Money Boy

by Paul Yee

  “Watch the game,” he whispers. “Pretend you are at home with your family.”

  I lie on my side. Han hovers behind me. He gently pulls me against him, and then his hands wander over my upper body, rubbing small circles into my chest and arms. The tobacco odor on him is strong. It reminds me of Ba and makes me choke on a breath.

  “Relax,” he says again. “You can enjoy this, if you want.”

  His lips and chin nudge my ears and neck. There is fresh mouthwash on his breath.

  What a gentleman, I tell myself. What a thoughtful man. I tremble, and keep my eyes on the action on the TV screen. Han wriggles closer and the solid muscles of his chest and thighs press into me. He is an old man, but he is in better shape than me. His breathing is hot at my back, and his entire body is warm.

  I fold myself into him. It feels fine.

  TEN

  When I awake, it is late afternoon. Of course I slept in. I didn’t get back to the hostel until dawn.

  My bonus free night at the hostel turned out to be a room to myself. What a treat. What perfect timing.

  I congratulate myself. I’m not a virgin anymore! I’m all grown up now.

  I relive last night over and over, moment by moment. Han and I, we feasted over a Vietnamese meal. We competed fiercely at the bowling alley. He trusted me enough to take off his wig!

  Last night confirms it. I’m gay. I roll the words over my tongue, in English and in Chinese.

  Homosexual.

  Wo shi tong xing lian de.

  I want to shout this out to Ba and Niang, Wei and Kai, Jian and Carla, Mila and Jenny. Now I’m the man I’m supposed to be.

  My stomach rumbles. I throw on my clothes from yesterday, sniffing at them for traces of Han. Then I hurry up Church Street to the coffee bar. The sky is bright blue. A biting wind whips down from the north, but I hardly feel the cold.

  The coffee bar is warm with rich smells of fresh coffee and baking sugar. I’m starved, so all the food looks good. I choose Italian biscotti, Danish pastries, English scones and Swiss chocolate cake. The clerk loading up my tray smiles.

  “So good to see someone with an appetite!” she exclaims. “Most of our customers eat too carefully.”

  “I’m very hungry,” I tell her.

  Walking to my table, I see that most customers buy only one piece of food. They dip a biscuit into their drink or nibble slowly on a muffin. They look very serious.

  I want to raise my espresso cup and shout to everyone, “Hey, look around! It’s a beautiful day!”

  I check the newspaper for today’s date so I can carve it into my brain. Of course this is a big deal, doing the deed and doing it safely. I look up and grin at people passing by. No one returns the smile.

  It’s frustrating to have good news without anyone to tell. When Jenny got her driver’s license, she texted us and we all met at the mall in half an hour. When Kai learned that he would be spending the summer in China, we got so giddy that it felt as if everyone was going.

  So what do I say?

  I’m gay. Ba found out and kicked me out of the house. I lost my ID and my cell and then my laptop. But I met new people downtown, very different people. Out there, it’s easier to be your own person.

  Yeah, I sell my body for sex. It’s no big deal. We all need money, the more the better. We all want sex, the sooner the better.

  I’ll tell them that I wasn’t sure. I’ll say that the only way to be a hundred percent was to try gay sex. I can’t admit being too afraid to come out. They’ll laugh and accuse me of being old-fashioned. I’ll tell them how great it was to see another human body get turned on the same way as mine. They’ll never know how exciting a man’s body is. It’s all beautiful. I want more and don’t want to hide myself.

  My fingers itch to flick open a cell and start texting. They must be out of shape from lack of use. Better do warmups and exercises. Maybe full-body pushups on my fingertips?

  I want to add jokes and funny details to my story, to make my friends laugh. It’s up to me to show them that I like things this way. If they don’t accept me, then it’s too bad for them. I’ll find new friends in the gay world, like Han.

  Wait. Can I still be in the gang if I don’t see my friends every day in class? Am I going back to school?

  Don’t worry about school. That means going home and facing Ba. That’s a dead end.

