Spoke about him without ever mentioning his name.
Eight nights after Lyle had left, Chuck was off, and having a beer at a sports bar. The Cowboys were playing, so Chuck was rooting for the Jets, enjoying the rising wails of misery in the bar as Dallas got hammered.
Fuck Texas.
He stayed through the third quarter to make sure they were going to get their asses kicked, then left his money on the bar and got to his feet, swaying just a little. He went to the men’s room and almost fell asleep as he fumbled with his zipper over the urinal. Shit. He was hammered and he’d only had five beers.
Someone entered behind him but he didn’t turn round. If he had, he would’ve seen it coming …
Chuck came round face-down in the back seat of a car, tied, gagged and blindfolded. Someone was sitting on his legs and he grunted. Someone was heavy and fidgety against the tender backs of Chuck’s thighs.
One of them was shaking; Chuck figured it was probably him.
‘He’s awake. Pull over.’
Chuck felt fear envelop him, making him panicky and breathless. He didn’t want to pull over. Driving around for ever like this would do just fine. Pull over, and whatever was going to happen next would start to happen …
The car stopped and the door at his feet opened. The man on his legs got off and dragged him out onto the ground by his ankles. His face dug into a field that smelt fragrantly of grass and horse manure, and something hard and metallic poked at the back of his neck.
‘Hey, Chinky.’
He’d always known Irving, Texas, was no place for a Chinaman.
Chuck squeezed his eyes closed behind the blindfold.
Now the blood of the first Zhong (in his branch of the family) to go to university was going to be a permanent part of this godforsaken piece-of-shit place. He felt his groin go hot as his bladder let go.
His fucking parents!
‘We want to give you a lot of money.’
Chuck stopped breathing to hear better. The man couldn’t have said what he just thought he did. Could he?
‘You hear me, Hop Sing? We want to give you a lot of money.’
Chuck was so still he could hear his own heart thumping.
‘Or we could just as easily kill you.’
The man laughed and was joined by another.
The man who was holding what Chuck had to assume to be a gun to his head pushed his face into the earth, and Chuck felt grass and damp soil fill his mouth. ‘You choose,’ the man said.
So Chuck chose.
Two hours later he was back home. Shaking, piss-stained, with the real taste of Texas between his teeth – and with enough money in his pocket to put a down-payment on a neat little Toyota Rav 4.
13
‘OFFICIAL BUSINESS AGAIN, Pal?’
Tom cursed his luck as he turned to see the manager of the Sawmill grinning. Tom ignored him.
‘Lucia’s in tonight, stud.’ Tom ignored him some more but felt a warm glow at the information. He bought a six-dollar beer and found a table near the stage where two hard-bodied redheads were faking a lesbian thing.
They were followed by the same blonde he’d seen before, and a statuesque black girl, who was obviously a favourite with the crowds, judging by the amount of money she scooped up after her show.
Tom resolutely refused to tip any of them more than five bucks. He was keeping his powder dry.
Finally Lucia appeared and Tom felt the comforting glow of knowing he’d been right to make the drive to Santa Ana. She looked soft and pretty, especially alongside her dance partner, a painfully thin Korean, whose sinews ridged the skin of her pelvis.
Among the other customers there was a definite feeling of anti-climax after the tall black girl had gone, and many drifted to the bar as the two new girls started to dance.
The Korean gyrated hard and fast, her face a mask. Lucia was again lost in herself as she performed, her eyes distant.
When the music stopped and she spotted Tom, she smiled and he unexpectedly felt himself blush.
She made the rounds, collecting fives and tens, then stopped in front of him.
‘Hi,’ she said.
‘Hi.’ He was stuck for what to say next. He had a fifty in his hand but he forgot he was supposed to give it to her. Suddenly it seemed like the whole room could overhear them. If he spoke, everyone would hear his voice. He couldn’t do it.
Why was this so hard? Last time he’d just asked her to go for a drink with him and she’d said yes. Why was this different?
The Korean girl had collected her few tips and was walking offstage. Any moment now Lucia would follow her and his chance would be gone.
She saved him: ‘You want to buy me a drink with that?’
