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by Renee Tremblay
Based on Young and Dangerous
"This is not helping me at all, what you are doing
here/in the name of God and love it's the distribution
of fear" Live
Almost eight a.m. Hell. He'd never been this late before,
someone was sure to notice. Tai Tin-Yee turned up the
collar of his jacket against the rain, and began to run.
Maybe He'd get lucky, and the others would still be asleep.
He'd managed to clean himself up to a certain extent in the
bathroom of the MTR station, but there wasn't much he could
do about the blood on his shirt, or the bruise that was
starting to form on his left cheek. If he was lucky, He'd
have a chance to ditch the shirt, at least, before anyone
saw him, but he was going to have to talk fast to explain
the bruise.
Tin-Yee wasn't much on talking. Maybe the others would just
assume He'd been in a fight and leave him alone. He could hope,
anyway.
The bar was shuttered and there were no obvious sounds of
movement. Tin-Yee offered silent thanks to the gods of small
things, and let himself in, quietly. The curtains were still
closed. He took off his shoes and began to tiptoe towards the
bathroom.
"Where the hell have you been?"
Chan Ho-Nam's voice made him jump. Tin-Yee ducked his head instinctively, and said "Out."
"All night?" Ho-Nam was sitting propped up on the bed. He didn't
look happy. There were a number of empty beer tins next to him.
There was no sign of Smartie.
Tin-Yee gave him a quick, sidelong look, said "Yes", and continued towards the bathroom.
"Stand still!" Ho-Nam was definitely in a bad mood.
Tin-Yee sighed, and halted, staring at the floor. He said
"Where are the others?"
"Pou-Pi went to see his sister-in-law yesterday."
"Right. I forgot." Another place the money went. But Tin-Yee
didn't want to think about that. Instead, he said, "And Smartie?"
A mistake. Ho-Nam's voice turned into a growl. "In hell, for all
I care."
They had had another fight. Perfect. Tin-Yee straightened his shoulders, hid a wince of pain.
"Can I make you breakfast?"
"No." There was a silence. Then. "Just tell me where you've been
all night."
"Nowhere special." Wanchai. Almost their old turf. Not that they
had had much to do with the sleazy hotels off Fleming Street…
Tin-Yee kept his face turned away. Maybe Ho-Nam would decide
he'd been with a girl. Maybe Ho-Nam would lay off with the
questions…
"Look at me."
That was a command. Tin-Yee hesitated, turned. Maybe the light
was dim enough to hide the worst of the damage. Ho-Nam studied
him silently for several moments, then shook his head, "You got
into a fight." Tin-Yee said nothing. Ho-Nam's eyes narrowed. "Don't
any of you get it? Things have changed, we're not living that life
any more. We can"t just do what we want or spend what we want."
I know. But Tin-Yee didn't say it.
"We can"t depend on Brother Bee's generosity forever."
"Yes, Nam-go."
Tin-Yee knew all about that, too. Brother Bee had been more than
good to them. But Ho-Nam's medical bills were large, and Kou-Pi's
widow needed help, and then there had been Chicken's expenses for
going to Taiwan… The bar had yet to break even. They had all got
used to having money, somehow. It wasn't easy, adapting back. It
had been even less easy finding a way of bridging the money gap.
One of these nights, someone was going to recognise him. Or beat
him up worse than tonight. Sister Thirteen had been some help, but
even she was not infallible.
One of these nights, he was going to get caught.
Ho-Nam said "Who were you fighting?"
It hadn't been a fight. The two tourists hadn't wanted that. There
had been no question of striking back.
At least they'd paid him. Tin-Yee said "No-one. Just a couple of gwailos. I'm going to clean myself up."
This time, Ho-Nam let him go. Tin-Yee shut the bathroom door and
stared at his reflection. He was a mess, no doubt of that. The
bruise was spreading. No more night work for a week or so.
There was no lock on the door, and the walls were thin: the
lack of privacy was the worst of this place. Sometimes, especially after a night like this, all he wanted was enough space to curl
up in completely alone. Well, he couldn't have it. He washed his
face, then slipped off his jacket. That hurt: He'd started bleeding
again. Easiest to soak the shirt off in the shower, and then dump it.
He was young, He'd heal. And the gwailos had paid him $1000 US. It had been worth it, it had to have been worth it… He turned out his
pockets on the edge of the sink, and checked the cash. All there, yes,
in $100 bills… Under his damp fingers, the green ink ran and smudged.
