walked outside as the sun was going down, a red globe in the distant horizon, painting the surrounding clouds pink and purple. The hostel was close to the business district and he walked the streets, stopping every once in awhile in some alley or doorway to smoke.
He walked past a large glass and chrome hotel, golden lights shooting out from the front and giving it a sun- colored hue. Tourists in shorts and cotton shirts poured in and out, a few eating at the restaurant on top of the hotel’s roof, laughing and drinking. The sidewalks were as packed as the roads and people bumped into him every couple seconds, though he didn’t notice.
As darkness fell he walked to a public park across the street from a large stadium where Muay Thai fights were held and he could hear the roar of the crowd and the twangy high-pitched music that accompanied the fights. The park was essentially one large circle with a pond in its center. Just off center, a few dozen feet from the playground, were benches. They were covered with youth from all over the world who’d come to Thailand in search of something that they would never find.
There were at least fifty people at the park, smoking pot and getting drunk. Most of them were Americans who’d come over expecting the easy money and low cost of living that a tourist based economy could sometimes provide, only to find that the Thai people reserved the good jobs for other Thais.
Eric walked to a small group of about ten, no one noticing him. Some of the kids were rambling on about stories that may or may not have happened, meth in their veins robbing them of sleep for five or six days at a time. Seated on a bench, not really speaking with anyone, was a slim American boy with long brown hair pulled into a ponytail. He was smoking and staring with green, savage eyes at the people before him.
Eric sat next to him. “I need more H, Ray.”
Ray blew smoke out of his nostrils and looked over to him, a large metal piercing through the bridge of his nose. “How much you need?” “Just a dime bag.” “That’s all?” “I don’t have any more money,” Eric said, nearly nodding off, his eyes half-closed.
Ray reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vile of cocaine. He laid a line out on a small mirror and handed that and a Thai baht-the equivalent of a dollar bill- to Eric. Eric rolled up the baht and snorted the coke, his senses awakening and being overtaken with a general jitteriness.
“I got a way you can make money,” Ray said.
“No,” Eric said. He’d been approached by Ray several times before about prostituting himself, young American boys being highly prized. “Not that,” Ray said before snorting a line. “We’re takin’ down a bank. You in?” “How much?” “There’ll be three of us, so three ways.”
The coke made him antsy and he couldn’t think clearly, but Eric knew he had to do something. His money would be gone and the H would be gone. Though she was a whore, he’d come to rely on Lily for companionship. He knew she only came around because he gave her money and drugs, but at night, even her icy embrace was better than sleeping alone. Once the money and H were gone, she would be too. “When?” Eric said. “Tomorrow.” “Okay.”
Ray put the coke away and stood up. He motioned to a young Thai boy with a shaved head. Eric had seen him around before; his name was Dak and he’d been a Thai fighter until he did some time in prison. Now, he was just a junkie like everyone else here.
“Eric’s coming,” Ray said, “go find a car for tomorrow night.”
CHAPTER
21
Eric sat with Ray awhile longer, talking about women they’ve had since coming to Thailand and the places to score the best drugs. Eric eventually grew bored and stood up to leave. Ray didn’t say anything; there were no hellos or good-byes in this place.
The coke had given him a second wind and Eric was starting to feel good. He became acutely aware that he hadn’t eaten today and his stomach was starting to growl. Across the street from the park was a little food mart, set up outdoors on the corner with stools in front of a large bar. Eric walked to it and sat down on a stool at the end of the bar.
The owner was a small Thai man probably in his mid-sixties wearing a New York Yankees baseball cap. He walked over and said something in Thai. “English?” Eric said. “Yes,” the man said. “Rice and chicken with a beer, a Tsing Tao if you have it.”
The man nodded and began preparing the meal. The rice came out of a large container on the ground and the chicken was fried on the spot with green peppers, peanut sauce and onions. The man popped open a Tsing Tao and placed everything in front of Eric.
He put some cash on the counter and started eating. The food was all right. The problem with Thai food was that it was so spicy it covered up any foul tastes. It was difficult to tell if the meat you ate was fresh or a week old.
When he finished, he leaned his elbows on the bar and took out a package of cigarettes, lighting one and blowing the smoke through his nose. The man next to him noticed and turned to him.
“Can I have one of those?” the man said. He was an American, older. Wearing a green army jacket and glasses. His face appeared worn out and wrinkled, like it’d been through a washer.
“Sure,” Eric said, pulling one out of the package and handing it to him.
The man had his own lighter and he lit it and leaned forward against the bar, the cigarette held loosely between his fingers. “Thanks.” “No problem.” “What’s your name?” “Eric.” “I’m Bill, nice to meet you.” “Yeah.” “Where you from Eric?” “Los Angeles,” Eric said.
“LA huh? I hate that damn city,” he chuckled, “though this ain’t much better.” He inhaled deeply and let the gray smoke trickle out of his mouth. “You been back to the States lately?” “Not for a while.” “Me neither. Too much shit there. Christians and atheists got the whole country fucked up if ya ask me.” Eric looked over to him. “You were in the army?” “I was. 101st Airborne.” “Oh yeah?” “Yeah. You remember everything happened in Little Rock, don’t ya?” “Not really.”
“First integrated school. We was there. Most disgusting thing I ever saw. Them negroes were just little girls man, just kids. The crowds was throwin’ bottles at ‘em, they had this black doll strung up on tree… it was disgustin’. I ain’t never seen people treated that way.” He took a long pull off the cigarette and had a sip of the beer in front of him. “Until I came here anyway.” “Why’d you come here?” “Good place to run away I guess. Why’d you come here?” “Same.” “You gotta be careful though. Places like this, they’ll eat up your soul if you let ‘em.” “How long have you been here?” “Oh, ten years or so. I was in Vietnam before this, and Peru before that.” “You just travel around?”
“I wouldn’t call it travel. Travel means I got a home. I ain’t got no home. I just go wherever I can be alone for a time.” He finished the cigarette and put it out in a glass ashtray in front of him. “I’m headin’ out to The Bayou, you been?” “No.” “It’s a bar. Nothin’ special, but it’s where old vets like me hang out sometimes. You wanna go?” Eric polished off his beer. “Sure, I got nowhere else to go.”
Bill led Eric through the busy sidewalk crowds and down an alleyway. They came out onto another street, this one with less traffic and dimly lit. They walked three blocks before turning into another alley and coming out onto another street. Before long, they made their way past what Eric guessed was a ghetto.
The building didn’t look like the ones downtown. There were no glimmering lights or golden spirals. There was only chipping concrete and wood patched with rubber or plastic. Children were running around everywhere and most of them didn’t have shoes. One boy, slim and without a shirt, approached them as they walked by.
“You come,” the boy said as he grabbed Bill’s arm and tried to lead him away. “Good yum yum. You come.”
“No,” Bill said sternly, and pulled away. The boy let go and turned to wait for the next tourists that walked by. “They’re scouts,” Bill said to Eric. “They work for pimps and got young girls in them apartments right there.
