The Temple of Heaven

by Z. Allora

  Tian Di waved to the bartender. “See you tonight.”

  When Tian Di headed for the boardwalk instead of the street, Indigo asked, “We’re walking?”

  “Saving on taxi money, and it’s a nice day. Not too humid.” The sun played peek-a-boo behind the clouds, and the exercise might help move the alcohol out of Indigo’s system.

  They trudged along the boardwalk around Jinji Lake. Water lapped under the planks, blooming white and pink lotus on one side and big fat goldfish surfacing every few meters to beg for food on the other.

  Indigo stopped and stared at the horizon. “Suzhou has grown so much since I’ve been here. Tall skyscrapers and residential apartments pop up weekly. It’s amazing.”

  Tian Di shrugged. “China has a long-term plan, and the country wants to meet it.”

  Indigo’s movements seemed in control.

  Directing Indigo off the boardwalk, Tian Di guided him to a footpath that cut to the sidewalk. Cars, trucks, scooters, and bicycles zipped by on the busy road.

  Indigo sighed again, slumping over.

  Tian Di couldn’t hold his tongue and had to ask, “Why do you want so many other men, Indigo? Li is a great guy. Why isn’t he enough for you?”

  “That’s not it at all. I know how this works.” Indigo touched his chest. “Born and raised in LA, with a gay dad, and uncles that changed every season.”

  “Uncles?”

  “My dad would never stay with one guy for very long. He’d get bored, and the uncles disappeared.” Indigo shook his head. “I don’t want Li to replace me.”

  “You’re not exchangeable.” Tian Di would never have guessed Indigo could ever think like that.

  He laughed, which ended in a sniff. “That’s what my father said when I asked if he’d get rid of me someday too. ‘You’re not exchangeable. You’re my son. I only get one of you.’”

  There was too much pain in Indigo’s tone. Tian Di couldn’t help but try to reassure him. “Not everyone’s like that in relationships.”

  Indigo kicked a stone off the sidewalk. “I can’t take the chance. I’m determined to maintain the excitement.”

  How could he convince Indigo of such a basic thing? “You do know this isn’t America.”

  “Hell, yeah. I notice every damned day,” Indigo snarled.

  “Well, you know they can’t be loud and proud here.” Tian Di felt the need to point out the obvious.

  “They? Tian Di, do you even consider yourself Chinese?”

  Out of paranoia—thank you, Mother—Tian Di was forced to make sure no one was around to overhear the answer. “Look, I was born in Hong Kong a few years before it was returned to China. I was raised by people who didn’t consider Hong Kong to be a part of China. But I do love China.”

  “Hard to push the genie back into the bottle?”

  What? Tian Di lowered his voice. “There’s an us-and-them mentality. The stereotype of mainlanders is they’re uncivilized, uncultured, and uneducated. Many mainlanders think people from Hong Kong are spoiled by years of democracy and aren’t patriotic.”

  “Never thought of it like that. Do you have problems here?” Indigo asked.

  “Not really, but my family hates that I live here. Anyway, that’s where the them comment came from. But what I was trying to explain is gay people in China are still mostly in a closet because being gay was illegal in China until 1997. It was only in 2001 that the official mental illness list removed homosexuality.”

  “Yeah, it’s one of the reasons my dad left. The police would harass anyone who didn’t have the money to pay them off, and at that time he couldn’t.” Indigo shook his head. “I don’t know the whole story, but it was bad for him here.”

  “Hong Kong isn’t much better. In some ways, worse.” Tian Di tried not to careen down tragedy lane. He didn’t want to relive the trauma of being beaten for being too girly or having a teacher try to take advantage of him. He avoided dwelling on his two unhealthy relationships of the past and a string of meaningless one-off encounters. What was the point of focusing on being a fish trapped in a dry wheel track?

  “Is that why you left?”

  It was Tian Di’s turn to shrug. “One of the men I’d gotten involved with had a lot of influence with the clubs looking for singers. When things ended, he had me blacklisted.”

  “Fuck, you were blacklisted?”

