Shanghai Girl (30 page)

By eleven thirty, Lotus and I have left the masquerade in a loft on West Broadway near Canal, relishing the fact how everybody at the party thought she was a Japanese babe who couldn’t speak a word of English. She played the game so well she made me feel like a real cross-cultural, crossbreeding stud! And now we are braving the cold, heading for Chelsea. I'm wearing a dark gray Burberry tweed with a bottle of 1980 Chardonnay tucked inside my pocket, stolen from the party to drink in the cab. Wrapped under Lotus’s long coat, all she wears is the kimono, my first major purchase from the Oriental Bazaar in Tokyo. Her giant, beehive hairdo is beautiful. “The hairdressers on Pell Street can do anything you want them to,” she tells me with her face muffled. “They perfected their trade in Hong Kong.”

The way Lotus looks tonight is absolutely striking, better than she did in all her Chinese wedding gowns.

We run after a couple of yellow cabs like the NYPD chasing a limo-load of armed Mafioso into nearby Little Italy, but to no avail. On foot, we head West, in the opposite direction, braving the wind from the Hudson. Suddenly, Lotus dashes off the sidewalk onto the middle of the ice-covered street, nudging a pony-tailed blonde man away from an opened taxi door. She drags me into the back seat and eases in herself.

"Twentieth and Sixth, the Limelight," she calls out to the cabdriver, whose medallion identifies him as "Andre Novitovic." The bearded Russian bear bellows into the cold air, "Get out ov my vay."

Canal Street is a blinking Christmas tree. Red-lighted trucks and yellow cabs are clawing in and out of the Holland Tunnel, bumper to bumper, stopping and going at the flick of green traffic lights. Horns and sirens pierce the frigid air. Jaywalking pedestrians drive tempers thin.

As our cab makes a left turn onto the Avenue of the Americas, a homeless man in a Knicks cap leaps out of the dark and pounds on my side of the window with a bare fist. "Happy New Year! Spare some change, please! Change!"

“Get lost!” I yell at him. Then, to the driver, "Let's get out of here!"

Lotus looks at her watch again and again. "Relax. We'll get there by midnight," I assure her.

Just one more block to go. I can already see Limelight’s steeple and the stained-glass windows with beams of light flickering from inside. I can already hear the melody of "Auld Lang Syne" in my head. In a few minutes, I'll join the nearly two thousand people there screaming "Happy New Year!" at the top of our lungs. Flowing beers and dirty dancing at the chapel will follow. If I’m lucky, I may even get to fondle Lotus, underneath her kimono, in the original church pews. Holy shit! Limelight, a former church turned nightclub. Speaking of "God is dead." Hey, it's New Year's Eve in New York City!

Then, out of the blue, hands on her stomach, Lotus whines, "Oh, no. I feel like throwing up. Could be something I ate at the party."

I let out a laugh. "Don’t blame me. Sounds to me like your honeymoon seeds have taken root. Early morning sickness for the New Year’s. Way early. Ha-ha!"

"You're so sick," Lotus chides. "This is not good." Her eyes are fixed on the front side mirror as if in a trance. Before I can stop her, she opens the taxi door, charges to the sidewalk, and bangs the door closed.

The traffic lights turn to green. The cars in front of us are beginning to move. But no sooner have I begun to wonder whether Lotus will jump back into the car than my peripheral vision notices a black car coming my way from the side at full speed ……

19 Gordon Lou: He Laughs Best

The balsam fir Christmas wreath is still hanging above the fireplace. Below, a tongue of flame continues to lick the wood. Eyes closed, palms clasped, legs crossed, I sit on the meditation mat in a perfect lotus position. Ripples of warmth accost me. My mind is blank, my body immaterial. The blaze is colorless, not crimson-like blood diluted in water.

Jun Zi Bao Chou, Shi Nian Bu Wan
– “Ten years is not late for a gentleman plotting his revenge.” New Year’s Eve still tender, and I am patient gentleman.

In this dreamy state of eternity, I hear the initial two telephone rings for which my subconscious has been waiting. Lifting my eyelids otherworldly, I see rested on the andiron an ashy jack-o’-lantern in the shape of a log. Next comes the second set of two rings. I laugh to myself.

