by Z. Allora
“Yeah, actually, there’s a couple. One is a trailer for a game show they’ll be on, and a few others are just silly.” Jordon loved when someone shared his… interest.
Josh shifted and patted the place between him and Robin. “Well, let’s see it.”
Jordon eased back down and clicked on the Rip Tear trailer with the speed of a skilled stalker.
By the time the clip ended, Dare, Dusty, and Angel had all squeezed in around him and his laptop, watching the trailer.
“Hey, wait. Let’s see this one again. It’s my favorite.” Angel reached over Dare and Robin and tapped the curser on a music video.
The video opened. Made in China took to the darkened stage in traditional Chinese opera costumes, each band member standing in a spotlight, holding traditional instruments. The bottom left identified the song as “Evolution.”
“Evolution” was the first video Jordon had showed the Dark Angels. Angel credited the band’s viewing of “Evolution” as the moment that convinced them to consider Made in China for an opening act for their upcoming tour. Jordon should be content knowing he helped draw attention to Made in China’s talent, and if his involvement impacted his crush in a positive way, all the better.
The video started with flutes and plucking strings on a ruan, or Chinese guitar, accompanying Tian Di as he glided toward center stage, trailing the hem of a light pink embroidered robe across the floor. Colorfully stitched birds perched on cherry blossom branches covered the expanse of silk. As he reached the spotlight, he thrust his arms up, and white waterfall sleeves shot out of the jacket and into the air before the silk gracefully fell in ripples at his sides.
Flowers dangled from the ornamental sticks holding his ebony hair in a knot at the back of his head. His makeup blurred the line between Goth and Chinese opera, heavy black eyeliner making his eyes appear huge.
How many times had Jordon caught himself sketching Tian Di Zhao?
He couldn’t deny he was drawn to gender ambiguity, Goth, and tradition. Maybe he tried to capture Tian Di’s essence so he might be able to understand why a man half a world away enchanted him.
“Geez, if I didn’t know he was a guy…,” Dare said to no one in particular. “The singer’s movements are graceful, and the way he wears that kimono—”
“In China it’s robes,” Captain Know-It-All Dusty corrected.
Angel pulled Dare against him. “He’s got a voice, no doubt about it.”
Dusty shook his head during an unexpected drum solo that cut into and around the traditional flute and ruan. “I can’t imagine doing that in those heavy robes.”
As if the statement was a decree, the traditional Chinese clothing vanished with a bit of choppy editing. The band appeared, wearing black T-shirts and jeans, playing their usual instruments. The beat increased in intensity and speed.
“I love how they keep the same melody while rockafying it.” Robin’s label of the style was accurate.
The guitar, bass, and keyboard gave the song a driving, almost heavy metal sound.
“The evolution is really good. Get it? ‘Evolution’ is the name of the song.” Josh apparently got Dare’s meaning, because they fist-bumped.
Beep.
At the simultaneous announcement of a text message, Angel and Dusty pulled their cell phones out of their pockets.
“Fuck!” Angel glared at his phone.
“She’ll fix it,” Dusty said.
Jordon’s stomach dropped. “What?”
“One of Made in China’s band members is having trouble getting a visa for travel outside of China because his mother wasn’t married to his father when he was born. Apparently certain paperwork and identification cards are necessary to get a passport.”
Josh scoffed. “What kind of backward shit is that?”
Robin petted his hand. “It’s how they do things in their country.”
Chapter 2
TIAN DI stared at his computer screen, glad the bedroom door remained shut so his bandmates couldn’t hear his mother. Why did he let his guard down?
“I am serious, Tian Di. When are you going to cut your hair? You look more like a woman than your sister!” Tian Di’s mother complained for the second time in the three minutes of their Skype video chat.
And he hadn’t even called her.
“Mother,” Tian Di and his sister said in unison.
His older sister, Zhang Min, scrunched in close to their mom. She was the only reason he stayed on the call. She had always been on his side, and he’d always been on hers.
