Incensed (11 page)

And I was very good at holding my tongue. In fact, I had a hidden agenda for our little visit to Taipei 101. On my way to breakfast, I had messaged my old classmate Peggy Lee, who worked for her family. I asked her if she would take on my little niece as an intern as a favor to me.

Peggy and I had gone to high school together, although we were never really friends back then. She's the youngest generation of a well-connected and sickeningly wealthy mainlander family. I certainly didn't fit in with her style- and status-focused crew. Still, we have a common history and know, or knew, the same people, including my late girlfriend, of whom Peggy was unabashedly jealous. Yes, Peggy had liked me, but that was a long time ago and I'm sure she doesn't feel that way anymore.

While Mei-ling and I were sitting in Soy Milk King and Mr. Li was regaling his table, Peggy had messaged back that she would welcome my dear little cousin as a temporary intern. Could I bring her by soon?

I replied,
one hour
.

We walked into Taipei
101's entrance at Xinyi Road and stood in the cavernous lobby. It was like a church of capitalism. The endless windows strangely seemed to allow in more sunlight than was typically available in Taipei at noon. Tourist groups from all over the world marched off to the left for the multilevel mall and “food.”

Mei-ling stood on her toes and took in the bigness of it all. “Maybe we should go shopping right now!” she squealed.

“I want you to meet someone first,” I said. “Peggy Lee. She's an old classmate.” Mei-ling nodded. “You're going to be her intern.”

Her eyes flashed. “What! You mean I would work here?”

“I have to keep you out of trouble and you can't work with me anymore. Besides, you'll have more fun here. It's like a hundred times classier than the night market.”

I could already see it in her eyes. Mei-ling was lulled by the spectacle of the skyscraper's expansive interior. Yes, this was as big as her ambition.

I saw the stars flicker in her eyes before she blinked. “What would I be doing?”

“Peggy runs a hedge fund. I'm sure she'll find something. Are you good with numbers?”

“No.”

“Decent at typing?”

“No.”

“How's your business English?”

“Bad.”

I crossed my arms and looked into her eyes. Mei-ling wasn't lying about any of it.

“Well, just pretend to be capable,” I warned her.

The hedge-fund office was
on the 88th floor behind double doors that opened automatically. A secretary was perched behind his desk, arms folded. He watched us with his cat eyes.

“Well, hello,” he challenged.

“Hi,” I said. “We're here to see Peggy.”

“Peggy?”

“Peggy Lee. I'm her old classmate, Jing-nan.”

“Jing-nan, is it? Hmmm, Ms. Lee doesn't have you in her calendar at this time.” He suddenly touched his earpiece and looked to his left at an unseen terror. “Yes. Yes. Of course.” He raised his arms in defense, his eyes widened in fear. “She'll be right out,” he stammered. I heard a door slam shut followed by footsteps heavy enough to crush nuts.

Peggy barreled around a corner. She was dressed in a black pantsuit and black platform shoes. A panther walking upright. Her hair was cut into short, purposely messy fringes. Her eyes were cunning but not altogether devoid of humanity.

There was a time when I disliked her strongly and that time ended not too long ago. Now I considered her a friend whom I didn't entirely trust.

She put her arms up when she saw me, sending metal bracelets rattling down to her sharp elbows.

“Jing-nan!” she said. “I was so glad to hear from you!” Peggy petted my shoulders.

“Hi, Peggy,” I said, touching her left arm.

“And you must be Mei-ling!” Peggy held out a hand to my niece.

“Hello, Ms. Lee,” she said as she shook hands.

The receptionist was standing, looking shocked. He'd never seen Peggy act so nice, probably.

“Are you hungry?” asked Peggy. “Do you want something from the kitchen? We have fresh ramen and some really great curry beef jerky.”

“We just ate,” I said.

She guided us past the guardrail of a pool that held koi older than our parents' generation. For luck, of course.

“Those are the biggest fish I've ever seen!” declared Mei-ling.