Standing up, stretching, exhaling deeply, I reach for the Christmas wreath and throw it into the fire. Soon, the aroma of balsam fills the air. I walk to the top level and activate the button for the skylight windows. A single star shines through the vault of frosty sky. A nova for the New Year.

Later this morning, at ten, as planned, Lotus and Dong Kee will be my first guests for the New Year. I tighten the belt of my heavy terry robe and head upstairs to the bedroom. Lotus has visited here once before, but I’m certain she will pretend in front of her husband that she sees it for the very first time.

The soft light over my bedside table shadows a small blue gift bag: TIFFANY & CO. Inside lies a necklace – Lotus’s bonus for a nearly impossible job well done. Fingering the shining white satin ribbon on the signature blue box, I visualize the graduated South Seas on Sha-fei’s beautiful neck. Perhaps someday. Perhaps, not. The key, as always, is –
Ren
-- to endure and cultivate patience.

I should contact Sha-fei before our next scheduled meeting, just to make sure she doesn’t get upset when she hears about the younger Cook’s death. DellaFave’s annual fund-raising event is coming up soon, this time at the Pierre. Ted Cook is likely to be there. I’d better warn Sha-fei not to say that she dated the bastard’s offspring. A year ago, when I first went to this DellaFave bash at the Waldorf, it would not have been possible that Sha-fei would even be invited, certainly not by DellaFave. But here she is, a feisty, fledging bird ready to flutter onto his platter. So am I jealous of this chick? Sha-fei is slipping away from me like sand through my fingers. For a moment, everything feels futile, without a purpose.

I remember the Buddhist teachings. Worldly things are of little value when compared with the ultimate state of spiritual inner peace. Nirvana, the highest state of being, is the goal of a true practitioner. For me, a clumsy believer, ascending to the comfort zone of an earthly stratum is worth years of effort. All I pray is that I not be banished into the nether world of
Yin
, where the ghosts of Tao and Marlene would haunt me. As for the white devil Ed Cook himself, he paid for his deeds. It is strictly revenge. Buddha’s
Bao Ying
– the appropriate retribution. It’s His judgment, and I have a free conscience.

As I answer the door at ten on the dot, Lotus’s icy cheek touches mine. “Happy New Year, Boss.”

For a split second, I am unable to resist her. I hug her and pull her inside. “Happy New Year to you. Do come in!” Dong Kee follows her in.

Helping Lotus with her coat, I notice she’s a lot taller than usual. “I didn’t know you were still growing,” I tease her.

Glancing at her tiny booted feet and her black stockings, I imagine her undressing and look away. Lotus steps “tap, tap” in place, rubs her hands together and exclaims, “It’s nice and warm here!”

“An understatement,” corrects Dong Kee. “It’s stunning here. It’s a triplex, right, Boss Lou?”

I nod and say, “Thanks, Dong Kee. Thank you both!”

Dong Kee says immediately, “It’s our pleasure. The Chairman says anytime, Boss Lou. Just let me know.”

Lychee eyes rolling, Lotus chimes in, “It’ll be our pleasure, Boss. Seriously.”

My chin twitches when our eyes meet. I turn to Dong Kee and ask, “You already spoke to Mr. Siew?”

“Yeah. We went to pay respects to him earlier with the clan. He was quite approving.”

I nod and smile. “Give him my best, please.”

“We sure will,” says Lotus.

They follow me up my circular staircase to the second level and sit down on rattan chairs in the broad corridor leading to my bedroom. “Anything to drink?” I offer.

“I’ll take care of it, Boss,” Lotus stands up and volunteers. “Do you have Jasmine?”
“I have everything you can name,” I say with a smile.

“I’ll just make a pot of Jasmine, then.”

As Lotus walks towards the open kitchen area, I sit down and ask Dong Kee, “So how was it?”

“It was well done. And we burned the hairpiece and the kimono right away. It was a clean job. Rest assured, Boss Lou.”

“How is she?”