The ongoing long-hair battle he’d won only after moving from Hong Kong. The memory of being physically dragged to the barber and having his hair hacked off still made him break out in a cold sweat.
Refusing to accept his long hair proved to be only a symptom. Most of his family refused to deal with his attraction to men. Somehow the length of his hair was connected—in his mother’s head—to his sexuality.
“His hair is beautiful, Mom. Leave him alone.” Zhang Min stopped glaring at their mother to smile at him. “Tian Di, did you get the hair oil I sent, or did customs snatch the bottle?”
Zhang Min remained the only one in the Zhao family who accepted everything about him. She’d been the first one he’d told when he figured out he liked guys. She’d hugged him while he tried not to cry, and then she shared her secret collection of yaoi with him. He’d realized he wasn’t alone in the world, and his life could get better; he just needed to be patient.
“Yes, I got the oil and the spearmint candy drops, thanks. That’s why I’m calling. To tell you the hair oil works great and smells incredible.” He called Zhang Min on her day off, which she usually spent reading. Their mother must have popped in for one of her surprise inspections.
His mother leaned closer to the screen and looked past him into his bedroom. “It’s midday. Why didn’t you make your futon yet?”
Tian Di looked back at his bed, which he didn’t return to futon sofa form unless he expected company. His comforter lay straight enough, though one pillow happened to be out of place. Thankfully, he’d put away his mangas. He certainly didn’t need her to spy his collection of yaoi.
“Just doing some stretches. I used the pillow.” He wouldn’t tell her for what, and was glad nothing else told tales on him.
“You need a woman to clean up after you. Are you dating a nice girl yet?”
What he craved was a nice man who was orally inclined, and then he wouldn’t have to worry about the flexibility of his spine.
Zhang Min rolled her eyes. “Mother, Tian Di is gay. He won’t be dating—”
His mother folded her arms across her chest. “No, he just hasn’t met the right woman. Nánrén sìshí yī duǒ huā, nǔrén sìshí dòufu zhā.”
Tian Di winced at the sexist proverb, which meant men of forty are a blooming flower; women of forty are dregs of bean curd.
Zhang Min grimaced. “Well, good to know. He’s got a long way before he turns forty. Thankfully, I’m still a few years away from being disgusting bean curd.”
Their mother seemed unconcerned with how her arrow pierced both her children. “Let me go stir the dumplings.”
He waited until his mother left the room. “You could be one hundred and forty years old and you would never be bean curd.”
Zhang Min laughed. “I’m not worried about it. Though she needs to join us in this century. Taiwan is getting close to legalizing same-sex marriage. Times are changing.”
Tian Di spun his silver ring with the musical notes circling the band. He wore the ring on the same finger that was believed to be directly linked to the heart. The ring was not only a declaration, but a reminder. Music was his first and only love.
The life he chose did not leave room for more than a temporary someone to fill the void. After all, no one would drop everything to go on tour with him. Or who would tolerate being separated for months at a time? No, even if China’s mainland legalized same-sex marriage, he wouldn’t get his hopes up.
“The world is changing, but you know she will never accept it or me. She’s like most people who deny and hope everything different disappears.” He tried not to let people’s ignorance get to him. His mother’s attitude only reinforced why he needed to get to Los Angeles or someplace where being gay wasn’t just tolerated but accepted as no big deal.
Zhang Min waved him off. “Well, I’m not going to support her delusions.”
Those were the delusions most of the country held. Beliefs many gay Chinese men held… even if they did enjoy sex with men.
“Did you meet anyone yet?” she continued.
“Other than my right hand?” And a few random men at the club. It was depressing. He twisted the ring reminding himself of his choice: music over love. “I’m focusing on my career.”
That sounded less pathetic than he had given up on love.
She grinned at him the same way she had when he was ten. “I can’t believe you’re going to be on Knock Your Socks Off. I love that show. What game are they making you play?”
