down to being buff, but I’m pleasantly padded if you know what I mean. Being alone I just plump up. No matter how many cookies, it’s never enough.”
I didn’t know what to say so I said nothing.
“I’m still a vital man,” said Royal. “I eat all those cookies at night and lay down to bed, and I get a sugar rush hard-on. I lay there in the dark, working away with my eyes closed, and I swear I hear Walter laughing at me. I open my eyes, and I can almost see him in the room—but it’s only a shadow. Then it fades away and disappears.”
“That’s got to ruin the mood.”
“What about you?” asked Royal. “Do you ever get lonely?”
“The way I grew up, I think being lonely was the status quo.”
“Managed pain,” said Royal.
“What do you mean?”
“You learned to live with pain, with being lonely
. If you hadn’t found a way to manage your pain, you would have gone crazy. It’s not a good way to live.”
“Maybe not. But that’s changing.”
“You have your wife,” said Royal.
“More than that,” I said. “I have my wife and kids and my inamorata.”
Royal opened his eyes wide in a comic move. “Wes. You are a constant surprise.”
I rattled the ice cubes in my glass. “We’ve got our own little army.”
THIRTY-THREE
It was close to two when I slid into bed next to Yun. She woke up with a start, smiling. She stared at my face, illuminated by the dim light from the street.
“You left it on,” she said. “You look so sexy in eye makeup.”
“I figure one night won’t hurt.”
“You smell funny,” said Yun. “Like when I’m changing a diaper. Like baby powder.”
“Hazards of the night, baby.”
“You know you had fun.”
“Take charge,” I said. “Fuck me like you bought me for the night.”
Yun grabbed my cock and got on top, riding me—using me like I was there solely for her pleasure. When I felt she was about to come, I slapped her ass and thrust deeply, taking over and pushing her over the edge.
Yun fell on top of me, exhausted. When she regained her breath, she asked, “What was it like?”
I told her about my night with Royal, making her laugh now and then.
“I think it all went perfect,” I said. “I kept my end of the bargain; now it’s time for him to deliver.”
“Deliver what?” asked Yun.
“I have a plan to turn the tables, but I’m going to keep it to myself. If my plan goes into the toilet, it’s better if you and Soo Jin know nothing about it.”
“I get worried when you talk like that.”
“I don’t blame you. But I can’t sit here like a target. Sooner or later one of us is going to get hurt. Maybe even one of the kids.”
“Don’t even say that.”
“I’m going to do everything I can to keep anything like that from happening.”
“Mi-Cha was asking about you tonight, where you were.”
I thought about that and it made me feel good. “She’s a sweet little girl.”
“You don’t have to do much to get their love,” said Yun. “They’re going to adopt you.”
“That was quick.”
“Little kids need a father,” said Yun. “Mi-Cha and Tae-Yong don’t even have a grandfather. You have to be careful—don’t play with their hearts.”
I thought about my own father. “Don’t be afraid to give me a few tips on how to be a parent.”
Yun pointed at the bedside table. “Hand me your wallet.”
I reached over and gave it to her. She reached in and took out a dollar bill.
Yun scooted her ass to the middle of the bed and said, “Now fuck me like you paid for it.”
* * *
The next morning I waited until it was quiet. Yun was off to work, the kids were playing in the backyard, and Soo Jin was in the bathroom washing her hair. I called Manuel and told him things were heating up, that I didn’t feel safe leaving the house in the daytime. He needed to come over to Yun’s so I could run something by him.
He showed up at the door a couple of hours later, with a bag of carne asada tacos and a quart of Tecate. He held up the bag. “Early lunch, homes. Enough for two.” He heard Soo Jin in her room and said, “Should I have brought more?”
“No worries, man. I’ll split mine with Soo Jin. She’ll probably like it. Carne asada’s kind of like Korean barbecue anyway.”
I got a couple of plates and glasses, and we laid out lunch. I put aside a taco for Soo Jin.
Manuel reached for the bottle of hot sauce. “In case you’re wondering, everything is suavecito at Warsaw Wash.”
“I got complete faith in you,” I said. “Thanks for keeping things humming.”
“Jules had you,” replied Manuel. “I figure sooner or later you’re going to need a right-hand man. Make it official.”
“There’s a couple more laps to go, but you’ve got the inside track,” I said. “No one else is even close.”
The carne asada taco was more than I expected, with guacamole, chopped onions, and jalapeños. I took a bite. “The Koreans have had me on the run. Problem is, sooner or later they’re going to catch me. I can’t stay holed up here forever.”
“I see where you’re going with this,” said Manuel.
“I guess you would.”
“You see it in the barrio,” said Manuel. “You don’t protect what’s yours, they take it away. Sometimes you got to cowboy up.”
