Chapter 14: In the Club
About a block after he left the restaurant, Angel realized something. "Have to piss like a racehorse," he spoke. The woman walking next to him gave him a dirty look for his blatant statement. Rolling his eyes, he stumbled along the sidewalk in search of a bathroom.
The first place he found was a run-down club with a bright, glowing neon sign outside. "Club Tran," the blinking letters read. Angel had never been much of a club person. Lenny's friends used to have big parties almost every weekend, with lots of alcohol, drugs, and dancing. As much as Angel loved to dance, he and Lenny never went to the parties. They preferred to do interesting, exotic things by themselves, like scouring Soho to find an interesting boutique, or a cheap organic restaurant. Unbelievably, Angel had never even touched drugs or alcohol. Sighing, he approached the front entrance of the club.
An obese man in a security uniform blocked the entrance. Angel could hear the pounding bass from outside.
"Need to get in?" He asked, looking down, skeptically at the young boy.
"Yeah," Angel replied, cracking his knuckles. It was a bad nervous habit. He was afraid they'd card him, find out he was only 17, and not let him in. he wasn't going to drink: all he needed to do was use the bathroom.
"You drinkin'" the man asked fumbling through the pockets of his navy security jacket.
"Uh, no," replied Angel, surprised he wasn't being carded. People always told him he could pass for 12, if he tried.
Stamping Angel's hand with an illegible blue blob, the man opened the heavy steel doors. "Enjoy," he said shoving the stamp back into his pocket, and slamming the door behind Angel.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The music was insanely loud, the bass pounding, sending vibrations through Angel's body. He looked around and saw a sea of tall women, with long, flowing hair, short, glittery dresses, and high platform heels. Their dresses glowed under the strobe lights and disco balls. In awe, Angel wandered around the large, open space until he found the bar, and sat down. A tall woman sat next to him, sweeping her long, shiny lemonade hair away from her face.
"Enrico, baby, get me a beer," She said, but the voice coming out of her slim, feminine form was that of a man: deep and husky.
Doing a double-take, Angel gawked at the woman/man next to him.
"Here you go, Jay," the bartender said, handing her a drink.
"Thanks, doll. But remember, when I'm like this, you call me Jaya," she giggled, still in a deep tone.
"Sure thing, babe," he replied, and continued cleaning the worn wooden counter.
"Oh my god," Angel said out loud, "I'm in a drag club."
"Right you are, honey," Jaya said to him, winking in his direction.
"Um, uh. where's the bathroom?"
"Down the hall over there, to the left," she told him, chugging her beer.
"Uh okay," he replied quietly, leaving his stool at the bar. "At least they're all gay," he said, smiling, knowing he wasn't alone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Breathing a sigh of relief, Angel walked out of the bathroom and nearly collided into someone.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed, apologetically, looking into the black eyes of another drag queen.
"Dear, don't even worry about it," she replied in a high, feminine voice. "I've never seen you here before," the queen continued, "What's your name, sugar?"
"I-I'm Angel."
"Indeed you are. You can call me Queenie. I own this club, along with my fabulous partner in crime, Frederico," she said, extending her hand. Giving her a firm handshake Angel smiled. "My my, you're strong," she laughed, "How'd you find out about this place?"
"I-uh," he stammered, "I'm homeless. See, my bags are over there," Angel told her, pointing to the two large suitcases with the glowing crosses on the handles. "I really needed to use a bathroom, I'm sorry."
Queenie instantly scooped him up in a loving hug, "You poor thing," he said, releasing Angel. "When I came here from China, I was homeless too. I know how it is, sugar, you wanna talk about it at all?" Queenie asked him, taking his hand and guiding him into an empty room, with glowing blue walls and fluorescent green carpet.
"There's not much to tell," Angel said, not wanting to recount the tragic events of the draining day.
"Honey, everyone's got a story, and it sounds like you need someone to tell yours to. So come on, spill," Queenie said, trying to coax it out of him, as they both sat down on a fluffy blue coach. Queenie still held his hand tightly, looking into his amber eyes, waiting for him to pour it all out.
