Chapter 8 Yakuza Nights

On Wednesday Gunner approached me after training.
“My girl has invited us to her restaurant tonight,” he began.

“Us?”

“I think her sister likes you.”

“Ah, I don’t know.”

“Come on, I came out for you on Saturday.”

Agreeing to the invitation I pulled on a tight fitting shirt that evening and followed him across town, entering a narrow lane at the bottom of the moat where we moved through a quiet neighbourhood and pulled up outside ‘The Butterfly Bar’.  It looked impressive from outside, a large patio at the front, clean cream interior.  As we entered I recognised the girls behind the mirrored bar. 

“Evening,” I started as we took our high stools.

We ordered a couple of whiskeys, watching as Gunner’s girl collected ingredients and frowned as she turned to talk with her sister. 

“I don’t know what this girl thinks,” Gunner said. “You see the way she looks?”

“Yeah, she was like that the other night, seems a bit sad about something.”

“Ah, I think it’s just Thai girls.”

As she pushed our order across the bar she pointed to an empty table.

“Can sit there.”

“So what’s the deal tonight?” I asked Gunner as we sat.

“I don’t know, they asked me to come last night, we just see what happens.”

Feeling the salsa music after a couple of drinks I stood and danced alone until the Gunner’s girl joined us.

“You hungry? My sister can cook for you.”

The menu in Thai she recommended a couple of dishes and lent across the table continuing to look miserable.  Her English poor she grunted a couple of incomprehensible sentences and I watched as Gunner attempted to translate. 

The sister depositing the order and joining us the food was delicious; curry with rice, stir fried vegetables, spicy soup.  Alternating between dishes and whiskey I turned to Gunner's girl.

“Your sister O.K?”

“Not O.K., feel sick.”

“How about tonight, you come out with us?”

“When bar close we can go Bubble.”

Her sister chirped up at the mention of Bubble, a narrow smile edging across her lips as she raised herself to sit upright.

“You go Bubble often?” I asked.

“Every night, get up afternoon, go shopping for food, restaurant open to midnight, then go Bubble.”

It didn’t sound like the most interesting life, not much different from what people did at home, only seven days a week rather than five.

“So, this your bar?”

“Yes, our father buy for us.  Before we stay in Bangkok, but she spend too much money,” the sister of Gunner’s girl said as she looked scoldingly at her sibling.

“Father give us 80,000 baht, she go out every night, buy mobile phone, all gone in three weeks, father make us move to Chiang Mai, life quiet.”

It was a different type of quiet to the one I knew, going out every night, drinking whiskey until four in the morning.  With a couple of customers lingering the girls invited us to see the kitchen, a large space with a huge worktable at the centre.  My girl opened the fridge stuffed top to bottom with fresh ingredients in neatly labelled boxes. I imagined Jamie Oliver visiting and giving an approving nod.

“Nice,” I said.

When the bar closed at midnight the girls oversaw staff pulling down the shutters and took a bottle of whiskey from the bar.

“Can ride with you?” my girl asked.

Having never carried a passenger I was a little nervous but following a shaky start I hardly noticed the extra weight.  Sitting side-saddle she looked like the queen. It was a very pretty way to sit, and for a while I’d thought girls did it because it looked so pleasant but it was the skirts.  You couldn’t saddle a bike in a skirt. 

At Bubble Gunner and I paid the entrance charge and the girls walked in for free, a waiter approaching to lead us to a table on the stage. 

“You can bring your own whiskey,” I asked as Gunner’s girl placed her bottle on the table.

“No problem, they know us here”

Feeling the pulsating rhythm I moved to dance alone, it was ecstasy, my body taken over by the music, turning to see my girl had joined me, she didn’t look too bad now; short denim mini shirt exposing slightly chunky thighs, tight t-shirt.  I hadn’t danced with a girl for a while and moving to accommodate her I began to feel uncomfortable.  Not just having to work with someone else’s rhythm but the knowledge she was a sure thing.  I wanted to be available again, pick someone out and work up my strategy.  Granted, I hadn’t done too well so far, but that was the point, trial and error until you found a system which worked. 

Moving back to the table I watched as a Westerner climbed the scaffolding and swung above out the stage. ‘Prick’ I thought, the Thai’s knew how to have a good time but they never made a show of it. 

