by Jay J Carr
“Hi, thanks for coming,” he says, while looking over the man for the first time. He does not look like him at all. The only thing they have in common is height and hair color. He wants to say something but it is too late and the plan will have to go ahead as agreed.
“Howzit,” the man responds.
He just smiles and leads the man to the kitchen. He hands over the money which has been placed in an envelope. The man opens it and carefully counts the cash. He doesn’t talk he only smiles.
“So I am going to explain what you need to do, and I need you to do this exactly as I say. Understand?”
The man nods but says nothing.
“I am going to give you the keys to my car. Inside the car you will find a remote control to open the garage door. You will then reverse out quickly, close the garage door while you drive away. Drive as fast as you can to the following address.” He hands him a piece of paper. “You know where this is?”
Again the man nods.
“I don’t care if you go through red traffic lights, kill people on route, just drive like a bat out of hell.”
This time the smile is filled with a glint of something.
“Once you get there, there is another red remote control in the car with two buttons on it. You use the right one - the boom will open allowing you access inside the office park - you use the left one and the gate will open to the parking area. You then go and park in the basement. There will be a lady waiting there. And then …” he struggles to say this, “I want you to say sorry.”
The man watches in amused silence.
“That’s it.”
“Anything you don’t understand.”
“Nope,” the man responds for the first time.
He looks at his watch and knows the car from the airline will be arriving in five minutes. This part of the operation will need to begin in three minutes. “I am going to walk with you to the garage and show you the remotes. Once I say go, you go.”
They walk in silence to the garage and in the dim light the man gets into the car. He looks again at his watch. He picks up the remote control for the garage door and shows it to the man. The man nods. The second hand goes slowly round and the suspense is killing him. He walks to the entrance of the house and as he crosses the threshold gives the thumbs up. The garage door opens as he closes the door behind him. He makes his way into the kitchen and watches as the paparazzi in shock, reel from their present positions and race after the car. This time round because of the ‘press conference’ there are only a handful and so he has managed to clear them away from the house.
He gets his suitcase and is about to leave when he realizes that he doesn’t have his passport with him. Where the hell is it? Panic, panic and more panic as he rushes around aware that he is running out of precious time. Running from one room to another, he opens his desk and sees it lying there. As this has been a shock he quickly checks to see that he has his wallet and other important documents. He does, so makes his way back to the door not bothering about the alarm. The front door closes behind him and he opens the electronic gate where the car is discreetly waiting for him. So far so good.
Bangkok-
17.
Hurtle was going through the footage screaming, “This is all over the fucking place. I should have been there. I fucking knew it.”
“I’m sorry,” Tod replied, but he knew that Hurtle was pissed and he had done a lousy job.
“A fucking hooker could have done a better interview than this.”
“Oh wait, a fucking hooker did do the fucking interview,” he snorted.
Tod felt his breath constrict. Hurtle knew about the previous week, he had been caught out. An underage girl – what would the network say?
“How did you find out?” Tod said, the back of his throat dry.
“By watching the fucking footage, fuckwit.”
Tod felt confused and then realised that Hurtle was referring to today’s interview and felt really stupid. He was losing it. Like a little child overwhelmed with stuff, he couldn’t stay calm and be rational. It didn’t change the fact that Hurtle was pissed at him.
Trying to hatch a plan and resolve the issue, he said, “I could do it again. Call the Thai producer and ask him to bring the ‘boy’ back.”
“And now he’s a fucking ‘boy’! Are you in the colonies?” The sarcasm was thick in the air.
“That’s what he called himself, a ‘boy’.”
“Well Matey, that is what those Southerners called their people, so I guess it’s apt.”
“Fuck the name,” Tod retorted. “I can get him back.”
Hurtle was pacing, tapping his phone screen with his nail.
“We are going to cut and edit it, and you are going to do voice overs.”
Tod was about to protest but knew he had lost this round.
That Place-
18.
The night is humid and the perspiration is dripping off him. He is seated at the restaurant drinking an iced watermelon drink and not his usual coffee. There is an air of melancholy in the Soi.
He doesn’t feel like going to the show at the bar, nor does he feel like a massage. Tonight he feels suicidal because he doesn’t see his purpose anymore. The advertisement on the website had said that Nembutal was easily available in Thailand and yet he couldn’t find any. If he was going to commit suicide this was going to be the only way to go. Lulled into sleep and then after a few minutes the body slowing down and finally stopping. He had even put an ad out requesting suppliers to contact him.
The year before he had done the same. He was contacted and was elated because he knew he could be free. The drug was not Nembutal, instead a medical liquid laxative - he had been glued to the toilet for two days, having carefully written suicide notes to his family but not to Charles. His body rejected all food that it had stored within it and after feeling drained and not able to leave his hotel room, he knew that he had been duped.
He was not angry; he had no energy for this.