I glanced toward Soo Jin’s room—the door was still closed. I lowered my voice. “I’ve told you about the clinic I go to every week, because of the iron in my blood. I found something out a few days ago. The top dog trying to kill me goes to the same clinic. His name is Shin Doko. I’m going to kidnap the motherfucker.”
“That’s heavy time, homes.”
“If I fuck it up, yes. But these Koreans don’t go to the police. They handle things on their own. Shin Doko’s going to be my bargaining chip.”
“How you gonna do it?”
“I’ve got someone on the inside, inside the clinic.”
Manuel looked down with sad eyes at his empty plate. Maybe he was sad his lunch was finished, but I was almost certain he was sad because he knew what I was going to ask next.
“I’m not going to be able to do it by myself,” I said. “I’m going to need help.”
Manuel looked up and said, “I’m your man.”
* * *
Royal called me later that day and told me that Shin would be in tomorrow for an afternoon appointment. Manuel and I would have to wait in place from two on and be ready to move fast when we got Royal’s call. I told him we’d be there.
The rest of the day and night passed in a blur. Yun snapped at me once or twice for not answering simple questions. The kids gave me funny looks, like I’d turned into somebody else—someone they didn’t know. Soo Jin was unchanged in her reaction to me, which made me realize that my current mental state was probably one she lived in 24/7—here but not here.
As night fell I finally gave up and settled into the couch. A passenger of Yun’s had left an Adam Sandler DVD in the back of her taxi. I put it on and watched it over and over. Even after three viewings I still couldn’t tell you what I saw.
Just like Soo Jin, I was here but not here.
THIRTY-FOUR
I sat in my Jeep Cherokee in the parking lot behind the clinic, dressed in a plastic rain poncho. I had my cell phone on the dash, fully charged. On the seat next to me was a plastic bag from the 99 Cents store filled with stuff I thought I might need: duct tape, a length of rope, a black hood, and a knife. My sawed-off shotgun was under the seat. I felt like I was in a scene in a straight-to-DVD movie, one of those with an actor on a downward trajectory, like Val Kilmer or Christian Slater. I was definitely in one-step-at-a-time territory. First I had to get Shin in the car. Once I got him home, I had to figure out how to get the most out of my bargaining chip. Maybe I could convince Mi-Cha and Tae-Yong that Shin was their grandfather; I’d have a hard time explaining why I was keeping grandpa tied up.
Before I’d driven in I’d spray-painted the lens of the parking lot’s security camera. Royal had told me it was mostly there for show and was rarely in operation, but I wasn’t taking any chances.
I looked at my phone: it was twenty after two. Manuel had confirmed he was in the waiting room, holding the Big Gulp from the 7-Eleven. Royal had refused to talk to me on my cell since we made the plan—he was smart enough to know that if this thing went south the police would be checking my phone records. The signal was for him to walk out to his car and pick up a book he’d promised to lend to another nurse. That’s when I’d know to come in the back door of the clinic, which was only occasionally locked.
Yun had taken the day off
and was at home with Soo Jin and the kids. She knew I was executing a serious maneuver and had given up trying to get the details out of me. She’d said, “I’m gonna be here waiting if you decide you need me.” Then she’d gone back to making lunch for the kids. I had a feeling that no matter what I did with my life I’d be stronger with Yun at my side.
Royal came through the door, giving me only the barest of glances. He walked stiff-legged, as though his limbs were coursing with adrenaline. He walked over to his car, beeped it open, and took a book out of the back seat. I watched him walk back in and disappear behind the door.
I called Manuel. He picked up, and I said, “It’s on you, bro.”
I slipped the poncho over my head. I was dressed in burgundy hospital scrubs, the same as the other nurses at the clinic. I glanced at the back seat, where I had a pillow propped up against the side-door window. No sense breaking Shin’s neck on the ride home.
I walked in the back way, glancing into the break room, where I saw Royal in serious conversation with a female nurse, a black woman. I’m not sure what Royal was telling her, but I could see he had her complete attention. I kept walking down the short hall, looking in one room after another. At the end of the hall I could see into the waiting room, where a commotion was in full swing. I caught a glimpse of Manuel, waving his arms in a frenzy—a spray of blood covering his chest. I was the only person who knew it wasn’t blood—it was catsup mixed with chunks of pork fat. His Big Gulp was filled with it. On my phone signal he had filled his mouth with the mess and sprayed it down his chest, imitating a full-blown hemorrhage. He was topping off the bloody display with a top-of-the-lungs reggaeton rap about being the biggest gangsta in East LA. I knew I had only a minute or two before Manuel bolted out the front door. We were depending on no one chasing him. This is LA after all. They’d be glad he was off and running and on his way to being someone else’s problem.
Looking in an examination room, I saw Shin’s bony face pointing up at the ceiling. There was a gurney outside the door. I wheeled it in next to the examination table. Shin looked to be out cold from the shot Royal gave him. To make sure, I pinched him on the arm: nothing—no response at all.