by Jay J Carr
The thought comes to him, if he transfers the money out of his mortgage and into his credit card, it will clear immediately and he will be able to have money for the ticket as well as a hotel. He is lucky that the house is registered in his name and that he has paid additional amounts in every month. And up until a few days ago he was really close to paying it off. At least this way he can get the peace he wants, even if it means dealing with the consequences later.
Within a minute, he has made the biggest transfer of his life. He watches as the money decreases from the one account and with one click becomes available in the other. He breathes out and logs off.
He then goes back to the website and once more enters the details of the required ticket. He processes the transaction until he sees a confirmation pop up on the screen. There he has done it. What the hell has he just done though? The ticket price I exorbitant. This is where another part of his brain takes over - there will be no more thinking about this.
He also thinks it best to book a hotel, this way he can ensure there is sufficient coordination between the two parties. There is a website he usually does his hotel bookings on. The transaction is quick as he already has a profile. He then makes the call to the direct line.
“Penelope Tan. How can I help you?”
This time he writes down her name, he doesn’t want to forget it as the operation unfolds. “Hello Penelope, it’s …” Now he can’t remember the name he had given earlier. Was it Morris or Melvin or Michael? He could not remember. “It’s … um …”
“Is that Michael, Dr Cunningham’s assistant?”
“Yes, it is.” How did she know that?
“I see that your team has made the booking to leave in two days. As you know our flight leaves in the morning at 11h00, so we will need to plan around this time.”
Again, he wants to know how she already has this information about the booking? “Yes …” he responds, to show that he is still there.
“So normally VIP guests are fetched an hour before the flight, not two hours like the other passengers. Please let me know where we should collect him - the Institute or home?
He has not thought about this. His house was the obvious place not to be picked up from. He quickly hatches a plan in his head. He needs to divert the press away from here and he thinks he knows how.
“From my …” he quickly realises his mistake and can kick himself, “from his residence. He … we, will possibly point the press somewhere else.” He needs to stop talking.
If she had noticed the error, she did not make anything of it. “I have noted that. I will be waiting at the VIP entrance and will manage it from there. What number should we use to contact you on?”
“Let me find out from Dr Cunningham as to what number he would prefer.”
“No, I meant your number.”
“I will give you Susan his other assistant’s number. She moves everywhere with him.
“I only see one ticket booked. If you can give me the details of Susan.”
“She won’t be going with. She will take his calls and see him off from the house.” He is completely flustered and the more he speaks the more the story becomes entangled.
“I see. Then if you could give me her number.”
He quickly recites it to her. The experience is causing him to overheat and he needs to lie down. This call has taken all the energy out of him. “Thank you.” He doesn’t know what else to say.
“You are welcome.”
Bangkok-
14.
The ‘boy’ was sitting at an empty table. "Did you manage to have something?"
The ‘boy’ looked confused.
"Did you eat something?"
"No," came the reply.
“I am going to call upstairs so that they can put the camera on. They will then leave so that there will be no one in the room.”
There was still a lack of trust. The ‘boys’ eyes reflected this.
There was silence for the duration of the walk to the elevator and room. Outside the door he turned around to the ‘boy’ and looked him in the eye, "There is no one else in the room. The camera is on, so please sit down in the chair and if you walk around the sofa it will not get your face."
The ‘boy’ understood and Tod opened the door.
Once they were both settled, Tod indicated to the ‘boy’ with a nod that they were going to start. He realised that he had never even asked his name. What had come over him? Was it the experience which haunted him, the Bangkok heat, the fact that he was gay or this story which got bigger and bigger?
He picked up the script he had prepared as well as the questions. He looked over to the ‘boy’ and nodded. The ‘boy’ nodded back.
"What would you like me to call you?" he asked.
"Joe."
"An English name?"
"Some have English name?"
"Right," he said. "I will call you Joe then."
"Could you tell me how long you worked at the bar?"
"Four years."
"That's a fair amount of time," Tod reflected. "Why this long?"
"I come university in Bangkok, so need money."
"You were a university student?" Tod's voice couldn't hide the surprise.
"Yes, I study."
"And you finished your degree at the university?"
"Yes."
"What did you study?"
"I study about how work with people in country, help them …” There was a pause as he searched for the words. “Many people, I work with many people."
“Community work,” Tod surmised. “I think you mean community or social work.
The ‘boy’ did not know how to respond.
“Right … How did you come to work at the bar?"
"My friend take me there. He know about bar. I visit and ask for job too. Make more money than working 7-Eleven.”
“So are you gay, do you say your sexuality is gay?”
“Yes, gay gay.” He touched his chest when he said this, which Tod thought was unusual.
“So you went there as a gay man knowing that you would be working in a bar that caters for paid sex with men?”
“Not only man, sometimes have sex with women too.”