“Arrrgggghhh!!!” I turned to see my girl wincing.

“You O.K.”

“My foot?” 

Looking down she’d taken off her shoes, a shard of glass gashing her right.  Blood oozing from the wound she spent the rest of the night frowning as she picked at it. 

In Spicy I sat back as the girls ordered and watched the tabletop vanish.  A fish steaming over a cauldron, half a dozen curry and rice dishes, an assortment of condiments.

“Eat, eat,” they encouraged waving their hands towards the food.

My appetite fuelled by whisky I tucked in looking around as guys and girls exchanged tables.  I was starting to see the familiar faces now.  Not a place backpackers tended to find it was somewhere for Chiang Mai’s more long term residents. 

An older Englishman joining us I listened as he chatted to my girl.

“How are you my dear?”

They chatted for a few minutes and when he’d left I asked her who he was.

“English teacher, stay here, urm, nearly two year now.”

There seemed to be a lot of English teachers and it was easy to see why.  A salary sufficient to keep you afloat and pay for your nights out, it was an epicurean lifestyle; sunshine, cheap living, great food.  The guy who’d been at our table had been over fifty and ‘Should have known better’ was what I’d thought.  The type of guy at home who’d be married with a family, out here still chasing girls he should have stopped looking at twenty years ago. It seemed hollow to me, sufficient for satisfying an appetite but not a life to nourish yourself on. 

Leaving at four the girls paid and Gunner's girl turned to me.

“You take my sister home?” I paused replaying the sentence, ‘Does she mean take her home or take her to my home?’ I thought.

“Your apartment far?”

“Not too far, near Chiangmai University.”

Riding back to camp with a warm breeze on my face and a girl on the back of my bike I was finally getting laid.  In the room I threw my motorcycle keys on the table and stretched on the bed.

“I take shower,” she said.

Disappearing for five minutes I listened to the splashing water.  ‘What kind of place is this,’ I thought, ‘you go out, meet a girl, dance a bit, talk but not about anything much and she comes back to sleep with you.’

Returning fully clothed I looked at her.

“You take shower?”

“Wash feet.”

Shuffling across the room she climbed on the bed and lay on my chest, holding her for a couple of minutes until she drew back and pushed her hands beneath my shirt.

“You have nice body,” she said.

Propping up on my elbows, she removed my shirt and sat back to remove her own. 

“Have many?” I said pointing to a dolphin tattoo on her hip. 

“Have four.”

I pushed my hands onto her bra and she reached behind unclipping the brace, her breasts small but pert as it fell away.  Moving towards me she bit wildly at my neck forcing me backwards as she unbuttoned my trousers.  I hadn’t been that attracted at first, but her energy was driving me crazy now.  Taking my penis in her mouth she sucked gently and pulled away with a couple of kisses.  I took a condom from beneath the pillow and handed it to her watching as she rolled it.  Rising and easing herself down on top of me the sensation was numbed but as she writhed into positions I’d never considered the tension built and I came.

Waking late the next day I lay silently tracing my finger around her dolphin tattoo.  When her phone rang she didn’t answer.

“My sister call, have to go restaurant,” she whispered with her head buried beneath the pillow.  Standing and dressing methodically, she lent over to kiss me and left.  I stared at the ceiling, the night before had been everything I’d wanted it to be, a nice girl, a good time, no ties, no attachments.  I thought about how natural it had been.  Neither of us dressed up, it wasn’t a big occasion, not like back home where I’d feel the expectation to perform, just two people sharing one another’s bodies.

Getting up in the early afternoon I knocked Gunner's door but without reply rode to Daret’s Guesthouse for lunch.  Recommended by a guy at the camp it was close to the Thapae Gate, an outdoor seating area facing the red walls of the city.  I ordered fresh fruit and watched an elderly farang tossing bread to the fish in the moat.  ‘Old people in Thailand were like old people everywhere,’ I thought, ‘at home they fed the ducks, here they fed the fish’.  The only difference being their nightly routine here revolved around girls and Viagra.

With all my training my body seemed able to cope well with alcohol and after a good meal I was feeling myself again. Strolling to my bookshop I was on the lookout for the city’s good food guide.  Swedish Karl had shown me his copy at the camp and now I wanted my own to aid my exploring, entering as the doorbell chimed I approached a Westerner sat at his computer.