“Suck and Blow.” Game, ha! More like sucking face on TV. The object was to pass a playing card between players by only sucking and blowing the card. Many times, the cards accidentally on purpose would fall and band members would kiss.
“Your singing career is starting to happen.”
“And I can’t let anything screw up my music.” If Tian Di wanted to be successful, he needed to keep singing as his top priority. Nothing could stand in the way. Once he became a success, he’d do things he wanted to.
His mother bustled back into the room and reclaimed her spot next to Zhang Min. “Why don’t you come work for your father?”
“Mother, you know I can’t.” He had no interest, nor did he have any talent for business.
His mother whined, “Tian Di, please consider coming home. Your father made a good position for you in the family business. You’d be director of sales, have your own apartment, car, and driver. Everyone would welcome you home.”
More like welcome him into an empty life of make-believe and misery, which would include a wife and a child. No, he wouldn’t settle for a lie. At fifteen he came out to his parents, but if they couldn’t hear he liked men, the fault didn’t belong to him. His mother had blamed his attraction to men on his love of yaoi and bootleg videos of Western movies.
“Mother, you know I can’t. Besides, the band is doing well.” For the first time, that wasn’t much of a stretch.
“What kind of life do you have? Take the position; then maybe your sister could focus on finding a husband so she can have a baby before she’s too old.”
Zhang Min sighed. “I love working.”
“And she’s good at marketing,” Tian Di added. Zhang Min had made a name for herself in their family’s company. She always had been a force of nature.
His mother tsked. “A woman should be raising children and taking care of the home.”
Tian Di’s mother avoided stepping into the twenty-first century by refusing to hear anything that didn’t reinforce her outdated beliefs. Her enduring motto was “respect tradition.” Too bad if that didn’t promote happiness.
“Argh, there’s no winning this argument. Call me later, Tian Di.” Zhang Min stomped away from the computer.
His mother’s hand fluttered to her chest. “I don’t understand.”
“I know, Mother. I will speak to you soon. Tell Father I wish him health.” Tian Di ended the call before his mother could say his father would want nothing from him except an acceptance of the position Tian Di had been offered.
Tian Di popped another melt-away spearmint that Zhang Min had sent, then grabbed the bottle of expensive hair oil and sniffed. She always spoiled him with presents, and he did the same whenever he had money. He put a coin-sized drop in his palm, ran the fragrant oil through the strands, and brushed until his hair shone.
Time to check on his bandmates.
He meandered out to the living room to find his bandmates sprawling, perched, or pacing. He kicked Indigo’s feet off the coffee table and dropped onto the sofa next to Li.
Indigo glared at Tian Di and put his bare feet back on the table, one at a time with a thud. He pulled Li closer to him. “About time you joined us.”
It hadn’t even been a year since he’d moved in with the other members of his band, but he couldn’t decide if living with the guys was a blessing or a curse. They were great, and he enjoyed having a group of friends, but Indigo Young could push his buttons way too easily.
Jin yanked at his naturally blond hair as he paced, driven by nervous energy he normally reserved for playing his guitar in front of a pack of screaming fans. “Guys, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know the government would give me trouble about traveling outside of China. I didn’t know the salon just paid off the Suzhou officials for my work visa.”
Two weeks and this bit of stress continued. They had their big break and were so close to making their dreams come true, but paperwork could stop everything.
Ashen-faced, Styx eased Jin’s hands out of his hair and dragged his boyfriend to the couch. They’d been through so much already; they didn’t need more anxiety.
Indigo growled, “I don’t understand this fuckery. What century are you people in?”
Did the guy think harsh words could change the way things were?
Indigo constantly defining the differences between China and America had gotten old. Tian Di had been born and raised in Hong Kong. He understood the differences better than most. “You people? You’re starting to sound racist.”
Indigo rolled his eyes. “I’m just as Asian as you.”
