Green IslandYellow Taxi
June 25th 2011 03:33
That was not Shnade’s finest moment, giving a blow job to the boss’s son for money. Shnade would try to keep this episode out of his biography. His mouth was full of Taka’s gloop. He went to the kitchen to spit it out. He drank some water as he boiled inside with shame and fury.
“I say. Very fine, my friend. I never thought that you were gay. It’s getting so hard to tell nowadays. What with men being so metrosexual in Japan; and gay being such a no no in these provincial parts. I...”
“Shut the fuck up. I’m not fucking gay. I just…”
Shnade was getting too angry to make coherent sentences. He looked into Taka’s smug gay face with venom. Shnade felt sullied and cheap. He hated himself for what he had done; but of course this self-hate manifested itself as revulsion for Taka who was slowly buttoning up his shirt and tying his belt.
“Your money is on the table. I can see you are obviously having a crisis moment in your how to say sexual identity. Best to take my leave I believe.”
“I want all the money, motherfucker.” Shnade’s voice was now preternaturally calm. Something inside of him had clicked or snapped. He was no longer his mumbling, half witted self.
Taka didn’t respond. He could see that his blithe post-coital spirits were not in good taste. He was going to offer to blow Shnade as a courtesy, but thought better of it. As he reached for his jacket and the other packet of money Shnade’s meaty mitt came arcing through the air and landed firmly on his right cheek. It was a weighty slug that had Taka stumbling across the room and crashing into the sliding paper doors.
Taka was half way back to his feet when Shnade followed up with a knee into the face. It caught firmly with Taka’s nose. Blood burst from his face like a ripe tomato being squashed. Shnade had never been so good at violence. It seemed that this new place he had arrived at had given him a taste and an aptitude for inflicting pain. It would take him a while longer to realize that it was himself that he wanted to hurt; but for now it just felt good to be laying into Taka who was now huddled on the floor holding his hands to his face. Taka looked like a wounded animal that was making no effort to defend itself. Perhaps the motherfucker was getting turned on by this rough and tumble, Shnade thought. This spurred him on. Shnade walked around Taka and delivered a hard punch to the side of his head.
“For God’s sake stop.”
Shnade ignored the plea and put his shoes on and then stepped back into the room and placed a vicious kick into Taka’s coccyx that lifted the Japanese man back onto his feet in a thrice. Shnade followed up with an upper cut that hurt his hand and made a vile crunching noise in Taka’s jaw.
When Taka hit the floor, Shnade lost all control. He rained down kicks into the head and torso of the defenseless man. The frenzy lasted only a minute but when it was over Taka wasn’t moving. Shnade remembered that other faggy Japanese dude who had also passed out in front of him. There was no compassion in his thoughts; fuck him.
Shnade pulled Taka’s jacket away from his released grasp and quickly found the packet of money. He then took the other packet of money from the table. In a few minutes he had packed. Duffel bag in one hand and guitar in the other he stepped over the unconscious Taka and into the tiny corridor. He didn’t bother locking the door or turning off the light. Shnade walked quickly to the train station. As he pounded the yellow concrete he noticed a statue of a dog having a shit. That’s odd he never noticed that before. The dog looked kind of sad like he had inadvertently stepped on his own feces. Damn I’m stoned Shnade thought.
At the station he only had to wait 40 minutes for the first train heading east to leave the platform. He ate a burger from a combini and closed his eyes as the half empty Sunday train trundled past rice fields, drinks machines and little old ladies clutching vegetables.
_________________________
Candy’s night had also been one to remember.
It started with her riding the train with Hiro. She was wearing her most glamorous clothes and clutching a cheap backpack and a plastic bag. She began to have second thoughts. Here she was in Japan with a man she was growing fonder of by the day, a man whom she trusted, and what was she doing? Yes she was standing in a train looking like a homeless tart hoping to become some ambiguous object called a ‘hostess’ that she strongly suspected was in fact a euphemism for some tart in a bar. What made Candy grit her teeth and go through with the scheme was the uncomfortable thought that it could all be over. It had felt like a life time of odd choices and new locations since she had first arrived in Argentina. The moving scenes and the existential shifts were a drug in themselves. The many drugs she had taken on the trip almost seemed like a metaphor for a deeper type of narcotic release that travelling provided. And she wanted to continue the fix for as long as possible. If wearing make-up, pushing out her tits and laughing at men in bars was what was required, then bring it on. After all she could always quit. Hiro might not be there for her, but the credit card would.