“Hi, you have Chiangmai’s Good Food Guide?”

He looked over his glasses, silently pointing to a table.  I recognised the roll of sushi hugging a sprig of asparagus on its cover.  Paying and relocating to ‘Eat Me’ I perused over coffee and cake.  Listings for more than two hundred restaurants Chiang Mai had amazed me with its choice of eating venues.  Every cuisine available somewhere, cheap Thai snacks on every corner.  Flicking to the bakery section I looked for breakfast recommendations and stopped at ‘Bake & Bite’ - ‘A homely café offering fresh breads, bagels and delicious breakfasts’ it said.  I made a mental note to add it to the next weeks schedule and returned to the guesthouse to find Gunner in his room.

“Hey buddy, how was your night?” I asked.

“Ah sabi, sabi.”

“What?”

“So, so, she wasn’t very happy, but I don’t know why?”

“Her English still not hot? Man, my girl. I was a bit sceptical at first but wow, did she know how to have a good time.”

“Maybe I choose the wrong sister,” he said looking mournful.

Moving into my fifth week my fitness had reached a point I’d never been to.  No longer tired after running I found myself able to sustain a good hour and a half beating bags and working with the trainers.  I could do ten over arm chin ups, a hundred consecutive sit ups and over fifty press ups.  Feeling brave on Tuesday I stripped off my shirt and stood in front of the mirror.  It was getting better, I still had a slightly flabby stomach but the shadows were picking up the beginnings of a six pack.  That’s when I made the decision; I wanted to see it, six neat panels in the fender.  I’d have to cut out the cakes at Eat Me, try to eat less fried food but I had to have it, the ultimate perfection, a line running from chest to abdomen, stomach sliced into six even slabs.

Pounding the bags on Thursday the trainer Nuk waved me to the ring for a session of sparring.  At fifty two he still preserved a fantastic shape; legs like tree trunks, a thick muscled torso.  I’d been told he’d carried the name of ‘The Chiang Mai Dragon’ in his fighting days.  When China had sent five of its best Kung Fu practitioners to Bangkok he’d been chosen to fight, KO’ing his opponent in the first round. I was up against Lutia from London that day.  She’d told me she’d been a sculptor in England, coming to Thailand to gain inspiration for her next project.  A few females training at the camp she was the toughest, six days a week, twice a day, she gave everything. Andy seemed to give her a lot of attention, something of a father daughter relationship. I had no problem fighting a girl, we both knew the score, I wouldn’t hit her breasts but other than that she was fair game.

As we began she bounced menacingly in front of me, a single hair dancing over a fairly pretty face.  Jabbing me a couple of times I responded with a combination and caught her with a right.  Looking over my gloves I nodded and she motioned to continue.  She was an aggressive beast, grunting from beneath her mouth guard, wailing in with flailing arms.  I didn’t think much of her technique and the power was less than I’d anticipated but she was determined.  Near the end of the first I delivered a double left, right combination watching as she stepped back squinting, blood beginning to stream from her nose. 

“You O.K.?”

“Fine,” she said drawing a glove across her lip and smearing red across her cheek. I stayed away until the bell rang, watching as red lines splattered the canvas.

“You want to stop?”

“I’m fine.”

She looked quite good really, Lycra shorts, a sports bra covered by a training vest.  Like a girl who’d stayed the night and borrowed your clothes to make a visit to the kitchen.  Resetting for the second round I didn’t want her blood on me and decided to practice working the body.  Aiming below the breast line I began with a couple of left hooks and threw a straight right to her abdomen pleased as she caught her breath and came back mad as a bull.  Another right to stomach and she paused again.  It was the perfect shot, a shot that kept the opponent at bay and sapped their strength.  As the round closed I called it to an end.

“You O.K.?” I asked.

“Yeah good,” she said spitting a line of bile over the ropes.

“Sorry about the nose.”

Leaving the ring I made my way to the bench and sat recovering.  It was hard in the gym, not the physical side but my plan being a secret.  Everyone else there for Muay Thai, I felt a gap between us, the only one there who didn’t want to box. I’d tried to cut the boxing out in a couple of sessions, concentrate on the running and my Legion exercises but I always felt better when I did it.  The momentum in the gym turning me into a fighter I had no desire to be. ‘Should I fight?’ I wondered. 