Tod was confused, “But you said you identified yourself as gay.”
“Customer pay. Man pay, man get sex, woman pay woman get sex.”
He heard his voice talking, but his mind was processing, “Right, right.”
“Many ‘boy’ who work at bar, are ‘man’ not gay.”
“Yes, I understand that there were no woman working in the bar.”
“No. No,” his hands rose in frustration. “English not good.”
Tod quickly focused back, took the cue and said, “Please take your time.”
“Gay is bottom, ‘man’ is top.”
It then dawned on Tod what his questions had raised and how this would probably have to be the first thing that was edited out. Talking about women made no sense in relation to what the ‘boy’ had said.
“I see,” he said. “So you went with your friend to the bar. And what did you have to do for your job interview?"
"Not understand ..."
"To get the job did you have to do anything?"
"No. Mama-san meet with us. Look at our look. Like look. They tell us what to do and to talk to other boy about what to do.”
“Mama-san is the person who is what in English we call the Madam, but not sure what the male version is … um … pimp? Well the person you work for? Right, then the Mama-san took over things.”
Tod was starting to worry where this interview was going but he also needed to remain consistent and was worried that he had not confirmed some key points. "I am right in saying that you sell yourself for sex. You got paid to have sex?"
"No." As the ‘boy’ said this, Tod was starting to panic.
"I’m sorry … um … Well then what?"
"Not only sex, also talking, drinking."
"But ultimately you also
offered sex?"
"Sex, yes but not only sex."
"I see, so you were also offering companion services." Tod felt like he only said it to save face, something he was quickly learning about.
"On one night how many customers did you go with?"
"One ... sometime two."
"So in the four years you must have met many men?"
"Yes, but sometime customer want one month."
"So, you went for one month with just one customer?"
"Yes."
"But still there were many customers, right?"
"Yes."
"So how are you able to remember this one?" As the words came out he quickly added, "And in that I am referring to Barry Cunningham."
"He was a good man."
"Do you mean he was kind to you?"
"He was good man, good. Many time visit bar and good man."
"Maybe you can explain to me what you mean by good."
"He had good heart," the ‘boy's’ face was serene while he was talking. "He listen. He care."
That Place-
15.
The Soi is quiet. As he walks into it he looks around, something which he does not normally do. He is considering how little has changed in the time he has visited. One bar might have opened and another one closed but the fundamentals of it all, were comfortingly the same.
He hears the familiar, “Masssaaagggeee.” He smiles and shakes his head and then he sees him. It is Chet, one of the ‘massage boys’ he had fallen in love with - the naughty face, the soft intimacy during their sessions, which included long periods kissing.
He walks over and sees Chet busy checking his phone and not looking up.
“Hello Chet,” he says.
Chet looks up surprised. “Hello!” This is followed by a hug.
“When did you come back?”
“Two months now.”
“What happened to your hair salon?”
“It not work out,” he says, looking down.
“I am sorry to hear that,” he replies, saddened by what he hears.
“I lose everything.” He is still looking down, “All money I save, I use. Not many customer.”
He clucks in return.
“I see you yesterday but you not see me.”
He is surprised but then he knows he does not make eye contact and always walks with a determination to the restaurant.
“You should have come over,” he replies, thinking why didn’t he?
“No, you look so busy.”
“Sorry.”
“You want massage?”
“Not today but how about tomorrow?”
“Sure, work here now.”
As he feels awkward about what he has heard, he says, “I am going to eat.”
Chet smiles in acknowledgement.
He continues to walk and the determination is back as he is now thinking about what has just happened and he feels a deep sadness. Why was the universe so unfair, especially when people try so hard?
He is about to sit down, when he walks back to the massage shop.
“Chet, can I at least buy you some dinner or a drink?”
“No, I next turn for customer.”
“I see,” he says.
He smiles, turns around and walks back to the restaurant. It is while he is drinking his customary cup of coffee, that he thinks back to the beginning of it all.
After that firs time, after that terrifying moment with the flashing lights; the drag queens; the Mama-sans’; the ‘boy’ he had returned to Bangkok two weeks later. So mesmerized by the experience he felt an addiction coming on.
After landing he quickly checked into his hotel eager to walk through the streets. It was then that the rain began to fall after a short coffee stint to Starbucks. The closest place he could escape to was the Soi and he saw that the only open business was a ‘gay massage shop’. He was warmly welcomed by a cute ‘boy’, not Thai but Cambodian. He was led up the stairs and all of the ‘boys’ that worked there lined up. He was not sure why? This was not a ‘go-go’ bar so surely it didn’t matter who massaged you. Then a manager-type came out and asked which ‘boy’ he wanted. He pointed at the ‘boy’ who had led him up the stairs. The manager-type was not finished though. “Good luck, take two boy. Four hand massage. Good relax!” This was followed by a wink and a naughty smile.