  “It wasn’t difficult.” Tian Di gestured to himself. “One look at me and the club owners knew the rumors he spread about me had to be true. Bands stopped auditioning me, so I decided to try the mainland.”

  “Why didn’t you just go to America?”

  “The plan was to get noticed and get management to help me get there. Immigration is easier when you have the help of a label or agent working on your behalf.” He had no clue why he shared this with Indigo.

  “Yeah, that’s what Li said too.”

  “There’s a lot of walls you need to scale to escape.” And they usually felt insurmountable.

  “I know.” Indigo sighed. “I guess I’ve had a lot of privilege. I lived in a bubble, and I’ve never felt this kind of repression. It feels intense to me, like China’s this big-assed closet without a door and—”

  “Exactly. Keep that in mind the next time you push Li for public affection. This is where Li grew up, so don’t judge him by Western standards. You saw the struggle Jin and Styx had, and even now they’ve got to be careful. You can’t imagine what it’s like to think there’s something really wrong with you or that you’re the only guy in the world who likes other guys.”

  “My dad couldn’t stand living here in hiding.” Indigo smacked the crosswalk button.

  “Well, some of us don’t have the luxury of choice.”

  Indigo groaned. “Yeah, I know.”

  They trudged the rest of the way to the nail place in silence. When they arrived, Tian Di held the door for Indigo.

  Indigo read the sign aloud, “Lotus Nail Salon,” as he brushed past Tian Di and entered.

  The muted gray of the walls, floor, and ceiling encompassed Tian Di in tranquility. Natural light poured in, filtered only by the sheer white curtains making the line of eight black pedicure chairs and eight black lacquer nail stations gleam. Photos and paintings of lotus blossoms provided the only color, except for the tiers of nail polish bottles, arranged in order by color, making a vivid rainbow.

  Silence. The soft melody of conversation stopped. The six women who sat in massage chairs for pedicures stopped talking. The two getting their finger nails done turned and stared. Everything came to a halt. The nail techs stared at them like they were an intruding horde.

  No matter how many times Tian Di came to this salon, they hadn’t gotten used to a man wanting his nails done. Sometimes it was more intense than being onstage because he had no microphone to hide behind.

  Several of the Western women whispered to their nail techs and then to one another. Finally a tanned blonde with a heavy Australian accent asked, “Are you two in that band?”

  “Made in China?” Indigo supplied in English.

  A cute tiny woman with a Korean accent said in English, “Oh, yeah. That’s where I recognize you from. The German restaurant on the lake, what’s it called… the Biergarten.”

  The salon owner guided Indigo and Tian Di to the nail tables, announcing, “And their band was just on that show, Knock Your Socks Off.”

  This announcement was met with clapping, and squealing women pulled Indigo out of his funk, forcing him into a kind of normalcy. He spoke in English. “We’re very excited for all the breaks Made in China has been given and could have in the very near future.”

  The woman with the Australian accent pressed him. “I keep hearing rumors. Who exactly is the band in talks with?”

  A nail tech said in uncertain English, “I hear the Dark Angels come here to make tour….”

  Whether caused by the alcohol still in his system or strategy, Indigo gasped. “You heard about that?”

  That was al
l the admission the women needed.

  Indigo turned on his megawatt smile. “I hope you’ll join us tonight at the German restaurant.”

  All the women nodded.

  One woman told Indigo, “I’m going to bring my husband and two women he works with from Sweden.”

  “I look forward to seeing you in the audience.” Indigo gave her a bright smile.

  The savvy detective among the group said, “Google says the Dark Angels tour will begin in Shanghai. Is that true?”

  Everyone looked to Indigo.

  He nodded enthusiastically. “I can’t confirm or deny this.”

  The Sherlock Holmes of the group started typing into her phone, and a few clicks later, she announced, “The tickets just went live this morning. I’m getting mine.”

  Several women pulled out their phones and busied themselves.

  Indigo flashed him a mischievous smile. Ah, a confirmation he played to wrangle in more fans.

  Tian Di’s nail tech asked, “What instrument do you play?”

  He tried to call the expected blush to his cheeks and shyness to his voice. “I’m the lead singer.”