Running the next day similar thoughts returned.  Bobbing along with the crowd they were all running towards the ring and I vaguely remembered a Muay Thai fight being on my list of things to do before I died.  I’d probably get banged up, need a week to recover, but I’d still make it to The Legion. 

That afternoon I went see Andy.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he greeted me.

“Yeah, the diarrhea’s all behind me, feeling pretty good.”

I took a moment to choose my words.  Fighting a serious business in the camp once you’d uttered the words ‘I want to fight’ there was no going back.  I opted for the roundabout approach.

“I was just wondering, if I was going to fight, what kind of preparation would I need?”

He removed his glasses and fixed me with a stare, “Fighting huh, If you’re gonna fight there’s only one thing I ask,’ he said with a dramatic pause ‘You give it your best shot.  Whether you can fight or not, nobody knows, the only time we’ll know that’s after your first fight.”

I looked around the room and returned to his stare.

“So, if I was going to fight, how long do I need to prepare?”

“Usually it takes about eight weeks.  Train twice a day, get in the ring with the trainers, but you’ve really got to want it in here,” he said thumping a fist against his chest. “If you decide you want to do it, we can fix something.” 

Returning to the gym that afternoon I thought about what he’d said ‘You’ve really got to want it in here’.  If I made the commitment that was it and in that moment I knew I didn’t.  I hadn’t come to fight, I’d seen what it was about but fighting wasn’t what I wanted.  Working my way through the routine I gave my all on the run but decided to cut down in the Muay Thai finishing early to complete my Legion exercises.  In the ring I watched the German Basil lying to receive a massage.  He was making his debut that night and I wanted to see him.  Not because we were friendly, I wanted to see him because I thought he’d lose.

In terms of a physical specimen he looked immaculate, a former gymnast he had the biggest figure in the camp but there were a few things that told me he wouldn’t make it as a fighter.  He was a hard trainer and whenever I’d heard him talk he’d discussed nothing but fighting but he’d never fought.  When I’d watched him in the ring he’d looked slow and in sparring I’d seen him grimace.  It all added up to someone who didn’t quite have it.  Sitting at the stadium that night Gunner told me the girls would meet us at Bubble.  Basil’s moment coming at close to eleven, he looked the part, dressed in the camp robe with banner around his head I thought of Jean Claude Van Damme in Kickboxer.  His opponent looked disappointing, an old ringer in his early forties, plump around the middle he probably spent his days driving a tuk-tuk.  Guys at the camp told me opponents like him didn’t even train before their bouts, relying on experience to carry them through.

Andy on the other side of the ropes the two touched heads, Andy relaying a prayer.  I looked at the tourists around the ring, whispers of excitement passing through the crowd.  When the bell rang Basil cautiously edged to the centre.  I didn’t know quite what to expect, if it had been myself I imagined I’d have launched straight in making my opponent at least think he was in for a fight.  I counted a minute before Basil made his first move, a missed kick which sent him stumbling forward and awkwardly retreating as the Thai prepared to retaliate. 

The home man had been there a thousand times before, another farang coming to Thailand thinking he could box.  Then slap, he moved in with a low kick to the back of the knee, Basil wincing and hobbling backwards.  I’d noticed the Thai’s never showed when they were hurt, even if they ended up conceding a bout, you never knew until a hand was in the air.  The Thai knew he had him then, the rest of the round Basil continuing to miss as the Thai repeated contact with the back of his leg.

Sitting in the corner before the second Basil still looked determined, but that was as far as it went.  As if he knew exactly what he wanted to do but his body was refusing to carry out orders.  In the second he continued to miss and the Thai continued to land, then, ‘crack’, he was on the canvas.  I missed whatever had happened, the guys from the camp attempting to rally Basil to his feet as Swedish Karl rewound his camera. 

“Fuck, got him right in the head,” he said.

I peered forward as he played it again.  The Thai, who’d looked like he’d struggle to get out of bed in the morning, had delivered a perfect round kick to the jaw.  I thought about what I’d seen.  Like a golfer picking out a perfect shot and boom it was all over.  The Thai hadn’t broken a sweat and there at his feet the tectonic German who’d spent the last five months doing nothing but train.