  I hate how all this gloomy stuff squashes my good feelings. Rot that dog-fart father of mine!

  I can’t sit still. I’m still hungry so I go to Rainbow Sushi. Now I have enough money to eat chirashi every day. And I can watch that Lawrence. Too bad he’s married already. I guess that’s another reason for me to come out now. Soon all the good-looking men will be taken.

  On the door of Rainbow Sushi, a sign announces Friday Afternoon Song Time, All Welcome.

  Inside, I get slammed to the wall by “Big Ocean,” the howling love song from Taiwan. A portable keyboard sits by the loudspeaker. On the TV, the singer sings with his entire body.

  When my friends and I go to a K-bar, we do the same. Crouch from the knees, fill the gut with power and then belt out notes like baseball players hitting home runs.

  The crowd is a mix of Asian men, all ages. Some are in business dress. That startles me until I tell myself that I lost a day but found a new life. Chen hands out cold beer as he comes toward me.

  “Wah! You look good!” he trills in Chinese. He gives me a squishy hug. “Is it the daytime sunlight, or have you met someone special?”

  I pull back. His sissy manners make me wish I had gone somewhere else. But the music here is perfect.

  “Do you sing?” Chen asks. “Or play the piano?”

  “I have no talent.” I gesture at the crowd. “You are wise. You draw afternoon customers and fill up the slow time.”

  “People want a comfortable place where they can have fun.”

  “Does everyone perform?” I ask.

  “Of course! And everyone wants to see your fresh face!” Chen heads off but spins around. “Hey, the other night, I meant to ask you if you were looking for work. We always need extra help.”

  But now I can make much more money on Boy Street.

  “Of course you have plans already!” He grins at my hesitation. “Just give me your telephone number, in case of an emergency.”

  I give him the hostel’s phone number and an order for sushi.

  “Want me to introduce you to people?” he asks. “The younger ones are here today.”

  “How about I eat first?”

  Young strangers are frightening. Chen was easy. He parked himself at my table and tank-rolled into my life. Han and I, we did business so that proved easy, too. Besides, Chen and Han are older and know how to chat. Younger men laughing in a circle, they’re a fortress with no door. A stranger can walk around them and around them and never find an opening. It’s safer to sit back and act bored.

  The karaoke machine makes raindrop sounds. “Family Too Far” is a tough song to sing, with high soaring notes and fast and slow lines. Its original singer moved to Canada before Hong Kong was returned to China. When I lived in Beijing, I didn’t respect stars who abandoned the homeland. Now I’m here in Canada, while he’s gone back to China.

  The chorus lyrics are strong yet touching: We have no family, our name is orphan, going home is a call inside a dream. There is anger and then soft dreams and love. The words are bittersweet but the melody lifts us.

  The audience gets teary-eyed and everyone sings the refrain. I join in, too, under my breath.

  Lawrence greets me with my food. “Your name is Ray, isn’t that so?”

  He remembered my name! I nod eagerly. He’s not dressed for work today. Instead, a button-down collar shirt and Dockers give him the smooth look of the well educated. He looks like what every Chinese mother wants her son to become.
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  “Are you singing?” I ask.

  Before he can reply, Chen calls him away. At the front, they pick up mikes. The audience hoots and makes catcalls.

  “No costumes?”

  “Show some skin!”

  “Bring on the dancers!”

  They perform an English-language song. Chen and Lawrence talk their way into it. They each sing single lines. During pauses, the other one does background yeah-yeah-yeah’s or no-no-no’s. Their voices harmonize. Their gazes meet. They hug each other and hit the high notes together. Everyone cheers.

  The song has a catchy beat. One minute Chen and Lawrence croon to one another like lovers in a tight duet. Next minute they throw their arms out to plead with the crowd. Their voices meld into one. People shout for more.

  What a show! I jump up and clap, hands above my head. Lawrence and Chen kiss each other on the lips and bow to the crowd.