That shouldn"t happen. He'd been had, in more ways than one. He bit
his lip. If Pou-Pi was visiting Kao-Pi's widow, then they were going
to be short of money again. He'd have to go back, tonight. He straightened, shifting the fabric over his cuts, and swore. Then
he turned the shower full on.
~~~~~~
Ho-Nam didn't understand it. Tin-Yee had always been the reliable one.
Yet lately, his behaviour had been increasingly odd. He disappeared
for hours, returning even more withdrawn. And then there was the
money, varying amounts of it, appearing seemingly from nowhere. It had
taken Ho-Nam a while to connect it with Tin-Yee's disappearances: he
assumed at first that Smartie had gone back to stealing cars. But she
was never away long enough, whereas Tin-Yee… Tin-Yee was involved in
something. Enforcement work, at best. Or petty theft, or dealing. Or
something worse. Any of that could draw Kwan's attention to them. And
that was something they just didn't need. Ho-Nam needed to get to the
root of it, and soon. He needed to get himself back on form, in
control… With the others out, now was as good a time as any to confront
Tin-Yee.
He'd made up his mind to that around 5 am, alone and resentful and
slightly drunk. The problem was going through with it. When Tin-Yee
came out of the shower. He'd do it then… But the shower ran and ran and
Tin-Yee didn't re-emerge; ten minutes, fifteen, twenty…. Needing to be
angry, needing not to be afraid, Ho-Nam hauled himself upright and
hammered on the bathroom door.
"We have to pay for hot water, you know."
No answer. The shower went on running. Ho-Nam banged on the door again.
"Ah-Yee!"
He could not hold on to his anger, it kept sliding away. Something was
wrong. Ho-Nam shook his head, and opened the door. He yanked the shower
curtain aside.
Tin-Yee turned his head away. He stood there, fully dressed and soaked
to the skin. The shower ran icy cold and clear over his head and
shoulders, dripped rusty pink into the shower tray. Ho-Nam swallowed,
hard. Then he turned the water off.
"What happened to you?"
"Nothing." Tin-Yee wouldn"t look at him, again.
"You"re hurt."
"it's not serious."
"Tell me what happened."
Tin-Yee turned his back. That was a mistake. His wet shirt clung to
him, dirty and stained and leaking bloody water. He said "Leave me
alone."
"No." The resistance re-ignited Ho-Nam's anger. "I thought you were the
sensible one."
No answer.
"How could you be so fucking stupid?" Still no answer. "Just what's
wrong with you? If you get yourself cut up, who's going to pay for your
treatment?"
Tin-Yee turned. Despite himself, Ho-Nam took a step back. Taut cold
fury faced him.
"I will," Tin-Yee said.
"How?"
"The same way I helped pay yours."
There was a long silence. Tin-Yee stepped out of the shower, pushing
past Ho-Nam, and reached for a towel. Ho-Nam caught his wrist.
"And just how did you do that?"
Tin-Yee averted his face again. "How do you think?"
Ho-Nam no longer had any idea. He said "Who"ve you been working for?"
"Nobody."
If he'd been stealing… Ho-Nam repeated "We can"t afford any trouble."
"I know that."
"And you come back like this?"
"I made a mistake, last night. It won"t happen again."
Ho-Nam could feel Tin-Yee's pulse under his fingers, racing below skin
and sinew and long bone. Too fast. Tin-Yee's whole posture rejected
him, head turned away, tense, remote, yet he had made no effort to pull
free. Ho-Nam did not understand. He looked round him, at the damp
floor, the blood in the shower tray, the pile of damp US dollars on the
edge of the sink.
"Where did those come from?"
"You Don't want to know."
Tin-Yee's shoulders sagged. He no longer sounded angry, just resigned. "They're fakes, anyway."
"Fakes?" Ho-Nam was trailing.
"Yes. Nam-go, please just leave me alone!"
The sense of wrongness grew. "Tell me what"s going on."
"No."
Another silence. Ho-Nam dropped Tin-Yee's wrist and took hold of his
shoulder. He shook Tin-Yee, none too gently. "Tell me."
"No."
Ho-Nam shoved Tin-Yee against the wall. Tin-Yee winced as his back
impacted. A bottle of Smartie's skin lotion fell to the floor and
broke. With his free hand, Ho-Nam pulled Tin-Yee's face round towards
him.
"Tell me."
