★ Leonard ★
The truck drives through Monterey, Santa Cruz, San Jose, Palo Alto, and San Mateo. It becomes obvious that San Francisco is my destination. The streets get crowded when the car approaches the center of the town. I have no idea which part of the city attracts me.
Do I know anything about San Francisco? The names I am familiar with are Fisherman's Wharf, the Golden Gate Bridge, and Chinatown. It has been almost three hours driving my truck, and I'm hungry. So I decided to go to Chinatown for a nice Chinese dinner.
After parking my truck on the street close to the Dragon's Gate, I walk up a few blocks to find a good place for a nice meal. I pass many restaurants along the way. At Waverley Place, a seedy restaurant attracts my eyes, but it seems to be quite authentic.
Right at the entrance through a dirty window, an old Chinese man is chopping off the neck of a grilled duck. That will probably be my dish for this evening. When I walk into the restaurant, several men sit at the table, and all of them are Chinese. They look as seedy as the restaurant itself.
I quietly sit down at a small table covered in red linoleum. Some of the guys keep looking at me, but I pretend not to notice their stares. An old lady, who might be the chef's wife, comes to me to take an order. I point at the menu to let her know what I would like to eat.
After writing my order down on a yellow sheet, she screams my order to the chef in Chinese and goes back to the counter where two young men are sitting and drinking some liquor.
One of them slowly walks in my direction and sits down in front of me. I can see that he is part of a Chinese gang. They always have that particular look, and he has cigarette burns on his arm. He is someone I shouldn't mess with.
"I haven't seen you around here," he starts, "Are you new in town, my friend?"
I am cautious with my response.
"No, I just got here this evening."
He continues, "Are you a tourist, or did you move here?"
I don't know where he is going with it, but I carefully choose my words.
"I don't know yet. I might leave tomorrow or might stay for a while. It all depends on what the city will offer me."
He looks at me and tilts his head with a grin on his face.
"Is that right? You seem like a nice guy. I will present a tempting offer for you to stay in town for a while. Do you want to earn two hundred bucks every night?"
He shows me a handful of hundred dollar bills. The job is probably drug trafficking. So I tell him right away.
"Sorry, I am not into drugs!"
He stops me there.
"We don't deal with drugs. It's much safer. A man just quit on me today. I am looking for a chauffeur who can bring my girls to different locations and collect cash along the way. We do business with a luxury escort service in town."
"Your white face and tall stature would really help our image because most of our clients are rich white males who come to San Francisco for business and want to try some sweet, exotic Asian mangos. Do you know what I mean?"
He grins again.
I finally get why he is sitting in front of me. Do I really want to get involved with Chinese gangs? Not really! While I was thinking about how to turn down his offer, three girls walk into the restaurant. Apparently, they are his escort girls. One of the Chinese girls salutes him.
"Hi, Liu! We are hungry! Let us have something to eat before going to work!"
He tells them to order whatever they want from the menu. My eyes stop on one girl, and she is obviously not Asian. She has a dark chocolate complexion that feels more Middle Eastern than African American.
Her eyes are large yet slanted at the end. Her striking beauty evokes indescribable sexual desire in me. I am almost mesmerized by her. She is looking at me from the table where the three of them sit. I try not to pay attention to her and to concentrate on Liu's offer. I suddenly change my mind and ask him.
"You know what! I have never done this job before. Can I try for one night and see if I am cut out for it?"
He grins again and continues.
"Now you are talking. That's fine. You try one night, my friend! By the way, you know how to use a gun, right?"
I assure him.
"Don't worry! I was born and raised in Texas."
He hands over a handgun and explains my job in detail. At the end of our conversation, he makes sure I understood him.
"If you cheat on me, you will be hanged dead from the Golden Gate Bridge."
He laughs out loud.
I became a pimp in San Francisco because of this dark-skinned beauty.
YOU ARE READING
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