  They bring wet beers to sit with me. They are catching their breaths.

  “I’m your fan forever!” I exclaim. “I never saw men sing like that!”

  “Copied it from Hollywood,” Lawrence says.

  “A movie about karaoke, in America,” Chen adds. “We watched it tens of thousands of times.”

  “You two should enter contests,” I declare. “You’d win for sure!”

  “No, thanks.” Lawrence shakes his head.

  “Do you like restaurant work?” I sound like an old man to ask that question but I can’t be shy anymore. This is the start of a new life!

  He shrugs. “I was a banker until I got laid off.”

  “Banker?” I never would have guessed.

  “My MBA is from Harvard,” he adds proudly. “So this is just a temporary situation.”

  “He wants to return to China,” says Chen.

  “That would be great,” I say.

  “And he will not go,” Lawrence interrupts, pointing at his partner.

  “How can he?” I recall details from two days ago. “His family lives there.”

  “We can disappear into any city in China. His wife would never find us,” Lawrence declares. “Truth is, he has fallen in love with Canada!”

  “Hah!” Chen makes a sour face. “This one says that as long as we make lots of money, we will be happy in China.”

  “And he says he must live openly as a gay man,” Lawrence retorts, “otherwise he says he will be miserable.”

  “No one has rights there!” Chen says. “We will never have any freedom.”

  “If we have money, people will leave us alone. Who cares about human rights?”

  “I do.”

  “I should never have married you,” he jokes.

  “What will you do?” I ask. Lawrence is young and good-looking. He has a future to look forward to!

  “Fight to the death!” they chime together.

  A hand lands on my shoulder. I turn around.

  It’s my father. He wears his black leather jacket and looks like a cop.

  “Rui-yong,” he says, “time to go.”

  He’s the last person in the world I want to see.

  Chen sticks his hand out to shake.

  “Come, have a seat,” he says to Ba, gesturing to a table.

  Ba squints at Chen’s eye makeup. He doesn’t offer his hand. Lawrence notices and frowns.

  I throw one arm around Chen and pull him close, as if he’s my closest friend.

  “This is Old Chen,” I tell Ba. “He’s from Beijing, too. He helped me out.” And I say to Chen, “This is my father.”

  “Good to meet you!” Chen exclaims, ignoring Ba’s insult.

  “And this is Fung Li-jian, or Lawrence,” I say. “He’s a banker. He has an MBA from Harvard. He is Old Chen’s wife!”

  Without a word to my friends, Ba drags me away to the corner near the front door.

  “I said, let’s go,” he says. His gaze is fixed on me, as if he’s afraid to look around this place.

  “You kicked me out,” I retort. “You don’t want me.”

  “I’m your father.”

  He has visited the barber since last week. Barbs of white stick out of his crew cut.

  “Five days have gone by!” I sputter.

  “You wouldn’t answer your cell,” he says accusingly.

  “I got robbed!”

  “I walked up and down this street yesterday. I went into every store. I got wet as a chicken in soup.” He pulls my arm. “Let’s go home.”

  The word “home” tugs at my heart, but I’m still angry. Chen and Lawrence peer over at us.

  “I’ve changed,” I declare. “I’m a different person now. You don’t know me.”

  Ba stares blankly at me, waiting.

  Finally I say, “If I go home, then what?”

  “Go back to school. Study hard to enter college. Make your grandfather and your mother proud. You’ll stop visiting those gay sites. And never talk about gay matters again.”

  I explode into little pieces. My hands fly up. They almost grab his throat and squeeze.

  The front door opens, and Han walks in.

  “Ba, you better go,” I say.

  “Take some money.” Ba reaches for me but I fling him off.

  I want to rush to Han, throw my arms around him and pull his solid body into mine. But I’m not as brave as I thought, not with Ba standing there.

  “Ray, you’re here, too!” Han exclaims.

  “What’s up?” I ask cheerfully.

  “Came to sing, to relax. Just like you.”

  Ba barges in and shoves Han away.