“I took care of them when I was a kid,” said Peggy. “They were the rejects from my grandfather's pool. He didn't think they had the right markings to compete in the koi shows. Look at them now. Meanwhile, all the prize-winning fish died long ago.”

Peggy waved her hand above the water and a fish that was mostly orange rose to the surface and wiggled. I saw a pattern on the top of its head.

“I think I see a lion's face on that one,” I said.

“I call him the Lion King. I feel like we have a psychic connection.”

The fish, which was obviously hoping for food, turned to me and judged me to be lacking as well. It yawned repeatedly and swam away.

We left the fish and continued down the corridor. After seeing the fish, all the wall art we passed by was a letdown. We came upon a framed unrolled scroll of a landscape of mountains, mists, and rivers. Commentaries on the art in the handwriting of several different princes were a testament to the antiquity and provenance of the scroll, which seemed to end with an abrupt rip.

“Where's the rest of it?” I asked as we stood just outside her office.

Peggy leaned back and petted the back of her head. “The rest decomposed. The tomb in China that it was recovered from became partly flooded. Sucks, doesn't it?” She cranked open her door and jerked her head at the entrance. I walked in, followed by Mei-ling.

“Your desk seems bigger,” I said.

“Everything's bigger,” said Peggy. “It's a whole new office. Didn't you notice?” She kicked the door closed behind her with her right heel.

“The last one wasn't too small, either,” I said.

Mei-ling, entranced, walked to the window at the far wall. The clouds looked like cotton balls smudged with facial oil, and close enough to pick up and throw in the trash. The city below was a Lego toyset that only included off-white, grey, and black blocks. Altogether the view was somber and yet empowering to the beholder. “Look at this view,” said Mei-ling. “I wouldn't get anything done if I worked here.”

“That's the wrong way to talk to a potential employer,” said Peggy as she yanked open a drawer. “Sit down, you guys. Let's get acquainted, Mei-ling. You want a drink?”

“Some water will be all right,” said Mei-ling as we took our seats in soft-cushioned client chairs.

“Water's boring. How about an aloe drink? Or some scotch?”

“She's sixteen, Peggy,” I said.

Peggy tilted her head and held out her hands, framing Mei-ling with her index fingers and thumbs. “She looks eighteen. You've drunk before, right?”

Mei-ling nodded.

“You're not drinking today,” I said. “This is supposed to be an interview.”

Peggy came around to the front of the desk and sat on the edge. With a wink she asked Mei-ling, “Will you work hard?” The girl nodded. Peggy slapped her knee. “Good enough for me. Can you start now?”

I felt a great burden lift from my shoulders. I was going to have my afternoon free!

Mei-ling turned to me with one eyebrow raised.

“She can start now,” I said.

“But I'm not dressed properly for an office,” Mei-ling blurted.

“Who's going to see you behind a desk?” said Peggy as she stood and stretched. “This is going to be a great day!” She undid the two buttons on her jacket and fanned herself with the lapels. “Now, where did I . . .” Her hands shot to her pants pockets and flapped around. She fished something out of her right pocket and held it out to Mei-ling. A flash-memory drive shaped like a salmon nigiri. The top half of it was pink with thin white parallel lines while the bottom was white and bumpy like rice. It would be convincing if a metal USB port weren't sticking out.

“Cute, isn't it?” she asked Mei-ling.

Mei-ling smiled and swung her legs. “Yes, it's very cute. Is this a present for me?”

“It's more than just a present, because it's something useful,” said Peggy. “Go to the office next door and use the PC. You don't need a login. There's an Excel spreadsheet on this sushi drive. I want you to update the closing prices of the stocks and funds on it.” My cousin picked up the drive gingerly. “You've used Excel before, right, Mei-ling?”

“I used a little bit of it in school,” she said. It was more likely that she only saw a Microsoft commercial.

Peggy smiled like a truant officer the kids couldn't bullshit. “Then get to it. It's pretty intuitive. You promised you'd work hard so show me.”