The day before he got the drug, he decided to live out his sexual fantasy, thinking it would be his last. He had paid for two ‘boys’ and not for his customary one. He had done everything that he had ever fantasized about - fisting, spanking and pissing on them. The ‘boys’ were clearly shocked by the requests he had made, and he had to keep telling them he would pay more and more. In the end they had relented but were uncomfortable throughout the session.
He had paid them even more than he agreed; he wasn’t going to need money anymore. Where there had been faces of disgust and un-comfortableness these were replaced with joy at what had been placed in their hands. He did not feel guilty, well that was not technically correct, some guilt but had justified his actions because of the fact that he was going to die the next day.
Then the letdown, the deflation of his hopes.
And here he sits again a year later, frustrated that he cannot get even a single response to his current ad. He is so desperate, he has even asked one of the ‘boys’ from the bar, but he had quickly shaken his head and said, “Don’t do drug.” He decides it is futile trying to explain that this wasn’t cocaine or marijuana but something that helped you die.
And so he sits, staring into space. His hope disappearing once more into the humid air of the night.
New Jersey-
19.
He feels for the first time that he can relax sitting in the first class cabin, processing what has happened. Chaos is behind him and he is moving towards calm. He can’t believe that everything has worked out and yet it has. This was the stuff for movies, not for real life. Everything had fitted into place and just when he did not have an idea of how he was going to handle something, the solution had popped into his head.
His last worry was that someone would recognize him, one of the other first class passengers. When boarding did commence, he made sure to read the magazine and half cover his face. The seats were like little cabins so only those passing by were able to see him but he nee
dn’t have worried, as there were only two other passengers in the first class cabin.
What is it to be numb? To no longer feel? To no longer connect? It has to be the feeling he was currently experiencing. He has left behind his work, his house, had lost his partner and the dogs. Even the dogs, he thought he was going to miss them the most. But there is no feeling left that allows him to do so.
He has no plans once he gets to Singapore but that is not a worry anymore. He would be, he would try and find himself again.
Bangkok-
20.
Tod wanted to understand more. He needed to make peace with this story. Things were not making sense. Yes the guy paid for sex but no one had described him as a demon. The words, ‘he was a good man’ return again and again and he was confused.
It was during the taxi ride that he started to think about what he had experienced the week before. The story, the person, this country, the gayness. That Soi with the bars overflowing with decadence, alien experiences, emptiness.
The streets of Bangkok were never quiet; there were always people on them. The neon, the lights, the animals roaming the streets, juxtaposed with the 7-Eleven’s, the tuk-tuk’s and soaring buildings made of steel and glass. He would never understand it all but then he didn’t have to.
He knew when they were approaching the Soi. The last time he had been there, he had been to the show, which had left him uncomfortable but had realised why. The naked men, the men dressed as women, these things were not part of his life, his context. Seeing these things, seeing the effeminacy, seeing the simulated sex between men, this was going to be uncomfortable. He knew he didn’t want to go into one of the bars but he needed to walk down the alleyway once more, needed to look around, needed to understand.
After he had exited the taxi he stood for a few seconds at the entrance to the Soi - the music was pumping, the lights were flashing, people moved about. He hesitated and thought maybe he should not go, but he could not explain it, his mind was being rational and telling him not to go, his body was telling him differently and he started to move slowly like a somnambulist. As he walked down, people touched him, spoke to him, tried to hustle him into bars. Men walked by with fake blow up penises in pink and green, some handed out pamphlets with half naked men. He did not react, or respond, he continued to walk slowly. Although outside was frenetic, inside he was calm.
The customers were mostly older men, some really old. They were surrounded by young men, ‘boys,’ but in their faces they were still lonely and there was melancholy.
Tod was outside the cafe where they had first met the Mama-san and he felt his legs walk him to a table at the back of the seating area. He ordered a coffee and sat back in his chair to watch. An explanation an understanding was required. At the end of the first night he understood the mechanics of it.
The next two nights he returned and sat at the table and watched for up to three hours at a time. He was like the old men that sat and stared blankly into space. There was a lot of noise but very little talking at the tables. Around them activity bustled, the ‘boys’ were alive and moving and laughing and joking. Community, there was some kind of community. Scouts tried to get customers into the bars to watch shows. They would physically tug some, make jokes with others, but try whatever it took. The Soi was different around show times as then straight couples were also seen walking around. They peered around with tourist eyes, looking an abnormal amount of time at things, staring included looking at him sitting in the chair. Their eyes judged, or maybe not, but he was amazed at how they looked at him.
There were girls from Australia loud with bravado; there were men from Japan, serene and focused. This place did not even feel real, an imaginary place. Unlike the bars for straight men across the road, this Soi was a place of its own and unless you entered it you would never know what lay beyond.