  “Leave him alone,” he hisses.

  “Don’t push!” Han shoves back. “I’m his friend. Who are you?”

  “My son does not need friends such as you.”

  Han glances at me. “What do you want, Ray?”

  “Let me run my own life!” I shout.

  Ba curses me loudly, and then dashes out the door.

  Lawrence pulls me to the booth, to my sushi.

  “Don’t pay your father any attention,” he says. “You’re old enough to decide for yourself.”

  Chen brings me a can of Coke. I pour it down my throat to wash away the bad taste in my mouth

  The younger crowd moves away from the K-machine to surround Han. They call his name and kiss and hug him. The older men hang back and chat among themselves. They seem wary of Han, watching him with guarded eyes. The crowd breaks into two noisy clusters.

  Chen brings over the young men and introduces them. They tell me their surnames and where in China they come from, but the details don’t stick in my mind. They ask how long I’ve been in Canada, what kind of work I do, and where the best Beijing food can be found in Toronto. I tell them about Niang’s restaurant. I try to find out if these men live nearby or in the immigrant suburbs. Ba made me lose my appetite, so I’m happy to share my sushi with these new faces.

  Han interrupts and pulls me away. I offer him some sushi.

  “I have business to tend to,” he says, holding up his cell. “How about we meet tomorrow?”

  “Sure!” He wants to see me again! He’s not bothered by Ba’s rudeness. I knew he wouldn’t be. He’s too cool.

  At the keyboard, someone is playing “I Believe.” The song is upbeat. People are dancing. It is one of the few Chinese songs without the sappy romantic stuff about love and loss. In fact, Lawrence resembles one of the actors in the MV version, all successful and high-fiving his colleagues. Someone grabs the mike and I join him. I dance, too, closing my eyes to let my body find the music.

  I shake my head hard, trying to escape the gloom that Ba threw onto me.

  I made Ba lose face in front of my new friends. Ba will hate me forever. I doubt that I’ll ever see him again. We’re finished. Our family is finished.

  Then I�
��m singing the words on the screen.

  Believe in me and tomorrow is yours,

  Believe in youth and the energy roars.

  When I rejoin the crowd, Lawrence gives me a big hug.

  “You should sing more often. You have a good voice!”

  In our family, Ba claims to have the best voice for karaoke.

  Then Old Chen nudges me.

  “You met Mr. Han, have you?”

  “Just yesterday.”

  “Stay away from him. He’s a pimp.”

  I don’t miss a beat.

  “I know,” I declare. “I met him on Boy Street. How do you think we became acquainted?”

  Chen and Lawrence glance at one other.

  “Don’t go to him again,” says Chen. “His kind of money comes easily, but there are better ways to live.”

  “You’re young,” says Lawrence. “Your life is just starting. Go home with your father.”

  They’re all the same, these old men, trying to squash the energies of young people. I feel sorry for them.

  “This was great!” I gesture at the karaoke machine and keyboard. I give them cheerful goodbyes, pretending not to be bothered.

  “You haven’t finished your sushi!” Chen exclaims.

  I’m already out the door.

  I’m the world’s biggest fool.

  Only an idiot presumes that an elegant big-shot such as Mr. Han might be interested in an immigrant nobody called Ray.

  Han owns fine artwork and has a great body. He knows gay life in Toronto backwards and forwards.

  Less than a week ago, I was hiding in the closet afraid of being gay.

  I thought that Han liked me, enjoyed my company and wanted to be a friend!

  I was so happy to give myself to him! He was gentle. He patiently explained things. He told me over and over how handsome I was.

  Instead I was being led around like a toddler taking his very first steps. He was checking me out, to see if I would fit into his business. I was nothing to him but another body on Boy Street.

  ELEVEN

  Internet cafés are costly and hard to find now that everyone owns a laptop.

  After leaving yesterday’s K-party at Rainbow Sushi, I went to a basement shop for on-line gamers and bought a block of computer time. It was cheaper that way.