  The nail tech squealed, “That’s great.” She sat a little higher in her chair and glanced at the other techs like she ruled over them. “He’s the singer.”

  Indigo leaned in and whispered, “Face?”

  “Correct.”

  Indigo nodded.

  Maybe Indigo was finally getting the concept. He’d sat through several lectures on the concept of face. The band tried to give Indigo an understanding that face wasn’t about only saving one’s dignity. One could give face to a person by allowing them the honor of doing a favor or service for someone deemed important.

  Indigo pointed to his nail tech’s name badge. “Your name is Mary?”

  “My English name is Mary,” she replied as she batted her eyelashes at him.

  “English name?” Indigo asked in English.

  The nail tech looked at Tian Di and said in Mandarin, “Explain to your friend.”

  “Many people who work in the service industry, such as nails, tanning, hair, restaurants, and hotels, all take on an English name so their customers can say it.”

  “Hmmm.” Indigo smiled at his nail tech. “But what’s your real name?”

  “Ai,” she said low, glancing at the owner, who was more focused on playing Minesweeper on her computer than running the business.

  “Pretty. That means lovable?”

  “Correct.” Mary refocused on Indigo’s nails.

  As a woman whose English name was Jennifer buffed Tian Di’s manicured nails, Indigo grinned. “I guess this is why you’re the only one with decent nails in the band.”

  He nodded. “Usually I visit Lotus once a month.”

  His technician asked, “Do you want color or a little flower?”

  Indigo turned his head.

  Tian Di spoke slowly. “Yes, a small lotus on the thumb. Your flowers are perfect, Jennifer.”

  Indigo asked, “Why are you speaking English?”

  “Jennifer likes to practice her English.”

  Mary massaged Indigo’s hand with citrus lotion and asked him, “Do you want any shine or design?”

  “Nah, just black polish.” After gasps echoed around the room, Indigo grinned at the other patrons and stated, “I’m a true rocker.”

  The Australian lady who was paying for her nails exclaimed, “Whoop! Damn right you are. I’ll be there tonight.”

  The other women echoed the sentiment of attending tonight’s show. Tian Di said quietly, “We would be very pleased to have you.”

  His sister would have been proud of him, as three of the ladies fanned themselves, while his mom would have started to plan a wedding.

  Once he and Indigo left the nail salon, Indigo hailed a cab to take them back to the apartment.

  “Hey, thanks for this afternoon. I know you think I’m an ass most of the time, but I appreciate you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Tian Di slipped into the cab, careful not to rip the seat’s pleather further.

  “If there’s anything you can do to help me patch things with Li, I’d be grateful,” Indigo said in English, probably to avoid being understood by the driver.

  When no sleazy double entendre followed, Tian Di believed the sincerity. He answered back in English, “You’ve got to stop dragging other people into your physical relationship.”

  “But Li—”

  “Li doesn’t need or want that. If you don’t, then just stop.”

  The taxi pulled into their apartment complex, and the gate opened. Indigo paid the driver, and they took the elevator to their private entryway.

  Indigo kicked off his shoes and rushed barefoot through the apartment door.

  Tian Di slipped into his plain red slippers with dragon heads that he parked near the bubbling fountain in the corner.

  “Oh… I guess you do like my nails.” Indigo chuckled.

  Tian Di entered the apartment in time to see Li manhandle Indigo into their room, and called out, “Hey, remember we’ve got a show tonight.”

  Indigo poked his head out. “We know. We’ll—”

  Midsentence Indigo vanished. The door slammed shut, and the bolt engaged a moment later. Scraping of what sounded like beds being pushed together followed a long moan.

  Crash! Indigo’s broken “Yes!” floated through the door.

  Smiling, Tian Di said, “Well, I guess they’re making up.”

  Styx grabbed the DVD remote. The apartment filled with the sound of loud rock and roll.

  Jin grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. He glanced at his cell phone. “I think there’s time for a bath before the show.” Jin strutted toward his room with a noticeable twitch to his hips.

  Tian Di had never seen Styx so red.