“She’s fine. A little shaken, but all right. Always happens when one does his first big job, but she’s already back to her normal self now. I have promised her that she will never have to get her hands on the Clan’s business again. This time she did it for you, Boss Lou.”

And for the loft, I think to myself. “Thank you, indeed. Much appreciated.”

“It’s my duty, Boss Lou. As I was saying, I’ll let Lotus retire from now on. We need to have a son soon to repay our folks, and that’ll keep her busy for a while.”

“How much does she really know about the clan?” I ask, lowering my voice.

“She knows bits and pieces from growing up around it. But, of course, women never get too involved. That’s the tradition.”

“Promise me you’re going to treat her well, young man.”

“Of course, of course. I treat her like an empress. The entire clan feels I’m a lucky man. By the way, Boss Lou, the Chairman thinks we ought to win over this new girl you brought over. She’s different from Lotus. She could do something important for us in the future.”

“Sha-fei’s too smart to be easily courted, not that I didn’t try.”

“Well, now that the white devil is history, nobody will harm your business the way it was feared. Why not sponsor her for a work visa and bring her on board?”

“She’s been looking around. Believe it or not, DellaFave has already spotted her. As far as I’m concerned, it’s best to have him provide her with an umbrella.”

“You mean we should stay in the background?”

“I have no choice at this point. It certainly won’t hurt Mr. Siew if we do.”

“I hear you, Boss Lou. We’ll keep watching the girl from a distance, but never out of our sight.”

“Perhaps that’s best for now. One more thing. Any news about Irene?”

Dong Kee throws his hands in front of him. “Sorry. Folks haven’t really been able to track her down. But we’ve definitely been looking for your ‘thousand pieces of gold’ and will continue to do so.”

“Whatever she is doing, don’t you ever dare to touch my daughter. I told you before, and I tell you again!” I warn with a closed fist.

“We know, we know. We’ll just find her and tell her you’ve got a nice loft waiting for her.”

I shake my head in disbelief. Ed Cook is dead. And I want Irene to know that. Irene! My Irene! It isn’t just for you. That man nearly destroyed me the way he had destroyed you. When it comes to my power, money and reputation, darling, I have no choice.

Lotus returns with my lacquer tea tray, three cups and saucers, and a plate of rice cakes. “I saw the package in the cabinet, Boss. Since it’s New Year’s today, I guess it’s appropriate to serve this, right?”

“Of course, by all means. I’ve forgotten about them. Thanks for bringing them out.”

As Lotus admires my red willow Canton ware, I ask, “Now tell me about your adventures.”

One hand holding the saucer, the other, the cup, Lotus delicately blows away the floating tealeaves and takes a sip. Squinting her eyes, her usual coquettish inflection is transformed into a narrative tone, one I’m unfamiliar with.

“After I got out of the cab, I walked to the corner and waved with the hair piece. Then I put on the black ski hat and waited. When Brainy’s car charged over, I closed my eyes and prayed. Simultaneously, I heard the bell from the Limelight I knew Ed was dead meat. The boys found me and picked me up. We drove past there just to make sure. The cab was bent in half. There’s no way he could’ve survived. The guy’s head had been thrust through the window on impact, pretty gruesome, if you know what I mean.” Lotus peers at Dong Kee for confirmation.

“Well, you’d had your share, watching your
Lao Dao
in his shop,” her husband says in a deadpan manner.

I remember that Lotus’ father owns a butcher shop in Chinatown.

Lotus gives a wry smile and replies, “Not quite the same. I knew the guy, you know. I was glad when it was finally over. We drove downtown before the EMS arrived.”

“I heard their siren. Did you get to see the driver?” Dong Kee asks.

“I didn’t look closely.”

“He was lying like a contortionist in the front.”

“He was a Russian immigrant, I think, perhaps an old Communist.”

To lighten the atmosphere, I add, “But the streets of New York are no Bolshoi Theater.”

“What’s that?” she asks.

Her husband rolls his eyes and volunteers, “Isn’t that’s the theater on Broadway that plays ‘Fiddler On The Roof’?”

She teases him. “Okay, Brainy. You know everything.”