Chapter 4: Chinatown Daze
We're only making plans for Revy,
We only want what's best for her,
We're only making plans for Revy,
Revy just needs this helping hand
-- apologies to XTC
"Bac Gaan, I hear you've found a boom boom girl."
"Hua. Don't believe everything you hear. These stories get better and better."
"Hiding away a young girl in your place. Didn't think you were a pervert - the little school girl type I bet. If she's not for boom boom, is she any good at yum yum? Ah haha ha."
"You've got a foul mouth and mind, boy."
"Yeah Bac I do. It's this fucking city. What's a girl good for? They're good for sex, that's it. A bitch is only worth my time if they get down and stay down. Otherwise you can't trust them. They're trouble, nothing but trouble.
"Then, think about those boys of yours. They're a pack of dogs, they're noisy, they're visible. They walk down the street, everyone knows. They get in a fight, everyone knows. They use those damn guns, everyone knows. But cats are invisible. They hide, and then they strike - and they do their hunting alone."
"Cats and dogs, I get it. Useful for different situations. Why you thinking this way Bac?
"Think about our friends the Italians. The Five Families are a shamble right now because Don Salvatore got himself shot up. And who shot him ?
"The whisper mill says it was Noir. But that's something completely different."
"Is it? Maybe. But I'm going to run the girl down to Newark this Friday and let her have a night out with the Stalkers. If she can't handle it then Stereo Slim can have the girl back and I'm out a lot of pizza. He's up on his protection fees."
"Ooyyy, Bac."
"What Martin?"
"I hate cats."
--
The next day Revy went up the stairwell to the rooftop by herself. Mr. Gaan had left the keys behind for her.
The air was a still and soupy summer smog that smelled of exhaust, the sounds the distant horn and shout of a summer afternoon. She could look down on the concrete and steel canyons, the people moving about below without being involved. Up here on what New Yorkers called the tar beach Revy believed she had found her refuge and let her thoughts drift.
The sound of the steel safety door being slammed and the critch, critch of shoes on the tar paper brought her up in a panic from the corner edge where she had been sitting. She grabbed a loose brick in her hands.
The boy was probably around fifteen. He was dressed in black pants, black canvas shoes and cotton sports coat. He carried a large plastic bag in one hand. He saw her and swaggered towards her.
Revy moved to put one of the skylights that poked up from the roof between them that was as close as she wanted the boy. But there was the issue of him being between the door and her.
"My Aunt got you some stuff," he said and tossed the plastic bag over to her. She let it go by, not taking her eyes off of him. "That old guy you're with asked her," he explained looking her over coolly.
She felt her cheeks go red. Knew what he must be seeing, a thin, tense girl, wearing nothing but a pair of Gann's boxer shorts and an undershirt. After yesterday he had refused to let her borrow another pair of his chinos and work shirts.
"I'm Tony Ngo."
"You can go now," she said, poised to run if need be.
He lit a cigarette, "You wanna fuck?"
"No!"
"I could just do it," he said spreading his arms, as if to take in the rooftop with his reach. "Who's gonna stop me?"
"Just try," she snarled, hefting the brick in her hand.
Tony started laughing, "I'm just kidding. You're too fuckin' skinny anyway."
He walked over to the edge of the rooftop, sat down and started smoking a cigarette, pretending to ignore her.
Kneeling down warily with him in view, she opened the bag and then gasped: Two pairs of black jeans, socks, black canvas sneakers, underwear, for God's sake underwear, a number of t-shirts and other stuff she absolutely needed.
She almost started crying, dismissed the tears with a snap of her head. It had been almost two months since they took everything from her, two months huddled in a ragged blanket and an old man's work clothes.
"I'll let my Aunt know you said thanks. Maybe now you could stop pounding on our ceiling, she really hates that," Tony said dryly.