It was on the second night that his body, not his mind, told him what to do. He paid for his drink and found himself moving slowly in reverse back up to the entrance of the Soi, across the street and towards the ‘Pussy Palace’. He couldn’t stop walking as much as he wanted to - he didn’t want to do this, but no matter what his mind said, his legs wouldn’t listen.
He was seated once more on the bench and the Mama-san greeted him like a long lost friend. After initial small talk, he ordered his drink in order to keep her busy, as it was not her that he was interested in. There on the stage, there she stood not making eye contact with him.
“Please can you ask her to come here.”
“Which one?” the Mama-san asked coyly, as if she was in no way an accomplice before.
“The same one,” he said, without looking her in the eye.
“Good choice,” she clucked. “She very popular.”
The Mama-san screamed at the top of her lungs in Thai and her hand was extended with only the fingertips pointing downwards and moving around. The girl hesitated but then walked over. This time she was not smiling. The Mama-san smacked her on her butt and then clucked as she forced her to sit down next to him.
Tod couldn't look at her said, “Hi, how are you?”
“Good,” she replied without emotion. “How about you?”
“Good, thanks,” he said mechanically.
The Mama-san was in his face again. “Drink, drink for the ladeeeee.”
“Yes, of course,” he said.
She spoke to the Mama-san who again screamed out something in Thai. During this time he did not look at her, nor did he say anything more. She did not say anything either, the sound of the music and bass punctuating the room.
The drink arrived and the Mama-san reappeared, with a drink in her own hand and insisted they all say, “Cheers, for luck.” The glasses clinked together, they all took a sip and then the voice spoke again, “So you look for good time?”
He smiled awkwardly but did not say anything. This had been a terrible mistake. What could he do?
“I will take her,” he heard himself say.
“Good,” was the response and the Mama-san was quickly up to organise the check. She yelled, “Girl go change, waiting 2 minute.” The Mama-san returned with the check and he pulled out his wallet to pay. Again she clucked as he left the money in the folder and she quickly walked away. There were no other customers in the bar and he was being looked at by all of the girls. That loneliness that had followed him from the other side of the road infused here. The Mama-san returned with the girl who had changed into her clothes. He folded the bills and placed them in his pocket and stood up. It was while he walked out of the bar that the sound of the Mama-san soared up, “Have goooood time.”
They were on the street and he turned to look her in the face, “I am sorry for the way I acted last time.”
She looked confused.
“Last time,” he said more slowly, “I was not good to you.”
She didn’t look at him but gave a nervous smile. “Good, good,” she said. It was that ‘good’ word again, which meant so many things in this country.
Tod looked at her once again and said, “I would like us to eat something together? Is this okay?”
She looked at him, “Yes … yes …”
Tod did not know that he was going to eat, but he was on autopilot and whatever came out, he followed.
It was once they were seated and she was sipping her water that he looked over her young face, her deep brown eyes, and her beautiful skin. “How old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
It was worse than he had thought.
“I am old enough to be your father.”
The smile was innocent and again she said nothing.
“I don’t want to do anything more with you.” Then careful she did not misinterpret what he had said, “Not because you are not really beautiful … It’s just that I wanted to say sorry.”
Again she looked confused but she touched his hand. “No need say sorry.”
“No, I need to do it.”
Their food arrived and the next minut
e was filled with food being moved around the table. When the silence had settled, he smiled at her and said, “Please enjoy your meal.”
“Kapunka,” she said, and slowly began to eat.
The rest of the meal was in complete silence but he felt a tremendous weight shift off him, and his body and mind were once more reunited. At the end of the meal he carefully prepared money for her. He counted it under the table so as not to bring attention to himself, and gave it to her by placing it into her palm as he touched her hand.
Again she smiled and said, “Kapunka.”
He stood up and walked out onto the Soi. She initiated the hug and she squeezed him tightly. She then raised her hands up in traditional Thai greeting and said goodbye.
Once more alone in a taxi he was on his way through the streets of Bangkok.
That Place-
21.
He is listening to an audiobook on Adam Smith while watching half naked men, flaunting themselves at passers by. What would he have said about the sale of your body in exchange for money? What is a fair transaction?
Looking around the Soi he realises that he is trying to justify himself. What a dickhead he is. Trying to act as if all of this doesn’t matter, and yet it does.
New Jersey-
22.
The airhostess comes around to take his drink and dinner order. There is a menu, not those horrible foil boxes that you get in coach. He looks over the menu but can’t decide. Isn’t it ironic that there has been so much decision making over the last few days but he can’t select a meal. In the end he simply points and the airhostess confirms he is having roast chicken with a medley of vegetables. He smiles back but does not say anything. After the food, after the wine, the exhaustion not tiredness envelops him. He feels himself descending into a tunnel. It is black and dark and silent.
For the first time in weeks, he lies back and falls into one of the deepest sleeps ever.