The train stopped and they marched with a thousand other people up into the nightlight of Roppongi. Hiro’s phone rang and soon he was leading Candy to a yellow taxi. Not exactly glamorous. Mitsuharu and another man were standing outside the taxi waiting impatiently for the two young people to barge through the crowds.
Immediately everything went as Candy had learnt to appreciate. It all became ‘very Japanese’. It always seemed that things never seem to get done in Japan and that people just made polite comments about the weather, and then, suddenly, everything fell into place. Hiro and Mitsuharu spoke and Hiro was introduced to Mitsuharu’s brother called Masa who would take it from there. Mitsuharu vanished into the blur of walking traffic and Hiro urged Candy to get in.
“Hey, my name Masa. Nice to meet you lady. Where you from? Canada! I spent 2 years States side and never made it to Canada.”
Masa gave off a jokey exuberance that was meant to put people at ease. He was never sure if it did, but it didn’t matter since he liked playing the fool. He could afford to play around with his connections.
“How long you been in Japan, lady. Oh short time. So you no speak Japanese. This no problem. Many girls the same as you. You will learn. Main thing is pretty.”
Candy could feel Masa scrutinize her through the rear view mirror. She could also feel Hiro’s belated sense of masculinity coming out. He was shifting in his seat next to Candy obviously uncomfortable, wanting to tell Candy to call the whole thing off.
“Ah yes. I see you pretty. Plenty of meat. When men go out they eat steak not salad. Very fine. No problem. Now little missy where we drop your boyfriend?”
“His name is Hiro. He comes with us.”
Masa ignored Candy and twisted around in the passenger seat next to the implacable driver and started speaking Japanese to Hiro.
Hiro’s face went red as he listened to the confident tones of Masa. Candy had no idea what Masa had said but within a minute the taxi had pulled over.
“Candy-san. You have my number. If anything bad, call me. I…”
Candy felt like crying.
It was too late for declarations and reversals. Hiro got out of the taxi. Candy jumped out after him. They kissed ignoring the looks of people passing by.
“Don’t do this, Candy.”
“I have to.”
She got back in the taxi and Hiro was left on the pavement staring at the yellow vehicle becoming lost in the traffic.
The club was completely anonymous from the outside. Just a metal door, a small sign and a small window with frosted glass and a grill over it. The door opened silently onto a dark bar with ground lighting and spot lights. There was a narrow bar near the door. The rest of the space was devoted to a series of booths with sofas each on its own slightly raised platform. The carpet was black and the sofas were black. The table tops glass. Hanging on the walls were TV sets.
Masa lead Candy through the room. He nodded at a couple of bouncer types in suits and ignored the middle aged woman with the cakey make up behind the bar. Clearly the bar was not open yet to the general public.
At the booth at the end of the bar sat a man with his back to them.
“OK. Candy, yes? Good. Leave bags here. OK now listen. Boss is busy man. He no have sense of humour like me. You act nice. Smile. I tell you what to do. Understand?”
They walked over to the end booth and Masa bowed and kept his eyes to the ground as he spoke. Candy stood there dumbly next to him and stared at the little man in the suit. He was maybe 60 years old and had an odd shock of black hair that was brushed across his head. It looked like a bad wig. The boss looked like yoda’s cousin – the black sheep of the family that had chosen the dark side for the better pay package. When Masa finished his humble monologue the boss gave the smallest wave of his suit sleeve and they sat down. Candy sat stiffly with a straight back conscious of the swell of her breasts exposed by the low cut dress.
The boss spoke.
“He wants you to stand up so he can look at you.”
Candy stepped out of the booth and the boss twisted his invisible body to peer at Candy from tits to arse.
“He no like your sandals, Candy. You get fuck me shoes. He also say your hair look dirty. He say you trouble.”
