Changes (25 page)

"Randall…you promised."

"Yes, but… but that’s not a dance."

"Oh?" She slipped back into her previous routine.  Somewhere Salome was taking notes. 

Tracy spun around and leaned her shoulders against my chest; the rest of her body rolled backward fluidly, crashing against me like a wave.  Something somewhere below my waist short circuited.

"This isn’t dancing?" She said, craning up to kiss the cut on my chin.

"Yes…very nice… dance.  But me.  I mean… I can’t."

Get a hold of yourself, man.

"What I mean is that it’s lovely for you.  I can’t do anything like that.  I’d be fine with the standard old boring slow dance.  I’m
king
of the standard old boring slow dance."

"You’re a poo."

She walked back to the stereo and slapped the off switch.

"Trace--" I said.

She walked away and closed the bathroom door.  After a few minutes, I went and knocked.

"What," she said.

"I do know one dance…" I said.

She opened the door a crack and leveled one lovely eye.  I gave my most charming cheesy grin and said, "The Horizontal Hula."

Her lips rose ever so slightly.

"Until further notice, that’s a solo number," she said just before slamming the door.

74

When she emerged, at last, from the bathroom, it was as though our exchange had never happened.  She gave me a sly smile and wink and told me I should change.

"What, you don’t love me just the way I am?" I said.

"Your clothes, dorkus."

My central nervous system finally finished processing her new dress and I nodded dumbly.

It was a pseudo-translucent, shimmery blue thing – gossamer in the extreme, and nearly indecent.

I said, "Guh," or some such thing.

She narrowed her eyes playfully and said, "It’s not like it’s anything you haven’t seen before…"

"But the presentation is lovely," I said, "What’s the occasion?"

"I’m going dancing," she said.

My heart sank.  "Oh," I said.

There were two ways this could play out, and neither of them looked good.  Either she’d had enough of Grampa Lee, or she expected me to go with her.  For the first time in my life, I prayed for a night of dancing.

"Mm-hm," she said, "Me and Daniel and Tony.  You coming?"

The effects of the dress were still short-circuiting portions of my brain. 

I said, "Wait, what?  Daniel and Tony?  My Daniel and Tony?"

She giggled and said, "I didn’t know you guys were an item."

"You know what I mean… Tony Lau.  That’s the Tony you’re talking about."

"Mm-hm," she said, cocking her head and putting her hands on her hips.

"And how did this come about?"

"I called them.  They’re still in the hotel," Tracy said.

"Why would you do that?"

"Because something’s been gnawing at my brain stem and I wanted a chance to… more fully test my hypothesis."

"What?" I said, "What?"  Because I’m a genius.

"You just sit back and watch.  Women’s intuition," was all she said.

75

We met Tony and Daniel just outside of the club on Washington.  Both men were dressed immaculately in tailored silk suits – Tony’s white, Daniel’s a dark plum; I was, according to Tracy, "kickin’ it old skool" in jeans and a pullover.  I’m pretty sure ‘old skool’ was actually some kind of code for "homeless person."

"Hey guys," Tracy said with a wide grin as she ran up and hugged each of them.

"I see your plan worked," Daniel said.

"Like a charm, baby," Tracy said glancing over to me.

Tony laughed and headed for the doors.

"Plan?" I said.

"She say you have a jealous heart, Doctor," Daniel said, the vaguest hint of a smile at the corners of his lips.  I raised my eyebrows and leveled a look at Tracy.  She winked and blew me a kiss.  Looking to the club entrance, with its aneurysm inducing bass and its flashing lights and fog, my mind imagined the world’s trendiest and most obnoxious UFO.  I sighed and took a step toward my fate.

  Right into a massive globule of regurgitated chewing gum on the sidewalk.  "Aw, shit." I said, lifting my shoe to inspect the gooey damage.  I heard Tracy giggle.  Looking up, I saw that the others had already gone inside; she’d waited for me, which was nice.

"Well, Randall, it’s official.  You’re an honest-to-God gumshoe now," she smirked and turned to go inside.

I sighed again.

76

There are many reasons to dislike dance clubs.  Each person is an individual, and their reasons are as unique as the patterns of snowflakes.