"Alright, uh, I'll make a long story really really short. My boyfriend's parents caught us having sex last night, they kicked me out, and I went to see my mother, who had left my father two months ago when he kicked me out for being gay. She was in the hospital 'cause my father attacked her, or something, and she died this afternoon. So I lost the two most important people in the world in one day, and now I'm alone, and I have nobody."
Angel didn't even realize he was crying until Queenie handed him a tissue, and embraced him, once again. "Listen, baby, I'm gonna do something for you," the drag queen told him, sincerely. Angel clung tightly to her blue sequin dress, and buried his head in her long black wig. She continued, "There's an extra dressing room down the hall. Nobody ever uses t, and there's a big couch in there, and everything. So you, my dear, are going to stay there. The streets are NOT kind to people like you and me, sugar."
"You mean that?" Angel asked wiping away his tears and looking up into the sparkling, almond, Asian eyes of his new friend.
"Absolutely, and I will not take no for an answer," he said, ruffling Angel's curly black hair. "But," he paused, "You will need to work."
Angel knew there was a catch. "What do I have to do?"
"Do you sing, dance, anything?" Queenie asked him.
"Yeah, I sing and play the drums. And I dance, a little," Angel said hopefully.
"Perfect!" Queenie squealed. She continued, "We have a performance schedule every day, and we're seriously lacking in talent. That's not to say that I don't love our performers to death, but let me tell you, honey, they NEED a little work. As it is, we only have about four different people doing anything, and the audience is getting sick and tired of hearing "If I could turn back time" every day. We need you."
"So you're saying all I have to do is perform everyday, and I get to live here and I get food?" He asked excitedly.
"Yeah honey, that's it. And, any money you make from tips is all yours," she said, smiling down at the young boy.
"Oh my God!" Angel exclaimed, wrapping his arms tightly around Queenie's slim waist, "Queenie, you're the best! Thank you so much!"
"Aw, honey, it's no problem, really," she reassured him, rubbing his shoulders, "I see a lot of myself in you, and when I first came here, I could've used some help you know. Just someone to get me back on my feet."
"If you don't mind me asking, what happened when you came here?"
"I don't mind at all," she said, sighing, and pursing her red, glossy lips, "but this might take a while."
Angel sat back, and held Queenie's hand, if simply to comfort them both, than nothing else. Queenie squeezed his hand, and smiled down at him as she began to talk.
"Obviously, my real name's not Queenie, and I am no woman. Although, I make one convincing drag queen, or so I've been told," she laughed, and continued, "My real name is Quen-Yong Chan, and I came to America from China when I was 15 years old."
"Wow, that's young."
"Yeah, but it really didn't seem like that at the time. My parents never seemed too thrilled with my brother and me. You know how most parents think their kids are the eighth wonder of the world? Yeah, I was far from one of those wonders, and so was my brother. He was six years older than me, and he vowed that s soon as he could, he would get both of us out of China and away from our parents. He worked three different jobs and dropped out of high school so he could get more money and get us out of China as soon as possible. I have never seen any boy work so hard for anything. He wanted to be in America so bad, he could taste it." Queenie's eyes were glazed over while she was speaking about her brother.
"What's so bad about China?" asked Angel.
"I can tell you've never been there, sugar. It's just... I don't really even know, because there's a lot of stuff I just don't remember. I remember never being happy, though, and that's a horrible thing. Seriously, since I've been here, I don't think there's ever been a time where I just sat down and was like 'Lord, am I miserable.' So, anyway, when I was still living in China, my brother used to tutor me in English. He had friends and teachers who had helped him learn it, and he told me that he wouldn't go to America without me, and he needed me to learn English before I could go. I barely even remember Chinese, because I had English drilled into my head since I can remember. Maybe that's why I have no accent,"
"That's amazing. My mother came here from Peru, and she had the thickest accent I'd ever heard. If I didn't speak fluent Spanish, then I really wouldn't be able to understand her," Angel said, his heart aching from the memory of Mami.
