The windows of the SUV were so heavily tinted that one wondered whether the vehicle wasn’t bulletproof as well. Ricky jumped out of the driver’s seat and swiftly opened the back door. From the backseat two figures in oversized hoodies scrambled inside the building as Ricky looked around to check whether they had been followed. The junkie had proven his worth, he thought. He then rushed inside and caught up with the duo, ushering them inside his apartment.
‘Thanks Ricky,’ Mateo mumbled through a sigh. He looked completely out of sorts, but didn’t appear to be carrying any injuries. At least his limbs are still intact, thought Ricky. He went to the kitchen and got the two men some tea.
‘This is Luong,’ Mateo continued as he pointed to the Vietnamese boy standing to his right.
Luong was a handsome Vietnamese guy. There was a rugged handsomeness and his face had strong features coloured with pent up sorrow and anger channeled at the injustice that befell him from the day he set foot on British soil.
‘Again, thanks amigo. They probably catch us if you don’t come get us,’ Mateo said.
‘Don’t worry, I’m happy to help,’ Ricky replied.
‘We can’t talk to police. The problem is me but also Luong. He will be...be…how you say--’
‘Deported?’
‘Yes. He send back to Vietnam.’
‘How did he enter in the first place?’
‘I enter as political refugee,’ Luong intervened. He had an accent, but his voice was firm and he enunciated each word with purpose. ‘My boss give me fake papers in Vietnam. In plane we flush them in toilet. Master tell me what to say at immigration. I say I was tortured by Vietnam government. I say I protest communism.’
‘And you were let in.’
‘They question me at airport. But I keep story. They cannot do anything so they let me in.’
‘How long have you worked at the nail salon?’
‘Many years. I did all kind of work. Everything. Nail salon is only name. Behind it we do everything else.’
‘Such as what?’
‘Drugs. Crack and skunk. Boss has factories outside London. They grow very large,’ Luong stretched both his arms to the side to underline the operational scale. ‘I help with the work there and at nail salon. It is selling point to other gangs, rich buyers, and dealers.’
‘How did you meet Mateo?’
At this Luong turned to look at his lover. Mateo nodded for him to continue.
‘Tran...he is not worker. He is boss’s nephew. All workers hate him but I am friend. Tran sells drugs to Mateo. Then he bring Mateo to underground. I work there because boss say my debt is bigger with interest.’
Ricky listened attentively as Mateo and Luong gave him the gist of their affair. Their first encounter took place at the beginning of the season. Mateo felt guilty about going back the second time, but he was lonely and powerless to battle against the uproar in his loins. And after the second tryst - whereupon he released all his bottled-up libido in one triumphant go - he was hooked.
Given Mateo’s schedule and high profile, Luong did not see Mateo very often. Usually Mateo tried to visit once every three or four weeks, but there was a time when he went two months without getting his nails done. During these intervals Luong found himself perking his ears up every time he heard distant footsteps of an approaching customer. He was smitten by the Spaniard and treasured their post-coital dialogues that granted Luong the affection and tenderness he too had been missing for so long on these foreign shores.
Luong was unaware of Mateo’s identity. The illegal immigrant had no smartphone of his own, and was given only a day’s rest every three months. Even that break was monitored, and he could not leave the neighbourhood. The only other case where he left his quarters was to assist transportation of his master’s skunk cannabis and crack cocaine. To Luong, the latino client was simply a charming hunk who was extravagant with his money, booking Luong’s services for entire days even if he ended up checking his watch and rushing out midway. Luong, too, preferred it that way.
But gradually Luong became more than just an outlet for Mateo. Mateo began to forge an emotional bond with his physical partner, and although both were wanting in their command of the English language, they were aided by their finesse in the physical one, and the millionaire footballer soon found himself trying to get away to north London every time his calendar was empty.
Too much of anything can cause problems, however. Despite Mateo’s best efforts to cover his face, each trek up north increased the chances for his exposure. And one day in April, moments after Mateo had left, a couple of the boss’s henchmen stormed into Luong’s servicing room and interrogated him. One of the younger gang members had recognised Mateo and now they wanted to blackmail him.
Luong was beaten and whipped - they made sure to preserve his face so he could still carry on with work - but he divulged nothing about his lover. At first they believed Luong when he told them Mateo didn’t speak much English. But then the thug who identified Mateo looked up Mateo’s interviews on Youtube, and they lashed Mateo’s soles with pool cues until he couldn’t walk.
Incidentally Mateo did not return for a while, and the gang placed a camera inside Luong’s room and the underground corridor with increased lighting so that the next time Mateo visited they would have watertight evidence to blackmail him with. The gang also threatened to break Luong’s bones and turn him into a drug addict if he botched their plan.
Since there was no way Luong could reach Mateo, he secretly requested Tran, a mindless junkie who could always be bought off, for help. Luong forked over the four thousand quid he’d scrimped and saved secretly and in return Tran let him out in addition to providing him with tickets to the London game of three days ago.
The pitch invasion served its purpose. Inside the few seconds they had before the guards dragged him away Luong told Mateo not to come back because they knew who he was. Mateo then bribed Tran to help him break Luong out of Lady Paint, and after nightfall on Monday Mateo was reunited with Luong.