"Yeah, yeah" she blurted out and ripped off Gaan's undershirt and boxer shorts right then and there. Ngo snorted and almost swallowed his cigarette. She didn't give a crap what he thought or saw she just wanted to wear real clothing now!
There was Chinese lettering on the fronts of the t-shirts. On the back of each was the number 187.
She sat down a good distance from him and laced up the shoes as fast as she could.
"What does it say," she said tracing out the characters on the shirt. "They all look the same."
"It says kick me!" he said. "Here, you want a cigarette?"
"Yeah, but you can throw it over to me."
The moment she picked it up, he started laughing yet again. "Now you're my girl." When she shook her head mystified he explained. "You take a cigarette from me, you're my girlfriend. Don't go looking at other guys now, or I'll have to give you a good beating. You really don't have a clue do you?"
He turned around to face her and she sprung to her feet, but he was speaking earnestly now, "Here it's all about respect, cause people here will disrespect you. They'll look for you to be weak, like that. And if you don't stand up, you're going down, cause they're gonna keep at you. It's not going to be fists, it'll be knives or guns."
"You better figure it out now, cause from what I saw you don't. I was in the lobby the night that dude carried you in. You looked all dead then"
"Well, uhh, ahh shit," she flicked the cigarette back at him. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Tony. "I felt pretty dead. That's me, I'm the dead girl. I'm nobody's girl."
"Hey you know what dead girl?" Tony said, "I hang out up here all the time, it's a good place to do schoolwork (yeah I do it) but I do some cool stuff also. You wanna see something cool?" He stood up, rolled his shoulders. There was a sparkle in his eyes. "Follow me."
Revy trailed behind him, keeping her distance. She could have easily bolted down the stairs as they went across the rooftop, but she was curious. Tony Ngo was the most interesting thing happening after weeks of staring blankly at a television.
On the other side of the roof, he stopped, looked down at the small parking lot tucked below the building. Then he took off the jacket, bent and picked up the end of a rope lying there on the tar, slung the loop across one shoulder and another under his armpit, gripped it tightly in both hands and looked at her with a big smile.
"Ever hear this one?"
"Hey," Herbie said, "Tony, can you fly?
But Tony couldn't fly... Tony died!"
Tony sprinted away from her. He sprang up on the ledge and flung himself off with a whoop.
With an astounded yell, Revy rushed to the side, just in time to see him swing back in an arc like an urban Tarzan and catch the steel railing of the stairwell alongside the tenement building a good fifteen meters below.
"You asshole!" Revy shrieked, jumping up and down. "Get the freakin' hell back up here with that rope! I want to try. It's my turn!"
--
Her first foray out was screwed up.
She went out in the afternoon, when the weekend tourists flooded lower Manhattan in their thousands and she had the misplaced belief there was safety in numbers..
Weaving down the Canal Street sidewalk by the continual traffic jam, past the little stores with their goods spilling out, by the clusters of food vendor carts she turned on to Mott Street and instantly decided that Chinatown stunk.
It really stunk. The press of the crowd people, the heat, the dead fish being sold on the open air markets made her gorge rise in her throat. The sight of one vendor selling live frogs made her lips twitch in disgust.
The fourth of July was a week away, and hundreds of peddlers were out selling fireworks, the hawkers beckoning customers within closed doors to avoid the police.
Revy tagged along with one group and checked out an array of supper snappers, M-80s, blockbusters and Roman candles in what was some kind of social club. She particularly liked the M-80s, and moved closer to look at them.
"Get out," hissed the scrawny vendor lunging at her, "Get out, get out! chow fah hai!"
Revy recoiled and exited quickly, but as she went further down the street it became apparent that somehow she was marked. Old women behind counters started shouting when she came near the booths, men would wave her away once they saw her, their eyes flicking across her, their faces blanching.
Revy found herself hunching her shoulders more and more. Each turned head and back made her more unwelcome than she had ever felt. Here in Chinatown, as an Asian the girl should have blended in, but there was no anonymity granted.