"Ooh!" Queenie squealed, squeezing Angel's hand even harder, "Frederico speaks Spanish too! He's from New Mexico, but his parents spoke it at home. You'd love him! And since you're gonna be spending a whole lot of time here, you better get acquainted with him. I'll go find him, honey, you wait here." Queenie said, hugging Angel as he got up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Minutes later, a talk black man entered the room. He was very handsome, Angel had to admit, and slightly intimidating, due to his sheer size. He was HUGE. At least 6 foot 4, maybe taller. Queenie wasn't too short either, and he made her look tiny. Smiling a bright, dazzling smile down at Angel, he introduced himself. "Hey, I'm Fred," he said, his deep bass voice having a warm, friendly quality to it.
"I'm Angel."
"Well, it's nice to meet you. I see you've met my lady, Queenie," he said, hugging her tightly. "She's beautiful, isn't she?" he stated, grabbing her waist and tickling her.
"Baby.," she giggled, blushing, as Fred whispered something in her ear.
"Angel, how old are you?" Fred asked, in all seriousness, still holding tightly onto Queenie, "You're out of high school, aren't you?"
"Uh yeah," Angel replied. He felt ashamed. He'd never lied like that before.
"Good," Fred replied.
"Timmy wouldn't let anyone under 18 into the club, Freddy. You know that!" Queenie exclaimed.
"Just making sure, babe, you never know," Fred said, kissing her. "You know, Angel, when Queenie was dragging me back here, she couldn't stop talking about you. She said you reminded her of a 'mini-Queenie.' "
Angel smiled, blushing. "Thank you," he replied.
"Well, Angel babe, we need to get back to our business, but you just go straight down this hallway, all the way to the end, and the spare room is the last one on your left. You can make yourself at home dear. You've had a tough day, and I bet you could use some rest," Queenie said, smiling at him.
"Thanks. Really, I mean it," Angel told her and Fred, sincerely.
"Don't even think twice about it. Get some sleep, honey, we got a lot of shopping to do tomorrow!" she said, and hugged him one last time.
Hauling his suitcases down the hall, Angel entered the cozy room, just grateful to have a place to sleep. He changed into Lenny's big basketball jersey and flannel pants, pulled the blanket on the couch over his body, and shut off the lights, ending the day.
About a block after he left the restaurant, Angel realized something. "Have to piss like a racehorse," he spoke. The woman walking next to him gave him a dirty look for his blatant statement. Rolling his eyes, he stumbled along the sidewalk in search of a bathroom.
The first place he found was a run-down club with a bright, glowing neon sign outside. "Club Tran," the blinking letters read. Angel had never been much of a club person. Lenny's friends used to have big parties almost every weekend, with lots of alcohol, drugs, and dancing. As much as Angel loved to dance, he and Lenny never went to the parties. They preferred to do interesting, exotic things by themselves, like scouring Soho to find an interesting boutique, or a cheap organic restaurant. Unbelievably, Angel had never even touched drugs or alcohol. Sighing, he approached the front entrance of the club.
An obese man in a security uniform blocked the entrance. Angel could hear the pounding bass from outside.
"Need to get in?" He asked, looking down, skeptically at the young boy.
"Yeah," Angel replied, cracking his knuckles. It was a bad nervous habit. He was afraid they'd card him, find out he was only 17, and not let him in. he wasn't going to drink: all he needed to do was use the bathroom.
"You drinkin'" the man asked fumbling through the pockets of his navy security jacket.
"Uh, no," replied Angel, surprised he wasn't being carded. People always told him he could pass for 12, if he tried.
Stamping Angel's hand with an illegible blue blob, the man opened the heavy steel doors. "Enjoy," he said shoving the stamp back into his pocket, and slamming the door behind Angel.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The music was insanely loud, the bass pounding, sending vibrations through Angel's body. He looked around and saw a sea of tall women, with long, flowing hair, short, glittery dresses, and high platform heels. Their dresses glowed under the strobe lights and disco balls. In awe, Angel wandered around the large, open space until he found the bar, and sat down. A tall woman sat next to him, sweeping her long, shiny lemonade hair away from her face.
"Enrico, baby, get me a beer," She said, but the voice coming out of her slim, feminine form was that of a man: deep and husky.
Doing a double-take, Angel gawked at the woman/man next to him.