He agreed and the ‘boy’ was joined by another. Upstairs, there was a shower and the ‘massage boys’ undressed him before removing their own clothing. They soaped his body and did the same to themselves. He tried to act with modesty and not look although he really wanted to.
The massage room was not private - the top was open and various cubicles had been cordoned off - which meant you could hear what was happening next door. There was the smell of incense in the air.
“Lie down.”
He did so on his back.
“No turn around.”
He smiled and decided to surrender to the experience.
The ‘massage boys’ gently massaged his back and worked their way down. He knew they were also naked as their genitals hit his body every now and then. This excited him.
“Turn over please.”
He did but there was way of hiding his half erect penis.
There was no comment and they continued to massage his arms and legs. When they were finished they sat next to him and slowly started to move down his stomach until they gently massaged his genitals. One sets of hands on each testicle. His hand was soon feeling their erections. So this is what a ‘happy ending’ was. Eventually they were all masturbating and when he came, they stopped even though they hadn’t.
He felt so relaxed he didn’t want to stand up, it was expected and they let him lie there for a few minutes while they gently moved their hands over his arms.
“We shower.”
He found himself back in the shower being soaped again and thanked the ‘massage boys’ once he was clothed and back at the manager’s desk. It was then that he saw the notice, which read: ‘Massage 650 baht and minimum tip for ‘massage boy’ 900 baht’. He smiled realizing that the service offered to him was not for free, paid and the ‘boys’ took him downstairs. The rain had stopped and as he stood in the doorway the one ‘boy’ said, “My name, Chet,” he pointed to the other ‘boy’. “He Nom, he from Cambodia. Big cock Cambodia!”
“Hi Chet, nice to meet you,” he said in return, also laughing at the extra piece of information that had been shared. “Hello, big Nom.”
“Next time come, visit here. Make you happy.”
He reminisced of the experience and how much he had enjoyed it, partly because it was new and partly because the ‘boys’ were so cute. And return he did, every time he came to Bangkok he would spend one night in a bar and the next day he would visit the ‘gay massage’ shop. Chet would always welcome him back like a long lost friend and sadly big Nom had returned to Cambodia.
Over the next few visits, he spoke more and more to Chet and soon found out that he was studying during the morning to be a hairdresser.
“I open shop,” Chet said. “Then no longer be ‘massage boy’.”
“I understand.” This life was not easy and he was glad that Chet could see a way out of it.
Whenever he returned after that, he would track Chet’s progress through the course until he qualified and proudly announced, “I open shop next month, last month as ‘massage boy’.”
After all of the progress reports and knowing what the goal was, he was sad that he would no longer see him. It was a new path in his life and it meant that he would leave this work behind him - another moral statement.
Back, now he was back. After believing in his future prospects, studying to be something else, he was back to being a ‘massage boy’. Why was he so upset about this? Why was he so vested in this? He didn’t know. But there he sat staring at the passing carts selling food and he thought life is so unfair.
New Jersey-
16.
His hair-brai
ned scheme is all he has left and he hopes it will work out. The chances ...?
It had started with the sms to Susan:
sorry i have not responded. finding it all a bit crazy. i want to do another press conference. can you organise for tomorrow morning. same as last time.
There was no doubt that she was worried as well as angry with him. She had responded:
sure. but think we need to talk afterwards
He had not responded to this initially but then thought if this was going to work he needed her help.
thanks
Next he had called a transfer service and enquired if they had a driver that could drive a car to a specific point and leave it there? He also described the kind of person he was looking for, features that most closely matched his own. They had thought it was a hoax and had nearly hung up. It was only once he had explained that he was the assistant of someone ‘famous’ that needed a diversion that they started to listen. It was going to look like a delivery or something like that. The fact that he had negotiated the price and agreed to pay the driver in cash ensured the confirmation. He specified the time that the driver be dropped off; the car would need to be driven in through the electronic gates, the drop off would take place and then straight out again. He hoped that this would make the paparazzi think it was something else.
Finally, he had scrounged around the house for a hat and dark glasses, which looked cheap but he didn’t care, he had packed and then spent the night tossing and turning without getting any sleep.
Now he is sitting waiting for the driver to be dropped off. He has let them know to hoot three times and he will open the gate. Waiting at the door and making sure his silhouette is not seen, he hears the three sharp hoots. He opens the gate and the car drives in, the driver disembarks wearing a pizza delivery outfit. What the hell is going on? In his hand he holds a carrier for food and walks to the door. Does he open the door or not? In the end he opens the door and the driver walks in.
Seeing the look of horror on his face, he driver says, “You said it was supposed to look like a delivery. Don’t worry I have other clothes in the carrier. Now open the gate and let them out.”
Feeling immense relief he opens the gate and closes the door behind him.