Here, however, are some of mine: 

For one thing, I tend to like songs that have a clear-cut beginning, middle, and end.

If I wanted to hear four hours of the same thing, I’d go home and throw on my Iron Butterfly album.  I’m not big on smoke.  Tobacco smoke, pot smoke, that wet-dog’s-ass-on-fire fog that fills the dance floor, or the inevitable wisps produced by the friction of having 250 people rubbing together in a ten foot by ten foot square.

That brings me to another peeve. 

Sweat.

I don’t like my own, why would I voluntarily bathe in the fluids of a room full of Ritalin-addicted twenty-something ravers?

The answer is that I wouldn’t.

Except that whenever I’d look over and see her eyes again they’d make me stupid.

Luckily for me, I was still about eight shots of vodka from donning a light stick and white-man’s-overbite-ing my way into the Embarrassing Old Bastard’s Hall of Fame.

After handling the gum incident in a very me fashion, I went in the club, got carded, got the typical double take I usually got when people saw my age, and found my party at a round table in a far corner overlooking the dance floor.  I slid my way up to them and made it to the table in time to catch the waitress as she took our drink orders.

I sat next to Tracy in the booth and smoothly dragged my heels over the carpeted steps.

"For you?" the waitress mouthed over the thump and whir of the shit on the speakers.

"Jack and coke," I shouted.

She gave me a thumbs up and started to walk away.

"Agh!" she shouted loud enough to be heard over the music.  She lifted her shoe and glared at the gum trailing from it to the carpeted step.

"God-fucking-dammit."

I played it cool.

Looking around our table, I said, "Man.  I sure am glad I didn’t step in it."

77

"You want the first dance?" Tracy said, batting her eyes at me.

"Sorry," I said, "not nearly drunk enough."

She sighed and turned to Daniel.  "I’d be honored," he said, taking her hand and whisking her away to the orgy of sweaty, bouncy stupidity below.

That left just me and Tony.  He stared out at the floor.  I decided to try it.  I caught more than a few dudes checking out the highly visible parts of Tracy’s figure.  I fantasized about leaping over the railing and viciously chopping each of them in the forehead; it made me smile.

Tracy and Daniel went to town, quickly becoming quite the dance floor sensation.  I half expected the crowd to part like it was Saturday Night Fever or something, but it didn’t really happen that way.  Thinly veiled beneath their movements, one could clearly see her pure sexuality and his lethal nature.  Sex and death, the perennial twins of fascination.

"…Really something, eh?" Tony yelled.

I nodded, finished my drink, and thought, ‘…and she’s going home with me, buddy.’

"Not much for dancing, yourself, though?" He said.

With my empty glass in hand, I remembered my rule about beverages and speaking.

And yet my mouth opened anyway.

"You can’t possibly think you can take on everybody, Tony," I said.

He went with one of my lines.  "What?"

I fondled my empty glass longingly and said, "Feds are involved now.  I know all about the Tigers’ big ole killin’ spree.  You’re the new boss.  You telling me you didn’t order it?"

"…What?  No!" He said.  He stared at me with wide eyes and a slack jaw.  Why didn’t anyone ever just break down and confess to me?  Why couldn’t it, just for once, be simple and easy?

"C’mon, Tony.  I’m not a cop.  Just be straight with me.  Your dad, your fiancée, and your unborn kid all get whacked by – probably - some rival gang.  It’s a natural reaction to want revenge.  It’s even natural to lash out at any possible enemy… but it’s not smart.  Somebody’s already got a serious beef with your family.  No point in making it worse."

"I don’t even know what you’re talking about," he said.  Just then, my lovely returned.  She slid into the booth next to me, her skin shone from the light and the sweat.  She looked ecstatic.

Daniel came back too.  He looked… like Daniel.

"How’s it goin’, party poopers?" Tracy said between sips of her drink.

"Fine," Tony said.  Even with the pounding beat in our ears, it was easy to perceive that
his
fine did not mean fine.  Tracy looked from him to me; she chewed on her straw.

Tony was staring at me.  His eyes were cold and hard. 

Something I said?

Daniel leaned over to Tony and said something close to his ear. 

Tony shook his head very slightly.