"Here you go, Jay," the bartender said, handing her a drink.
"Thanks, doll. But remember, when I'm like this, you call me Jaya," she giggled, still in a deep tone.
"Sure thing, babe," he replied, and continued cleaning the worn wooden counter.
"Oh my god," Angel said out loud, "I'm in a drag club."
"Right you are, honey," Jaya said to him, winking in his direction.
"Um, uh. where's the bathroom?"
"Down the hall over there, to the left," she told him, chugging her beer.
"Uh okay," he replied quietly, leaving his stool at the bar. "At least they're all gay," he said, smiling, knowing he wasn't alone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Breathing a sigh of relief, Angel walked out of the bathroom and nearly collided into someone.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed, apologetically, looking into the black eyes of another drag queen.
"Dear, don't even worry about it," she replied in a high, feminine voice. "I've never seen you here before," the queen continued, "What's your name, sugar?"
"I-I'm Angel."
"Indeed you are. You can call me Queenie. I own this club, along with my fabulous partner in crime, Frederico," she said, extending her hand. Giving her a firm handshake Angel smiled. "My my, you're strong," she laughed, "How'd you find out about this place?"
"I-uh," he stammered, "I'm homeless. See, my bags are over there," Angel told her, pointing to the two large suitcases with the glowing crosses on the handles. "I really needed to use a bathroom, I'm sorry."
Queenie instantly scooped him up in a loving hug, "You poor thing," he said, releasing Angel. "When I came here from China, I was homeless too. I know how it is, sugar, you wanna talk about it at all?" Queenie asked him, taking his hand and guiding him into an empty room, with glowing blue walls and fluorescent green carpet.
"There's not much to tell," Angel said, not wanting to recount the tragic events of the draining day.
"Honey, everyone's got a story, and it sounds like you need someone to tell yours to. So come on, spill," Queenie said, trying to coax it out of him, as they both sat down on a fluffy blue coach. Queenie still held his hand tightly, looking into his amber eyes, waiting for him to pour it all out.
"Alright, uh, I'll make a long story really really short. My boyfriend's parents caught us having sex last night, they kicked me out, and I went to see my mother, who had left my father two months ago when he kicked me out for being gay. She was in the hospital 'cause my father attacked her, or something, and she died this afternoon. So I lost the two most important people in the world in one day, and now I'm alone, and I have nobody."
Angel didn't even realize he was crying until Queenie handed him a tissue, and embraced him, once again. "Listen, baby, I'm gonna do something for you," the drag queen told him, sincerely. Angel clung tightly to her blue sequin dress, and buried his head in her long black wig. She continued, "There's an extra dressing room down the hall. Nobody ever uses t, and there's a big couch in there, and everything. So you, my dear, are going to stay there. The streets are NOT kind to people like you and me, sugar."
"You mean that?" Angel asked wiping away his tears and looking up into the sparkling, almond, Asian eyes of his new friend.
"Absolutely, and I will not take no for an answer," he said, ruffling Angel's curly black hair. "But," he paused, "You will need to work."
Angel knew there was a catch. "What do I have to do?"
"Do you sing, dance, anything?" Queenie asked him.
"Yeah, I sing and play the drums. And I dance, a little," Angel said hopefully.
"Perfect!" Queenie squealed. She continued, "We have a performance schedule every day, and we're seriously lacking in talent. That's not to say that I don't love our performers to death, but let me tell you, honey, they NEED a little work. As it is, we only have about four different people doing anything, and the audience is getting sick and tired of hearing "If I could turn back time" every day. We need you."
"So you're saying all I have to do is perform everyday, and I get to live here and I get food?" He asked excitedly.
"Yeah honey, that's it. And, any money you make from tips is all yours," she said, smiling down at the young boy.
"Oh my God!" Angel exclaimed, wrapping his arms tightly around Queenie's slim waist, "Queenie, you're the best! Thank you so much!"
"Aw, honey, it's no problem, really," she reassured him, rubbing his shoulders, "I see a lot of myself in you, and when I first came here, I could've used some help you know. Just someone to get me back on my feet."
"If you don't mind me asking, what happened when you came here?"
