We had been getting more orders for women’s garments lately, so I went to work earlier, around seven. But I took long breaks during the day so that I could sit or lie down somewhere to rest my back and legs.
Our factory advertised for some sewers to replace the ones we’d lost, and one evening I brought a flyer back to the house. Lili was with a client in her room, but at dinner I showed it to Huong and Nana and said I would try to help them get the jobs if they were interested.
“How much can a sewer make?” Nana asked.
“About three hundred a week,” I said.
“My, so little. Not for me.”
Huong broke in. “Does your boss use people without a work permit?”
“There’re some illegal workers at the factory. I can put in a word for you.”
“If only I could sew!”
Her words made my heart leap. I went on, “It’s not that hard to learn. There are sewing classes downtown. It takes three weeks to graduate.”
“And lots of tuition too,” added Nana.
“Not really — three or four hundred dollars,” I said.
“I still owe the Croc a big debt, or I would’ve quit selling my flesh long ago,” Huong muttered. Besides smuggling people, the man also operated gambling dens in Queens, one of which had recently got busted.
I said no more. For sure, a sewer made much less than a prostitute, but a sewer could live a respectable life. However, I could see Nana’s logic — her work here was more lucrative. Sometimes she made three hundred dollars in a single day. My housemates spent a lot of time watching TV and listening to music when they had no clients, but how long could they continue living like that? Their youth would fade someday. Then what would they do? I remained silent, unsure if I should tell Huong what I thought in Nana’s presence.
A slightly overweight white man with wavy hair came out of Lili’s room. He looked angry and muttered to himself, “Cheap Chinese stuff, fucking cheap!” Throwing a fierce glance at us, he turned and left. The women’s clients were mostly Asian, and occasionally one or two Hispanics or blacks. It was rare to see a white john here.
Lili came out of her room, sobbing. She collapsed on a chair and covered her face with her long-fingered hand. Huong put a bowl of wontons in front of her, but Lili fell back on her chair, saying, “I can’t eat now.”
“What happened?” Nana asked.
“Another condom break,” Lili said. “He got furious and said he might’ve caught some disease from me. He paid me only sixty dollars, saying I used a substandard rubber made in China.”
“Was it really Chinese?” I asked her.
“I have no clue.”
“It might be,” Huong said. “Mrs. Chen always gets stuff from Silver City.”
“But that’s a Korean store,” I said.
“I feel so awful to be Chinese here, because China always makes cheap products,” Lili said. “China has degraded its people and let me down.”
I didn’t know what to say. How could an individual blame a country for her personal trouble?
That night, I asked Huong to come out, and together we talked under the weeping cherry. The stringy branches floated in a cool breeze, while the leaves, like a swarm of arrowheads, flickered in the soft rays cast by the streetlights. Fireworks were exploding in the west, at Shea Stadium — the Mets must have won a game. I worked up my nerve and said to Huong, “Why can’t you quit this sex work so we can be together?”
Her eyes gleamed, fastened on me. “You mean you want to be my boyfriend?”
“Yes, but I also want you to stop selling yourself.”
She sighed. “I have to pay the Croc two thousand dollars a month. There’s no other way I can make that kind of money.”
“How much of your smuggling fee do you still owe him?”
“My parents paid up their fifteen percent in Vietnam, but I still have eighteen thousand to pay.”
I paused, figuring out some numbers in my head. That was a big sum, but not impossible. “I can make more than fourteen hundred a month. After the rent and everything, I’ll have about a thousand left. I can help you pay the debt if you quit your work.”
“Where can I get the other thousand every month? I’d love to be a sewer, but that doesn’t pay enough. I’ve been thinking about the job ever since you mentioned it. It would take a long time for me to get enough experience to make even three hundred a week. Meanwhile, how can I pay the Croc?” She swallowed, then continued, “I often dream of going back, but my parents won’t let me. They say that my little brother will join me here eventually. They only want me to send them more money. If only I could jump ship.”
We talked for more than an hour, trying to figure out a way. She seemed elated by my offer to help, but at moments her excitement unnerved me a little and made me wonder whether I was being rash. What if we didn’t get along? How could we conceal her past from others? Despite my uneasiness, in my mind’s eye I kept seeing her in a small white cottage stirring a pot with a large ladle while humming a song, and outside, children’s voices were rising and falling. I suggested that we speak to the Croc in person and see if there was another way of paying him. Before she went back to the house, she kissed me on the cheek and said, “Wanping, I would do anything for you. You are a good man.”
Great joy welled up in my heart, and I stayed in the damp air for a long time, dreaming of how we could start our life anew someday. If only I had more cash. I thought of asking Huong to share my bed, but decided not to, for fear that the other two women might inform Mrs. Chen of our relationship. A full moon was shining on the sleeping street, the walls and roofs bathed in the whitish light. Insects were chirring timidly, as if short of breath.
Two days later, I left work earlier, and Huong and I set out to meet with the Croc, who had sounded Cantonese on the phone. We crossed Northern Boulevard and headed for the area near I-678. His headquarters was on Thirty-second Avenue, in a large warehouse. Two prostitutes, one white and the other Hispanic, were loitering in front, wearing nothing but bras and frayed jean shorts. Both of them seemed high on something, and the white woman, who had tousled hair and a missing tooth, shouted at me, “Hey, can you spare a smoke?”
I shook my head. Huong and I hurried into the warehouse. It’s interior was filled with large boxes of textiles and shoes. We found the office in a corner. A strapping man was sprawled in a leather chair, smoking a cigar. He sat up at the sight of us and smirked. “Take a seat,” he said, pointing at a sofa.
The moment we sat down, Huong said, “This is my boyfriend, Wanping. We came to ask you a favor.”
The man nodded at me. He turned to Huong. “Okay, what can I do for you?”
“I need some extra time. Can I pay you thirteen hundred a month?”
“No way.” He smirked again, his ratlike eyes darting right and left.
“How about fifteen hundred?”
“I said no.”
“You see, I have a medical condition and have to take a different job that doesn’t pay as much.”
“That’s not my problem.” He fingered his wispy mustache.
I stepped in. “I will help her pay you, but we simply cannot come up with two thousand a month for now. Please give us an extra half year.”
“A rule is a rule. If someone breaks it with impunity, the rule will have no force anymore. We’ve never given anyone such an extension. So don’t even try to get clever with me. If you don’t pay the full amount in time, you know what we’ll do.” He jerked his thumb at Huong.
She looked at me, tears forming in her eyes. I patted her arm, signaling that we should leave. We got up and left the warehouse after saying we appreciated his meeting with us.