She made it as far as the large white building at 41 Mott Street, glanced briefly up at the wooden pagoda roof, and decided enough was enough. Turning, she dodged back up through the crowds, put her head down, alone among all the chaos.
--
Revy went as far up as Delancey Street and out of Chinatown. She made the mistake of going briefly down into the subway, but doubled back, the subway brought back memories of Akihito she didn't want to dwell on.
Hunger drove her into a Burger King and when she saw a half eaten cheeseburger and drink that had been left behind, she had no scruples after a quick glance around to take them for herself. The food situation in Gaan's flat was never good, the man did most of his eating elsewhere.
She sat at one of the middle tables, placing herself where she could quickly get up and bolt if need be. Her caution proved well founded.
Three girls sauntered up to the table and sat down uninvited. They were Hispanic, dressed similarly in baggy pant and cut off t-shirts.
They didn't say anything, just stared at her. The one directly across from Revy was a large girl around sixteen who was chewing gum. The one next to her was a smaller girl with a cold squint. The one who crowded her on the right was a tall thin dark skinned girl with full lips.
"What the hell are you doin' here?"
"Eating," said Revy. No one else was paying attention. There were people at the counter. She put her left hand on the edge of the table, the right curled around the half empty soda.
"No, hoochie," the large girl leaned forward. "What are you doing? Why you here?"
As she spoke, the smaller girl with the squint smiled and affected a yawn – as she moved her hand up something flashed, and Revy realized the girl was flipping a razor with her tongue.
At that Revy flung the soda at the large girl facing her, swung it in an arc so the contents, soda and ice-cubes sprayed both the large girl and the one with the razor-blade. The swing continued and the back of her hand slammed into the thin girl's face.
Driving her feet into the ground she drove herself away from the table and tried to somersault over the next table onto her feet. The move did not work quite as planned and instead fell to the floor, limbs flailing..
There was chaos. Screams arose from the counter and the workers bolted for the back of the the kitchen.
"Oh my fuckin' god, I swallowed the razor, oh shit, oh shit!" the small girl was wailing holding her hand over her mouth, her mouth sliced open, blood dripping down the front of her chest.
The large girl had recovered quickly and sprang on Revy as people bolted for the doors. Before Revy could get to her feet, the girl swung a vicious kick to her head.
"We're going to freakin' kill you bitch!" she stepped forward for another kick as Revy scrambled under the tables to get away.
A group of boys scrambled over the divider between the counter and into the eating area. Two of them tackled the large girl who went down to the ground cursing.
The leader reached down and grabbed Revy by the hair and hauled her off the ground spitting and swinging and slammed her down on a table, thrust his hand violently into her throat so that the web between the thumb and the first finger choked her.
"You know, if I had my gun," he said for her alone, leaning and down and speaking in Revy's ear as she flailed desperately "I'd just kill you and the hell with it. The Soaring Serpents are getting sick of this crap."
"But," and the pressure on her throat relaxed and she was able to breathe, "I know what that says on your shirt. So why don't you break? We'll take care of these bitches. Stay down on Canal or whatever. If the BTK wants a war we'll go, but not today. I'll respect it, for now."
With that he flung her off the table and she fell on the floor again.
Revy got up with difficulty, blood streaming down the side of her face from the kick. The small girl was still wailing and screeching, but at Revy's feet the razor lay on the floor, she picked it up. The girl had not swallowed it.
"What does it say," Revy snarled at the boys who stood watching her. She thrust her finger at her chest, at the Chinese lettering on the shirt. "I don't get it."
The leader's eyes widened and then he started laughing, the kind of laughter meant to cut and ridicule.
"You're property of Martin Sai and the BTK. The 187 means anyone touches you, they die. You're owned."
--
Bac – Uncle (Vietnamese.)
BTK – Born to Kill, or the Canal Boys.
Tony's song: "For the People Who Died" - copyright Jim Carroll