"I don't mind at all," she said, sighing, and pursing her red, glossy lips, "but this might take a while."
Angel sat back, and held Queenie's hand, if simply to comfort them both, than nothing else. Queenie squeezed his hand, and smiled down at him as she began to talk.
"Obviously, my real name's not Queenie, and I am no woman. Although, I make one convincing drag queen, or so I've been told," she laughed, and continued, "My real name is Quen-Yong Chan, and I came to America from China when I was 15 years old."
"Wow, that's young."
"Yeah, but it really didn't seem like that at the time. My parents never seemed too thrilled with my brother and me. You know how most parents think their kids are the eighth wonder of the world? Yeah, I was far from one of those wonders, and so was my brother. He was six years older than me, and he vowed that s soon as he could, he would get both of us out of China and away from our parents. He worked three different jobs and dropped out of high school so he could get more money and get us out of China as soon as possible. I have never seen any boy work so hard for anything. He wanted to be in America so bad, he could taste it." Queenie's eyes were glazed over while she was speaking about her brother.
"What's so bad about China?" asked Angel.
"I can tell you've never been there, sugar. It's just... I don't really even know, because there's a lot of stuff I just don't remember. I remember never being happy, though, and that's a horrible thing. Seriously, since I've been here, I don't think there's ever been a time where I just sat down and was like 'Lord, am I miserable.' So, anyway, when I was still living in China, my brother used to tutor me in English. He had friends and teachers who had helped him learn it, and he told me that he wouldn't go to America without me, and he needed me to learn English before I could go. I barely even remember Chinese, because I had English drilled into my head since I can remember. Maybe that's why I have no accent,"
"That's amazing. My mother came here from Peru, and she had the thickest accent I'd ever heard. If I didn't speak fluent Spanish, then I really wouldn't be able to understand her," Angel said, his heart aching from the memory of Mami.
"Ooh!" Queenie squealed, squeezing Angel's hand even harder, "Frederico speaks Spanish too! He's from New Mexico, but his parents spoke it at home. You'd love him! And since you're gonna be spending a whole lot of time here, you better get acquainted with him. I'll go find him, honey, you wait here." Queenie said, hugging Angel as he got up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Minutes later, a talk black man entered the room. He was very handsome, Angel had to admit, and slightly intimidating, due to his sheer size. He was HUGE. At least 6 foot 4, maybe taller. Queenie wasn't too short either, and he made her look tiny. Smiling a bright, dazzling smile down at Angel, he introduced himself. "Hey, I'm Fred," he said, his deep bass voice having a warm, friendly quality to it.
"I'm Angel."
"Well, it's nice to meet you. I see you've met my lady, Queenie," he said, hugging her tightly. "She's beautiful, isn't she?" he stated, grabbing her waist and tickling her.
"Baby.," she giggled, blushing, as Fred whispered something in her ear.
"Angel, how old are you?" Fred asked, in all seriousness, still holding tightly onto Queenie, "You're out of high school, aren't you?"
"Uh yeah," Angel replied. He felt ashamed. He'd never lied like that before.
"Good," Fred replied.
"Timmy wouldn't let anyone under 18 into the club, Freddy. You know that!" Queenie exclaimed.
"Just making sure, babe, you never know," Fred said, kissing her. "You know, Angel, when Queenie was dragging me back here, she couldn't stop talking about you. She said you reminded her of a 'mini-Queenie.' "
Angel smiled, blushing. "Thank you," he replied.
"Well, Angel babe, we need to get back to our business, but you just go straight down this hallway, all the way to the end, and the spare room is the last one on your left. You can make yourself at home dear. You've had a tough day, and I bet you could use some rest," Queenie said, smiling at him.
"Thanks. Really, I mean it," Angel told her and Fred, sincerely.
"Don't even think twice about it. Get some sleep, honey, we got a lot of shopping to do tomorrow!" she said, and hugged him one last time.
Hauling his suitcases down the hall, Angel entered the cozy room, just grateful to have a place to sleep. He changed into Lenny's big basketball jersey and flannel pants, pulled the blanket on the couch over his body, and shut off the lights, ending the day.