Tin-Yee said nothing at all, eyes lowered. Ho-Nam shook him again,
harder. Each time he hit the wall, Tin-Yee bit his lip. He put up no
physical resistance at all, limp, without volition. Behind him,
a pink stain was appearing on the plaster. Abruptly, Ho-Nam let go,
stepped back. After a moment, Tin-Yee turned away, wrapping his arms
about himself.
Ho-Nam said "I'm sorry."
No answer. New blood was seeping through the ruined shirt.
"At least let me help you get rid of that shirt."
As the blood dried, it would stick and meld… Still no answer. Ho-Nam
reached for a towel, and began inexpertly to dry Tin-Yee's hair. Tin-
Yee did nothing to help or to hinder: Ho-Nam had to walk round him, as
if he were a child. Not all the moisture running down his face was from
the shower… Ho-Nam swore, then pulled Tin-Yee into a rough embrace. Now
they were both going to be soaked…Tin-Yee was shivering. Ho-Nam held
him, rested his dry cheek against the damp one.
"Who did this?"
"No-one who matters." Tin-Yee's voice was low.
"But why?"
"Let it go." Tin-Yee straightened.
"No," said Ho-Nam.
~~~~~
This could not happen, he couldn't do this. Ho-Nam's hands had him, he
was bound al the length of Ho-Nam's body, separated by little more
than damp cloth. It felt safe and terrifying, all at the same time. It
was no help at all. He needed to pull back, get himself under control,
stop crying. There was nothing to cry over, after all. He just needed
to be alone.
Tin-Yee did not want to pull away. He wanted Ho-Nam to go on holding
him, and shut out the pain and fear. He had known all along that sooner
or later, he would be caught.
Softly, slowly, he said "It wasn't a fight."
"What?" Ho-Nam didn't understand.
"What happened to me wasn't a fight. I agreed to it."
To the razor cuts and the beating, the bonds on his wrists and ankles…
Now, Ho-Nam would push him away, drive him out. Tin-Yee braced himself
for the revulsion. Carefully, he pulled free, and let himself at last
meet Ho-Nam's eyes. He was a fraction taller. That had always
embarrassed him.
Awkwardly, he said, "They. – the gwailos – paid me for it."
"Paid you?" Ho-Nam was still puzzled.
Tin-Yee wished he would catch up, make the connection. If it had been
Smartie in this situation, Ho-Nam would have caught on fast enough.
Tin-Yee didn't want to have to say the words aloud.
'Nam-go, we're short of money, the bar doesn't pay well. I had to do
something to help out. I had to make money somehow.
Nam-go, I sold myself, because I had nothing else to sell. Because I
can bear to be touched and plundered and abused, if it benefits you,
because I belong to you, I've belonged to you all my life.'
Ho-Nam swallowed, and stepped back. Then he said "you've been hustling?
That's where the money came from?"
"Yes."
"You let some stranger… beat you and…" Ho-Nam seemed unable to say it
"and so on, and you come back here like this and offer to make me
breakfast?"
"I'm sorry, Nam-go."
"Sorry?' Ho-Nam's voice rose. Abruptly, he pushed Tin-Yee once more
against the wall. His hands closed round Tin-Yee's throat. "If this gets back to Kwan I"ll have no face…" His fingers tightened. Tin-Yee
couldn't breathe. "I should kill you…" Ho-Nam's mouth came down on his,
biting, brutal.
It was meant to punish, it cut off any last hope of breath, yet despite
all that, Tin-Yee felt only the warmth of it. His hands caught weakly
at Ho-Nam's forearms, and held on; his own mouth opened. Ho-Nam made
some inarticulate sound, and his hands parted. Tin-Yee let his own
hands lock in Ho-Nam's long hair, and pull him closer, turning pain
into pleasure.
Ho-Nam said faintly, "Don't", but his body pressed close, and his hands
had begun to travel.
There was no space; the room was cramped and narrow, the floor was
covered with water, and skin cream, and fragments of sharp glass. When
Ho-Nam pulled the stained shirt from Tin-Yee's shoulders, blood began
to mingle with the rest. They slid down the wall, locked in a kiss that
was still half punishment. Ho-Nam was bare-chested, wearing only
canvas trousers. When Tin-Yee's mouth travelled down his throat, began
to work it's way across his chest, along the lines of the tattoos, he said again, weakly, "Don't… don't." But his hands on Tin-Yee would not
let go, locked both of them in place. Tin-Yee did not think he could
speak, or stop. He was on his knees amidst the glass; shards of it
pressed through his jeans, he was shaking with fear and need. He was so
hard it ached. Even the pain, from the glass, from the torn razor cuts
on his back, worked round into the hunger. Let this happen, then, and
He'd pay for it later… Ho-Nam pulled the shirt off completely, and Tin-
Yee gasped with the shock of it. Pain should not feel so good, pain was
humiliation and shame and submission… He lifted his head, looked up.
