Timothy Hallinan - The Queen of Patpong

"Want to?"

"More money. But not enough more. Okay, we're here. Come on." And beneath a red-and-white sign that says CANDY CANE BAR, she turns in. Two girls in Santa hats and schoolgirl outfits, but with very short skirts that barely cover the bottoms of their panties, squeal at Nana and hug her as though they haven't seen her in a year, and then they turn to Kwan and their eyes go flat, like someone looking at an abacus and thinking about a number.

"New?" one of them says.

"We'll see," Nana says, and one of the overage schoolgirls does a final appraisal of Kwan that makes her feel like she's being checked for dents and scratches, then pulls aside a cloth hanging over the door. A wall of cold air rolls over Kwan, and then there's a shove in the center of her back, and she's inside.

The music is so loud she wants to put her fingers in her ears, but she almost stops hearing it as she looks around the room. It's long and narrow, with colored lights flashing on and off all over the ceiling. Men are packed onto benches along the walls, and more men perch on uncomfortable-looking stools at a bar that goes around the stage. In the narrow space between the bar and the edge of the stage, women busily mix and pour drinks, but Kwan barely sees them.

What she sees are the dancing girls.

There are twenty or more, two lines of them, back-to-back so that one line faces each wall. They wear knee-high boots in red-and-white, diagonally striped leather or plastic and very, very short red pants that are cut so far below the navel that Kwan thinks some of them must be shaving down there. Above the shorts is a red-and-white-striped halter top, just big enough to cover the breasts, with a single big button in the center. Some of the girls have their tops unbuttoned, but there's a string or a little chain connecting the two halves so the top doesn't fall all the way open. Eight or ten metal poles, evenly spaced, sprout at intervals around the stage, and the girls tend to congregate around these, hanging on to one or wrapping a lazy elbow around it as they do whatever dance steps come to them, although mostly they just shuffle from foot to foot. Only one pole is the exclusive property of a single dancer, and that's the pole closest to the door. Most of the women look beautiful to Kwan, but the girl dancing all alone there is the single most beautiful human being Kwan has ever seen in her life: hair to midback, perfect legs, a plump and sullen mouth, skin that shines as though it's been dusted with pearl, and enormous, slightly tilted eyes of a peculiar, dark-golden color.

Some of the women are checking out the men, picking one here and there from the crowd and smiling at him, moving on if there's no response. A few watch themselves in the mirrored walls as though they've never seen their reflections before. Others stare at their own feet or carry on conversations with the girls nearest them.

Partway down the line, one of the dancers spots Kwan and does a double take, then grabs the arm of the girl next to her and twists her toward Kwan. That girl nudges the girl next to her, and gradually the ripple works its way the full length of the stage, and all the girls are staring at Kwan, and then one of them starts to laugh. She lets go of the pole and lifts one hand way above her head, going on tiptoe and even jumping a few inches, then bends forward, laughing, and then most of them are laughing as Kwan stands there, her face burning. But the girl alone at the front pole doesn't laugh, doesn't even look at Kwan.

She just keeps her eyes on the cloth hanging over the door. THE REST of the evening is a series of disconnected moments. A severe-looking, slump-shouldered woman in her fifties, aggressively plain-faced, her hair pulled back so tightly it looks like it must hurt, bustles up, people stepping out of her way as she comes, and leans back to look at Kwan. She does something with her mouth that looks as if she's sucking her teeth and says a few words that Kwan can't hear over the music. Nana shakes her head and then circles Kwan's face with her hand, brushing fingertips over her cheekbones and jawline as though she has a powder puff in her hand, then uses her index and middle fingers to make snipping motions around Kwan's hair.

A couple of the girls on the stage imitate the snipping, and one of them pretends she's got an ax and is chopping Kwan down. Girls clap their hands once or twice and laugh. The beautiful girl in front pays no attention to any of it.

The severe-looking woman stares up at Kwan for a long minute or two and then shrugs some sort of acceptance. Nana taps Kwan's arm as though to say, Stay here, and she and the severe-looking woman disappear into the rear of the bar. Kwan stands there, using every fiber of her will to keep from bursting into tears. She presses her back against the wall, holding her arms tightly at her sides, taking up as little space as possible, trying to be invisible. But she can feel eyes on her, and not just the girls'. Around the room men have turned to regard her. Some of them have girls sitting beside them, and those girls tug at the men's arms and toss sharp-edged glances at Kwan, not the glances of people who are eager to be friends. Kwan looks down at the floor.

A chubby girl in the stage uniform of boots and shorts goes out of her way to bang into Kwan, hard, with her shoulder and says, "Oh, excuse me," and some of the girls on the stage start laughing again.

The room seems to shimmer and lose its focus, and Kwan is back at school, facing yet another bully eager to humiliate the tall girl. She knows she has to bring this to an immediate stop, no matter what Nana would say. She steps away from the wall and says, "You did that on purpose."

The chubby girl puts her hands on her hips and says, "Really?"

Kwan brings up one hand, fingers curled and nails pointing directly at the girl's eyes. "Do it again and you'll have bandages all over your fat face."

The girl in the boots backs up a quick step, and the laughter on the stage stops. Kwan looks up and sees every woman onstage staring at her. Some look surprised, some look amused. A few seem angry. The beautiful girl, the one dancing alone right in front of her, turns the enormous golden eyes to Kwan and gives her the smallest smile Kwan has ever seen, more the idea of a smile than the thing itself. Then she returns her attention to the cloth hanging over the door.

A moment later Nana and the mama-san are back. Nana has an envelope in her hand, which she tucks behind her when she sees Kwan looking at it. Trailing after them is a short, cute girl dressed for the stage. "You're set," Nana says. "You'll start serving drinks tonight. Fon here"-she indicates the cute girl, who has a face like a child's doll, with plump cheeks and a tiny nose-"Fon will take care of you. Just do what she tells you to."

"But you- I mean, where are you going?"

"My bar." She glances at her wrist and remembers she's no longer wearing the watch, so she lifts Kwan's wrist and peers at it. "I've got to get to work."

"You said I'd be in your bar. When we were talking, you told me-"

"I don't think so," Nana says. "I'm at the King's Castle. Nobody starts out at the King's Castle. Only the best girls work there."

"But you said-"

"We're on the same street, that's what I said. Got to go. Listen to Fon, okay? Glad you're here." She reaches up and pats Kwan on the cheek. "We'll eat dinner together sometime." Nana turns away from Kwan and obviously remembers the envelope she's hiding behind her, because she shoves it into the waistband of her skirt. She pushes aside the curtain over the doorway and is taken by the current of the sidewalk. A second later she has disappeared. The curtain flaps closed.

"What are you waiting for?" Fon says, and Kwan turns, but Fon is talking to the plump girl who bumped her. "Go find a lap. Drool on somebody. Do whatever you want, but do it somewhere else."