“Though much more insulting.” Tian Di said the words in English to ensure Indigo didn’t misunderstand. Tian Di wouldn’t let Indigo’s talent and connections stop him from speaking the truth.
Indigo glared. “Come on, Tian Di, this is bullshit! Just ’cause Jin’s mom had him without being married to his father, he can’t get a visa or a passport?”
Jin groaned, jumped off the sofa, and tried to wear a track into the wooden floors again.
“Come on, let’s remember Knock Your Socks Off decided to film on location in Suzhou, so we bought some more time to figure this out.” Funny how helping a guy save face in Suzhou’s only gay bar got Made in China this incredible gig. Apparently the relationship Tian Di helped the producer of the show secure had been going well enough, because he willingly agreed to shoot the South Korean TV show in Suzhou rather than cancel the band’s appearance.
Jin halted his circular trek around the room and wrung his hands. “This is going to screw everything up with the Dark Angels.”
Indigo shook his head. “I’m telling you, my dad said the Dark Angels’ management hasn’t contacted anyone else to open their shows in Asia. They want us.”
Tian Di begrudgingly gave Indigo points for rarely talking about his famous father and for wanting to earn his own place in life. But honestly, Tian Di wouldn’t have an issue with Indigo accepting parental help.
Styx dragged Jin back to the couch and threw an arm around him. “It will be okay. We’ll figure something out.”
Tian Di wasn’t thrilled to have his dream threatened either, but someone needed to be the voice of sanity and calm. “Jin, what exactly did the Dark Angels’ manager say?”
Jin shook his head. “She said she’d deal with it but didn’t say how.”
Indigo trained his glare on each of them. “What is she going to do? Just bribe the government officials to get you the right paperwork and stamps?”
Probably….
Li spoke up from beside Indigo. “We still have a couple weeks until the game show. Let’s focus on doing the best we can on Knock Your Socks Off. Shall we practice the two songs we get to play?”
TIAN DI couldn’t help but chuckle at Styx’s grumbling as he slid into the limousine sent by Knock Your Socks Off. “I don’t know why the producers sent over a car for us. We live right across the road from the SCAC. We could walk like we
always do.”
Everyone else slid into the plush seats with a smile.
The producers decided the Suzhou Culture and Arts Center served them better than Shanghai, probably because the venue saved the show money.
Indigo leaned back in the limo, hands behind his head. “Get used to it. Want this luxury treatment. Let the pampering motivate you.”
Styx grabbed Jin’s hand and in a strong voice said, “There’s only one thing I need.”
Jin rested his head for a moment on Styx’s shoulder.
Tian Di enjoyed seeing how Jin and Styx were together. He ignored the ache in his heart that tried to make him crave the impossible.
“We’re going to be great,” Indigo proclaimed as the limo pulled up to the front of the SCAC.
“How can you be so sure?” Styx shook his head and stared out the window.
Indigo chuckled. “My opinion is simply a fact that hasn’t been proven… yet.”
Having had enough of Indigo’s damned American arrogance, Tian Di swung open the car door. It was still early, so the neon of the bird’s nest building didn’t burn his retinas with its colorful light display. He stepped out to a screaming line of fans.
Wow! The band had been recently filling the Biergarten restaurant, but this number of screaming fans catapulted them into another dimension.
Indigo jumped out next. Eyes gleaming as he drank in the fans’ appreciation, he elbowed Tian Di and gave a quick wave. Then he reached back to help Li out of the limo.
The piercing shrieks died down a bit when Jin and Styx tumbled out. The crowd must have realized Made in China wasn’t the band they were waiting for, but still a respectable part of the crowd applauded and some even yelled louder.
Tian Di shook himself out of his wonderment and followed the rest of the band. He hiked the red-carpeted stairs, and a fan held back only by a rope shoved an autograph book at him. “Tian Di. Please!”
She knew his name. His name. He recognized the woman as someone who came to listen to Made in China about three or four times a week. Wow. “Who should I make this out to?”
