Chapter 19: Hustler at Work
What I saw, even from the cab of the truck, wasn’t surprising: the exchange of money for s*x. I watched them—gold-tinted images in the distance, as Hung hadn’t pulled the blinds—moving around the first floor. I saw the six-foot-two Tomas count something—bills, I knew—out into Tracy’s hand. I watched Tracy count them out again, then stuff them into his jeans pocket. Then they undressed each other, dropping their clothes around them.
I watched Tracy walk behind Hang, clamping his hand on the fireman’s shoulder. Now Tracy’s silhouette leaned down to kiss—or was it bite?—Hang’s neck. Tracy looked up again and I thought they were talking.
The hustler reached around his client’s torso in search of Hang’s erect d**k. He took the man’s extended junk in what looked