Candy had no idea how to respond. Was she supposed to go now? Masa noticed her indecision.
“No worry, lady. All ladies get same treatment. Just smile and do what I say.”
Candy nodded. The two Japanese men turned to ignore Candy standing on display and started up on the Japanese. Five minutes later the boss slipped past Candy and disappeared into a corridor at the back of the room. The two goons by the door followed him.
Masa shouted at the harridan behind the bar who scurried off into the kitchen.
“You did well Candy. Welcome to the club. You be good girl and you make good money. But don’t fuck with boss. He important man. His threats are never idle. Now we have drink and I tell you about your job. And then I get you on train to Gugu City.”
_________________________
Shnade slept deeply for a couple of hours before he woke up dehydrated with a dullness of perception that signals a day of hangover pain. He wasn’t sure if they sold drinks on the train. He sat sighing; he really didn’t want to move. He wanted somebody to give him a cold Pocari Sweat and then vanish; unless of course they were hot.
Shnade was conflicted about a number of issues regarding his previous night of oral sex and violence with Taka, but the worst of the issues by far was the thought that he might be some type of unconscious fag. He vaguely remembered that homos sometimes tried to lie to themselves about their homo-ness, but surely this was different. It was purely for the money. That thought just increased Shnade’s hangover – fuck I’m no straight rent boy for batty men either. That finely honed instrument called Shnade self-justification just wasn’t working. It was blunt as hell. He needed two things: a blunt to deaden the brain pain and a bitch to let John Thomas put this internal debate truly to a conclusion.
With that the train pulled in at a station. Not Shnade’s. He vaguely remembered he’d have to change on to the Tokidoki line at Tokyo Station. He got out of his seat and lumbered out onto the platform and fumbled with change at a drinks vending machine. He felt paranoid that the train would pull out and kept looking for a guard to signal. In the end he made it back onto the train no worries. The guard had indeed spotted him. That was good and bad. Shnade only had a 150 yen ticket.
An hour later with the sports drink and a crafty pipe in the toilet doing their magic Shnade felt much more simply and brightly about himself and the future. He would soon be back with his homies, back on the dealing under-weight gear and fronting a new band that would have a kick ass name. He wasn’t too keen on being tied to Otoko, but her parents’ place might do for a base until he could scab off someone else.
All these thoughts swum around the invigorated Shnade mental pond as he gazed out the train window. His pleasant reverie was broken by a train sign. Tokyo. Here was his change. Cool. Final train and he would be back.
_________________________
A disheveled hippy and a poised Japanese woman boarded the early morning train to Gugu City with Candy. Shnade all a-puff after several wrong turnings in Tokyo Station had also boarded the train. Shnade felt terrible. The hippy and his girlfriend were deep into some trip that was many hours in. It was that killing part of the day when those who had not slept looked like zombies amongst the living. Only the living were more dead than the zombies: they were commuters, old age day trippers and school kids exuding the group righteousness of having got up early on their day off; true citizens looking obliquely upon those who flouted their world of wholesome hours and rice balls.
Candy felt awful. She had wanted to leave the club after her baffling interview and get changed, but such was not her fate. Instead she had spent several hours drinking and singing karaoke. Masa had instantly started doing two things when the boss had disappeared and she had ‘got’ the job. First he started trying it on and secondly he started speaking more and more Japanese at her. She would wiggle out from under a meaty hand on her thigh and he would loudly blurt out a load of Japanese male posturing noises which seemed to Candy more than self-explanatory and didn’t need translating.
This went on and on and Masa gleefully told her that she had missed the last train and so would have to start work at the club that night and then he would get her on a train. He pulled out a wrap and soon had tapped out two lines with a credit card. Candy knew it was a bad idea but saw no other way to survive the next few hours.
And indeed it had worked. She did fine. Her first customer had ordered beer and whiskey and had seemed to enjoy practicing his English. If it wasn’t for the fact that she caught him gawping at her tits she might have mistaken him for a nice guy. Only one surly man in a designer tracksuit and pimp shoes gruffly shooed her away when he discovered that Candy could not parley the lingo. Masa was quickly over to the scene to smooth the way. He led her back to the toilets where he gave her another line and squeezed her left breast.