Yes, this was punishment, Ho-Nam's eyes were dark, intent, cold. Ho Nam
bit him, ran ungentle fingers down his back. The blood travelled with
them, smearing Ho-Nam's own chest and forearms. When Tin-Yee put his
mouth there, he could taste himself, mingled with Ho-Nam's sweat. He
caught a hand, and sucked the blood from the fingers, breathless, and
heard Ho-Nam gasp.
Ho Nam tucked his feet under him, into a crouch. Then, in one firm
movement, he stood, pulling Tin-Yee with him. Not good. Tin-Yee tasted
fear under all the excitement and confusion. He was pulled and prodded
back into the main room, Ho-Nam's hands hard and unforgiving on him.
Somehow, that made it better. Ho-Nam shoved him forward, across the
bed, and Tin-Yee feel without resistance. Ho-Nam knelt over him, knees
locked about his rib-cage, constricting breath. The blood would be
soaking into the sheets, into both their clothes, explaining it away
would be worst than explaining a bruise or a late night. He doubted,
somehow, that Ho-Nam would help him in any way.
Into his ear, Ho-Nam said "Never again. Do you hear me?' His voice
shook. "Never."
"No…" Tin-Yee spoke into the mattress.
Ho-Nam shifted his weight downwards and his hands began to explore.
There was soaked denim in the way: Tin-Yee heard him swear, then the
weight lifted.
Footsteps… Tin-Yee turned his head. Ho-Nam had gone into the kitchen.
Yes, this was bad… Tin-Yee's breath came in sobs; he needed this… Ho-
Nam came back , carrying the largest of the kitchen knives. Yes and yes
and yes… Tin-Yee's hips pressed into the bed, seeking relief. Ho-Nam
sat down on the edge, rested the tip of the blade on Tin-Yee's face,
just below the eye. The point burned, it felt right. Slowly, Ho-Nam
drew the blade downwards, over throat and shoulder, through the seeping
razor cuts, adding a thin new track to their number. Tin-Yee was
groaning. He had to keep still. Almost, he could not.
Ho-Nam said "You Don't behave like this, you don't lose my face like
this…"
"No.."
The knife sliced through fabric, slowly, without care. In places, it
cut Tin-Yee, too. Ho-Nam said nothing, intent. With each new cut, Tin-
Yee got harder; he could not keep still, yet the more he moved, the
more chance there was of real injury. That only made it better. When at
last Ho-Nam had finished with the denim, he shifted his weight again,
elbow digging into Tin-Yee's spine. Tin-Yee looked round at him, found
the knife in front of his eyes.
"Keep still."
Ho-Nam stepped back and unbuttoned his own trousers, one-handed. The
knife hovered there, between them. Ho-Nam knelt on the bed, and drew
the knife down to rest at Tin-Yee's throat. His other hand recommenced
exploration, without any gentleness at all. But that, after all, was
what should be, there were rules, Tin-Yee was not allowed to help…
Sharp pain, frightening, delicious… He arched his back, and felt the
knife dig in. Ho-Nam pulled the finger back, and spat on his hand. And
then… Tin-Yee could not keep still, he was aching for this. He met the
invasion willingly, pressing up and back, matching the rhythm.
"Don't," Ho-Nam said, but the knife had dropped. His hands were under
Tin-Yee's hips, now, helping. With each ragged, desperate thrust, he
pushed Tin-Yee further, closer… beyond control, Tin-Yee came and came
into the sheet below them. Ho-Nam's mouth was on his throat. Tin-Yee
twisted beneath him, and found that mouth with is own.
Gasping, Ho-Nam said "No…" into the non-space between them, and
shuddered, and thrust harder, and climaxed in a long hot rush.
Tin-Yee waited until Ho-Nam's breathing was calm. Then he rolled
himself free, and picked up the knife. He raised himself on his other
elbow, and looked down at Ho-Nam. Ho-Nam's eyes turned wary.
"It's all right," Tin-Yee said. "It was my fault."
He had forgotten how to smile.
He closed his left hand tight around the blade of the knife. Then he
rolled upright, and went into the bathroom to start cleaning up.
_end_
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