is the home base of many major players in this city. Don’t say anything stupid. I want you to leave in one piece! I’ll handle all the talking,” Blade warned me sternly.
His comment sent a chill down my spine. As we entered the front doors, I heard the pounding of a heavy bag coming from the left. Pumph … thump … pump-thump! I turned to the left and saw couple of guys sparring in a ring—sweat beading up on their faces only to fly off in a spray when each blow connected. We walked past and continued our way up the stairs to the second floor. The upper floor was separated into two spaces by a bar counter in the middle of the room. Half of the room was devoted to a half dozen snooker tables, and the other half was a dance floor, with multiple private meeting rooms at the very end. The lights were dimmed because we had arrived during off-hours.
Blade led us to a corner of the room, where I could see the silhouette of a man seated by the window. He bowed his head in deference and respectfully addressed the man as he turned toward us. “Boss, we’re here!”
I could now make out his face with the help of the track lighting behind me. Fury was a five-foot, eleven-inch man in his late thirties who had broad shoulders and looked like he could bench press 300 pounds. He was wearing a black muscle shirt and tight jeans. I don’t quite know how to put this, but he gave off an angry and wrathful vibe—you could just feel the cloud of menace around him, and I knew immediately that he was not one to mess with.
“Welcome, boys! I’ve been hearing excellent reports from Blade about your team in Coquitlam.”
Team? I thought. Am I part of a team that I didn’t know about?
“I’m well pleased with the expansion of our territory in that area,” he continued. “Well done.”
“Thanks, boss.” Blade seemed pleased with the affirmation.
“Come on, let’s have a shot! It’s on me!” Fury snapped his fingers, and a waitress brought a half dozen shots of tequila.
As I downed the tequila and reached for a lemon wedge, I listened intently to the conversation, carefully trying to infer what exactly was going on. It seemed to me that I was in the middle of a strategy meeting of sorts. I turned to Blade and gave him a subtle “Why am I here?” look. He stared back and whispered, “Just keep your calm, everything is fine. You’re with me. We’re gonna party hard later tonight, all right? But let me deal with some business first.”
They spent another hour discussing how to recruit more members and increase membership dues. I was not in any way interested in the topic of conversation, and, probably to my own peril, I didn’t keep that fact a secret, constantly gazing out the windows.
How did I end up in this place? I thought. I didn’t think that being popular would have anything to do with ending up at a gang headquarters in Chinatown.
After their meeting was over, Fury called a troop of five guys to escort him out of the building to his vehicle, a heavily modified street-racing silver Honda. The others gave me a cue to bow my head until he disappeared down the stairs. Though I was somewhat resentful about it, I didn’t have any other choice. I bowed my head, all the while feeling extremely uncomfortable.
Then I took Blade aside. “Blade, did I miss something? Am I being forced to join this gang?”
“Well, not forced, really,” he said, “but I will need you to assist us in a few things.”
“So, I am being forced.”
“No, no, no … relax, man. Just chill out for a sec. Look, if we’re going to get access to Fury’s people and money, I’m going to need you to play along. You don’t need to go through any initiation or anything. I don’t need you to be ‘official,’ but I need you act like a member of the Cat-Walk.”
“But I’m not technically a member, right?”
“No, not technically, but if anyone asks you about it the last thing I need you to do is say you’re not one of us. Just act like you fit in, and no one will start wondering.”
While I was relieved on the one hand, I wondered what the implications of “playing along” were, exactly. Even though I was never pledged to be part of the Cat-Walk, most of the members thought that I was. Only Blade and I knew the truth, but I wasn’t sure that it made a great deal of difference. The expectations of me seemed more or less the same.
As the evening wore on, more and more people appeared on the dance floor as the lineup around the bar counter gradually grew. Blade introduced me to all kinds of people. Fortunately, there were enough girls there that I actually maxed out my phone’s memory (ahh, the flip phone) gathering their phone numbers. So I selectively deleted the old girls from my phone and put the new ones in. In those days, there was only one thing on my mind: fun. The concept of faithfulness didn’t even cross my mind. I didn’t care about hurt feelings, lies, broken promises, or betrayal. I just did what made me happy, and as long as I was happy, nothing else mattered.
In the middle of the dance floor with my new friends, I was totally revelling in the moment. The DJ was spinning hot, and laser light filled the room. The mixture of booze and the smoke coming out of the fog machine created a very sensual, almost pornographic, mood. When the high came down at the end of one party, I’d just go to the next one, seeking another high. In quiet moments, I knew I had changed. I was not the same person I once was. I didn’t care about my school, my future, or even my family. Consequently, everything except the party scene was coming apart at the seams. Problems were piling up in reality. Not willing to deal with any of them, I chose to escape. Bottle after bottle, joint after joint, Blade and the gang were taking me farther and farther away from the place where they had found me. Without thinking about responsibilities or consequences, I continue this style of living until my high school graduation.
“Do not be so deceived and misled! Evil companionships (communion, associations) corrupt and deprave good manners and morals and character.” (1 Cor. 15:33 AMPC)
Chapter 4
Just a Dream
The sun was making a cameo appearance. It always rains in Vancouver, but not on that day—the sun was shining out of a perfect cloudless blue. If you looked carefully, you’d notice that the sky right above you was a slightly darker shade than on the horizon. But it was all blue—a beautiful silky blue. It was the kind of day when Vancouverites rollerblade on the seawall or ride their bikes on the dike that protects Richmond from being submerged by seawater.
Scattered light illuminated even the dark corners of the alley we’d been ushered into, but that didn’t make it any more pleasant. It stunk of garbage and urine, and if you scanned the edges, you’d inevitably see a used syringe or some other discarded evidence of the unsavoury things that go on in dark places.
I tightened up my black bandana, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. After tossing my flimsy plastic water bottle into a dumpster, I gently tapped my cheeks to loosen my tense facial muscles. I walked towards the others, who were already positioned in front of a long two-storey wall that was years before surrendered to graffiti artists by shop owners too exasperated to repaint it yet again.
“All right. Everyone ready? Let’s roll! I need you all to look into the lens of the camera. I need attitude. Yeah, that’s right! Julian, tilt your hat to the left a little. Good! Girl, chest up, look straight. Give me that sexy look. Come on! Boz, point your finger at me. Act cool! Good. Fabulous! I’m feeling it.” The shutter went off in bursts of three or four