When it was over and the last customers had handed over hundreds of dollars and left to a flurry of bows from the other girls, Masa told Candy to get her bags. That was her first night at work in Japan. Candy couldn’t exactly say that she had enjoyed it, but at the same time she realized that hostessing was in fact a cinch; something that she had been doing for a long time without getting paid.
On the train Cindy found a seat next to an odd couple who spoke English to each other. The man had malformed dreads that left his scalp at improbable angles. The fuzz of ropey hair reminded Candy of homeless people. The woman was slowly munching a piece of bread with buzzing pupils. They were having a bizarre conversation about where to put bags that Candy for the life of her couldn’t see. Candy was wired herself from expensive Japanese whisky and coke. She didn’t really want any more demimonde for one night (or day).
“Hey, excuse me. Kind of a stupid question to ask but do you have a pipe on you, or perhaps an aluminum can?”
The hippy seemed to be addressing Candy. She wasn’t sure as his eyes flicked around the carriage.
“Err, me? No sorry.”
“Fuck. I’ll be back in a moment, chicken.” The hippy said addressing the Japanese woman next to him. With that he lurched down the train with all the commuters in their pointy shoes and office lady uniforms staring at him. He muttered something to himself as he progressed like a man on a rocking boat.
“Hello, I’m sorry if my husband bothered you,” the Japanese woman began, “he is a man on a mission it seems. Where are you going?”
“Gugu.”
With that the two tired women started up a conversation.
Meanwhile: “Hey man, how’s it going? You a musician? Cool. I’ve just been to see Pendulum tonight. You like drum and bass?”
Shnade was confused why somebody would make music without electric guitar, but still the dude leaning over him with the bad breath and lumpy locks seemed friendly enough.
“Hey, to cut straight to the chase, amigo. Do you have a pipe on you or perhaps a can? You see I got some ‘ash to smoke. Jah and all that, dude.”
It was music to Shnade’s ears. Somebody else was supplying the weed for a change. That was the problem with A city – everybody was always smoking his stash.
“Sure.”
“Well fuck me. My name is Arthur. Let me help you with your stuff. We need to move a few carriages down to where my wife is.”
A few minutes later Shnade and Candy were sitting next to each other and staring in a bewildered fashion at Arthur the tramp as he introduced his wife, Ai. She smiled benignly and from a mental distance as Arthur zigzagged his conversational way through introductions and instructions for the drug taking for the next few hours.
The plan started with Arthur nipping to the toilet with Shnade’s pipe. He came back 5 minutes later his brown, reddish hair hiding the smirk of the mad. He handed over a pinch of hash to Candy and the monkey pipe.
“Here’s the deal, Candy. You have just enough for one hit. Go to the bog and take the hit and then hold your breath. Don’t blow out until you get to the part joining carriages together. They don’t have smoke alarms in the funny rubbery joins. Once you’ve exhaled come on back and then our other new friend can have a go. What’s your name again?”
“Shnade.”
Our guitar hero watched the arse of our heroine as she walked off. Candy could feel Shnade’s eyes greedily take in the sights of her hostess body. Normally she would have gone out of her way to not sit next to such middle American trash but she had been disarmed by the friendliness of Ai and the determined benevolence of Arthur. Her life was out of her control; here again was the existential shuffling of the deck, her drug of choice.
Catch Up on Earlier Installments of the Candy and Shnade Tale:
Candy and Shnade Make it Happen (Part 11)
Tears and a Clown (Part 10)
Candy Finds a Capsule Hotel and Shnade Gets His First Apartment (Part 9)
Candy and Shnade Reach the Line (Part 8)
Candy Gets Religion and Shnade Gets a New Guitar (Part 7)
Shnade Gets Drunk with a Serial Killer and Candy Arrives in Bangkok (Part 6)
Candy and Shnade Move On (Part 5)
Candy Trips in the Jungle and Shnade Trips Up (Part 4)
Candy Comes in the Jungle and Shnade Becomes the Man (Part 3)
Candy in Bolivia and Shnade in Hawaii (Part 2)
Candy in Argentina (Part 1)
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