  “I’m… I… um….” Styx’s didn’t even spare Tian Di a look. Instead he focused on Jin.

  “We’ve got two hours before we need to—” Styx vanished before Tian Di even finished his thought.

  Panting loud enough to hear during the breaks of the pounding drums coming through the stereo propelled Tian Di into his own room. Maybe he had time to read a few mangas. He pulled out his favorite Sakura Rose and some hand cream, unbuckled his belt, and slid down his zipper. Time to relax before the show.

  TWO AND a half hours later, Made in China sound-checked their instruments at the German restaurant.

  Sebe rushed in and waved them over. The restaurant owner’s son took his role of Made in China’s management a bit too seriously at times. He was only a teenager but became a force of nature that mowed down everything in his path if it didn’t help the band get to where he believed they were headed.

  “What the hell? Sebe, we got to finish setting up,” Indigo growled in English.

  The teen pointed to the closed stage curtains. “The Dark Angels are here. Here. Right now. They’ll be in the back.”

  “Say what now?” Indigo still hadn’t stopped grinning nor did he bother to cover the fresh suck mark on his neck from his makeup session with Li. He rushed over to the edge of the curtain and pulled it back enough to see the audience.

  “They aren’t supposed to be here yet,” Styx pointed out the obvious.

  Indigo ducked his head back and pushed the curtain to the wall. He nodded as he rejoined the group. “The kid’s right. The Dark Angels are sitting in the back corner on the right side.”

  Tian Di’s stomach tightened like he had taken a punch. “Guess they got here earlier than expected.”

  “Yeah, like days early.” Jin pressed his lips together. Good idea. Tian Di mimicked the motion to keep his guts inside.

  Styx put a hand on Jin’s shoulder, either to comfort him or to keep himself upright, because Styx didn’t look all that steady on his feet.

  Li adjusted the strap on his bass. “If we open for them, they’ll hear us play a lot. It’s not a big deal.”

  Indigo stepped in and waved everyone into a formation he called a hu
ddle. “We got this. They wouldn’t have asked us to be a part of the tour if we weren’t incredible. Styx, your drumming is tight. Li and Jin, your strings will take us anywhere we need to go. And Tian Di, your range is wider than Angel Luv’s, so let’s just do this.”

  Sebe had handed Tian Di a glass of warm water. He sipped the liquid, wishing he had put himself on vocal rest today.

  Indigo shoulder-bumped him and smirked. “Hey, glad I got my nails done. Li really liked them.”

  Chapter 5

  “THIS IS your captain. We’ve started our descent. We’ll be landing in the Shanghai Pudong International Airport, terminal one, in twenty minutes. I’m sorry for the late arrival. Between that mechanical delay, then the runway delay, add the head winds… well, an agent will be at the gate to give passengers connecting information. It’s rainy and 19 degrees Celsius or about 66 degrees Fahrenheit. Again, we know you have a choice in airline carriers, and we look forward to serving you again. Welcome to China.”

  Finally. Thank God. Jordon would get away from the man on his left taking all the available space, and Mr. Both-Armrests-are-Mine on the right. His seatmates from hell had gotten drunk, talked nonstop to each other, spilled alcohol on one of Jordon’s sketches, and unplugged his phone so the battery decharged. He’d been grateful when they each took a sleeping pill, until they collapsed on his shoulders. One snoozing ton of deadweight on either side made his body ache. He wiped off his wet left shoulder. Ew!

  After an eternity, Jordon stumbled off the plane and trudged to the top of the steep Jetway. Every exhausting step reminded him how the estimated fourteen hours and fifty-five minutes had turned into a twenty-four-and-a-half-hour marathon nightmare.

  Now he trailed along with the crowd.

  Damn, how big is this terminal? How many miles was it to get to baggage claim?

  People pushed and shoved to get around him, as if they had to go to the bathroom. He’d have to tell Gwen that totally didn’t work when he was sleep-deprived.

  The herd of humanity shuffled through something that looked like a metal detector, labeled Full Body Infrared Scanner. Ah, the temperature taker thingy Zack mentioned.