Tracy picked up her water glass and fumbled it, soaking the front of her already revealing dress.  Without averting his gaze from me, Tony Lau took his handkerchief from his jacket pocket and offered it to Tracy.

"Thanks," she shouted.

He nodded but still stared at me.  I chanced a glance at Daniel, just to make sure he wasn’t getting ready to spin-kick me to oblivion.  The Brazilian sat with his head bowed.  He might have been studying the table top or his hands; it was hard to tell with his dark sunglasses.

"All I want is the truth, Tony," I said.

"Are you sure?" Tracy said.  It surprised me.  It felt like everybody knew something I didn’t.  I didn’t particularly care for that feeling.

Apparently I wasn’t the only one.  Tony Lau had turned his focus to Tracy too.

"How long have you two been hiding?" She said to him.

"Hiding?" Tony said.  Daniel raised his head; it was pointed roughly in Tracy’s direction, so I assumed she had his attention as well.  Tracy nodded and regarded him calmly. 

Daniel said, "Seven years."

Tony spun toward him and glared.  Daniel bowed his head again.  I struggled, in vain, to comprehend the exchange.  Tracy glanced at me and smiled slyly.

"Who exactly is hiding from what, please?" I said.

Tony and Daniel were silent.  Neither of them looked at me.

Over the music, Tracy shouted, "If you don’t tell I will, guys.  He only wants to help.  Really."

Tony didn’t look happy.  His mouth was a scrunched up sneer, his skin flushed a dark crimson.  Tracy watched him for a minute and abruptly turned to me.  As she opened her mouth to speak, Tony said, "Fine."

Tracy winked at me and leaned back in the booth, crossing her arms with satisfaction.

"Doctor Lee," Tony said and stopped, searching for words, "my father was a great man.  You may not believe it, but he truly was.  Throughout my life, his primary concern was my happiness, my safety.  Life in a Triad in Hong Kong is not easy.  Not safe.  He brought the family to America so that I would not have to live the kind of life he’d had.  He brought Mei Ling to the states for me… to protect me."

He stopped and stared at the table.  Better the table than me, I thought.  I waited, knowing he’d speak when he was ready.  The music still battered my central nervous system, but in that moment, the club felt very quiet, very still.

"He understood, right from the first.  I was so afraid, but he just… he took me in his arms, y’know, and he said that - no matter what - I was his son.  I wanted to just tell the world, I was so happy then… but he told me how dangerous that could be.  For me, for him… for the family.  Some things are still seen as weakness.  The Chinese are an old fashioned people."

There was a tightness to Lau that I’d never noticed until now, as it loosened and unwound the muscles around his eyes and jaw.  Whatever he was confessing to, it was a profound unburdening to him. 

"I told you the truth about Mei Ling.  As children, we were best of friends.  My father hired the astrologer who compared our signs.  He was convinced that we would be a perfect couple.  Years later, even though he knew, he paid a great deal of money to bring her here."

He slumped in the booth, his eyes cast now at the floor.

"There had been rumors, however careful we’d been.  My father paid her… to help alleviate the shame.  Mei Ling did not care.  She was still my friend.  Perhaps she even loved me a little."

"You didn’t love her," I said. The three of them looked up at me; I felt very dense, but I didn’t know why.  There was a fuzzy sort of sensation in the back of my brain, as if the connections really wanted to click but just couldn’t reach.  Tracy gave me a sympathetic smile and patted my hand.  Imitating Daniel’s accent, she said, "You ‘ave a jealous ‘eart, yes?"

"Apparently, yes."

"Yet you let me dance with Daniel," she bit her lip and lowered her chin a little.

"So?"

"Would you let me dance with one of the guys down on the dance floor?"

"Well, I don’t really have anything to say about it.  You can dance with anybody you want to dance with, but I wouldn’t like it."

"Because you’d be jealous," she said.

"Damn right," I said.

"But you’re not very jealous of Tony or Daniel?"

"No, not really," I said.

"Why not?"

I shrugged.  The techno was starting to really give me a headache.

"Might it be because they don’t look at me the way some of the other guys do?" She said.

I shrugged again.

She leaned in close and said something.  I knew I couldn’t have heard it right.

"What?" I said.

She got in very close and yelled.  This time there was no mistaking it.

"They’re gay, dear," she’d said.