Following the crowds from the door we picked up our bikes and took a recommendation from Danish Thomas for a pre-Bubble drink at The Riverside.  A short ride from the stadium it was a beautiful wooden bar, the Thai band belting out Western rock as the Ping River meandered by.

“This has to be the life,” I said as Gunner stood smiling and tapping his heal beside me.

“A good life for a short time,” he replied.

“A good life for a long time,” I responded.

“Yeah, O.K., now we’re on holiday, we do Muay Thai and at night we can go out but you cannot do this forever.”

He was right in a sense, we couldn’t do it forever, I had enough cash to last me a few more months but after that the party would be over.  I’d been thinking for a while about making my move to Asia permanent but the only job I saw people doing was teaching and teaching didn’t cut it for me. 

An hour later we made our way to Bubble meeting the girls and dancing until 2.00 when they took us to a restaurant on the moat. I’d noticed it regularly as I wound into town, a place for eating, dozens of tables set on different levels, a huge T.V. belting out the night's football.  The girls leading us to a table at the back I took a seat next to Gunner, the girls sitting opposite. 

“Good night Gun, you hungry?”

He tipped his hand from side to side indicating mediocre appetite. His girl burying her head in the menu as mine smiled at me across the table.  She wasn’t perfect, but I’d taken her on as an easy introduction to Thai girls and she hadn’t disappointed.

“You O.K.?” I asked her.

She smiled playfully and turned to talk with her sister.

“So, what’s the deal with these girls?” I said.

“Their mother’s Thai, the father Japanese, my girl told me he bought the bar to keep them out of trouble.”

As we chewed on that for a moment we were joined by a couple of Thai guys.  The girls ignoring them they sat either side of us.  I turned to Gunner with a ‘Who the fuck are these guys?’ look. 

“Bodyguards.”

“Bodyguards? What do you mean bodyguards?”

“Their dad’s Japanese, these guys are employed to take care of the them.”

“Get out of here.”

“Didn’t you notice the car following us when we left Bubble?”

“You’re kidding?”

He shook his head.

“They’ve got a new Honda saloon, they go everywhere with them.”

“So, you’re telling me if I take my girl home tonight one of these guys is going to follow me home?”

“I don’t know, that’s what they told me.”

I gave the two goons a second look, one short and heavily built, lower arms covered in tattoos the other lanky and slight with designer glasses.  It seemed plausible but somehow unbelievable.  We dated these two chicks with bodyguards and a bar paid for by a Yakuza boss.

A large platter arriving at the table, a fish bubbled in spicy looking sauce.  A number of other dishes completing the feast the girls intimated for us to dig in.

“Who’s paying for all this?”

“Don’t worry, the girls will take care of it, it’s what they do.”

Something didn’t stack up, they didn’t appear too well educated, they were stuck alone running a bar in Chiang Mai and yet a small fortune was being spent to sustain their lifestyle. 

“What’s the score? You really believe this whole story? I mean, the guy with the tatts looks pretty tough, I could believe he’s a gangster but what about the other guy he looks more like a writer.”

With his specs and lanky frame he didn’t look like he’d offer much protection but perhaps he was the finesse, the cold blooded assassin who’d gut you like a fish.  As I turned to look at him he smiled me a toothy grin.

Taking my girl to my room that night the car hadn’t followed.  She sat on the bed staring at the wall for a minute and turned to look at me. 

“You like me?” she asked.

“Yes, of course I like you.”

“I think you butterfly.”

“What?”

“Butterfly, in Thailand we say man who have many girl is butterfly.”

For the next twenty minutes we batted back and fourth as she quizzed me about where I’d been all week.  That was when I knew I didn’t want her, it was a little company, a little sex, but if she wanted something more she’d have to find someone new.  By the time we made love I’d lost my appetite, going through the motions and sleeping heavily.  When she left in the morning I assured her things were still fine and slipped down the corridor to see Gunner.  He’d had another difficult night, his girl in a dark mood, hardly able to string a sentence together in English.

“So, what do we do? You want to see them again or shall we let them go?”

We agreed to move on.