Chapter 136 - As a new comer (2) (2/2)

I laugh and stand up, return the bowl to him. Then I pat my stomach and sigh, “Stomach, stomach, we can’t imagine we can stay up till the day of eat meal again!”

Middle-aged man has some doubts, looking at general feeling does not seem to pretend. He can’t help frowning: “Is it so hard to stowaway now? Nothing to eat on board?”

I shake my head: “I don’t know. But I met pirates halfway, then got on a life raft, floated for days without food.”

Speaking of this, I can’t help but think of Phoenix. Such a strange woman! I am feeling a little pain and sad in my heart.

Middle-aged man wants to ask more questions. Silo has already packed up his things and coming. He put on his jacket and trousers, also the garage uniform, but pretty clean: “Let’s go. I’ll take you to where we live.”

I follow Silo to go out, walk through the garage. I just find out that the garage is Papa 8’s private industry.

According to Silo, this is the biggest garage in Vancouver, and everyone here is “our own men”.

“Eat, wear and live, basically Papa 8 takes all these costs and we are free of charge. He’s very nice to his staff.” Silo jokes, “Your salary can be all saved! Basically, you don’t have to spend any penny. But if you want to find a woman, you have to pay for it yourself.”

After a pause, he hesitates for a moment and staring at me: “You’re new here. I can take you around. Well, there’s really nothing near here. It’s quite remote and no commercial area nearby. But if you want to look for a woman, you can go to Hestin Street, where there are prostitutes!” Looking at me. He has a bad smile on his face, “Do you want it?”

“Thank you. I don’t have such a need at the moment.” I politely refuse, and then hesitate to ask him, “Is there a convenience store near here? I want to buy some cigarettes.”

Silo immediately pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and hands it to me. I look at it. It’s a famous brand cigarette in mainland! It’s rare to see such a thing abroad!

“The cigarettes are made of mixed tobacco; we cannot get used to. This is much better. I brought it from the crew. They smuggled it here. You take it first.”

I take it from him with the smile.

When he talks about the crew, don’t know why. I immediately remember the lovely bastard, Captain Wick, who took two bags of dollars from me.

I live in the same room with Silo, in a small building on the street next to the garage.

As soon as I enter the small building, I feel a little intimate at once. Really!

It’s like dormitories in schools or factories. There are three floors, each with a long corridor and many rooms on both sides.

“The brother who used to live together in the room went to Toronto. Now the room is empty. It’s just time for you to stay together.” Silo seems to be very enthusiastic to me. I guess it’s probably because of the shocking effect of that heavy punch.

There’s nothing to say in the room, messy and dirty. There are cigarette butts in the corner, dirty underwears on the sofa. The room is not big, with two beds, a small living room outside, a few dumbbells, and a very old TV.

To my surprise, there’s an old record player here! It’s a very old-fashioned LP record player!

I look at Silo in surprise. He’s smiling and showing his white teeth, which have not been stained with nicotine: “This is mine. I like this stuff.”

I put my bag on my bed without collect. I have nothing to collect anyway. I’m interested to see Silo fiddling with his record player. I ask him: “Do you really like this? Who’s still using this nowadays?”

Silo suddenly looks a little serious. He gives me a deep look and says in a low tone: “This is the only thing my parents left me! This is my father’s. He liked it best in his life.”

“You… You escaped here, too? Or are you the local?”

“I was born here.” Silo is smiling. He’s really a handsome, tall, white man, but his eyes are somewhat melancholy, “My father came to Canada at the same time with Papa 8, but he died early.”

I’m silent. Then I say: “Sorry!”

Silo is blinking suddenly: “Want to hear something interesting?”

“Well?”

He turns on the record player, pushing the window open, adjusting and pointing the loudspeaker at the street outside the window, and turns the volume to the max!

In a few moments, the loudspeaker of the record player is letting out very vigorous and heroic music!

Then a very pleasant and full baritone begins to recite in a tone full of infinite affection.

…

I’m shocked!

It’s an antique music poem recitation record!

So, in this sunny afternoon, the music poems are resounding through this street in Vancouver.