Chapter Eight

I met up with
Nancy at the benches near Taida's western entrance on Xinsheng Road. With wide walkways and monumental palm trees, the campus always reminded me of my school-orientation visit to Universal Studios in Los Angeles.

Nancy had been making protest signs. She was dressed to get dirty in an old smock over thin jeans. Paint and glitter were splattered on her smock and her neck. I recognized the faded green sleeves hanging off her shoulders as belonging to a Flaming Lips shirt. She was done with the Lips now. I never liked the band. Dipping the entire shirt in bleach and obliterating the band photo would be a service to humanity.

“I'm glad you were able to tear yourself away,” I said as I gave her a sideways hug. It was the only public display of affection along the entire entrance path apart from a foreign couple holding hands. “You're doing something important. Our country is counting on you.”

Nancy crossed her right leg and picked off some paint splatter near her ankles. “You could join us, you know,” she said. “You don't have to be an activist to care about Taiwan.”

“Someone has to feed the revolution.” I pointed at the smock and said, “I like your new dress. It's really you.”

She kicked me with her crossed leg. “Most people wouldn't wear smocks today, because they're white,” she said, picking at the straps. White is the traditional color of mourning and a white smock would be akin to a shroud. Wearing it could only foreshadow a period of mourning for you and your family. You'd have to be superstitious to feel that way but that applies to the entire population of Taiwan. “Apparently the lady at Drunken Moon Lake has been showing up again.”

I crossed my arms and sighed. Taida, like Taipei in general, is supposedly haunted by a host of ghosts. An elevator somewhere on campus always stops on a certain floor at midnight because a worker was killed there. If a student walks through Fu Si-nian memorial garden in a manner disrespectful to the late former president of Taida, she or he will fail classes that semester. Then there is the Ghost of Drunken Moon Lake.

There are a few different stories about a female student from decades ago (boyfriend broke up with her, boyfriend was going to break up with her, boyfriend was gay and going to break up with her) who jumped into the lake and drowned. Supposedly, when the moon is full or when something bad is imminent, a young woman in white can be seen pacing in the pagoda on the lake's tiny island or floating around the perimeter of the lake. She may approach an unsuspecting person and ask, “What time is it?” before fading into a mist.

“Did you see the ghost?” I asked Nancy. She opened her eyes wide and crossed herself. “What are you doing, Nancy? You're not Christian.”

“I'm not, but don't use that word! Call her a ‘lady.'” Nancy cleared her throat. “I don't believe in any of that supernatural stuff. Not really. On the other hand, I don't want to invite trouble. It's so close to the Mid-Autumn Festival.”

I leaned back and laughed. Once upon a time when I was just a stupid kid, I believed that in order for our society to move forward, Taiwanese would have to give up all their crazy superstitious beliefs. Nobody in the world tends to more deities than we do. There are pantheons of Taoist, Buddhist, and folk goddesses and gods, all with their birthday celebrations and entourages. We flock to temples and pay cash donations to appease the divines for guidance and comfort. There are even dog deities. Dogs. I like some dogs, even my local pack leader, Willie, but they lick their own assholes. Maybe there's a deep meaning-of-life lesson in that action, but those animals don't belong on altars.

What a waste of time, effort, and money it was to worship, the young me had thought.

Now, however, I know that burning incense, throwing down divining wood blocks, or asking a fortune teller's approval on life decisions such as home purchases or marriages is just a matter of setting one's mind at ease, finding comfort in the moderate hell of indecision in the greater hell that life can be.

After all, there's always some wiggle room. Your fate isn't really set by your
bazi
, the eight characters of the time, day, month, and year of your birth. People argue with diviners like haggling over goods at a market. If a goddess or god doesn't grant your wish, then say to blazes with them and move on to the next one with a better fruit offering this time. Feel free to hop among the Taoist, Buddhist, Christian, Muslim, and animistic beliefs until you get to the spirit who will give you want you want.

I handed a ham-and-cheese
sandwich and a box of cold chrysanthemum tea to Nancy. This wasn't just any sandwich, mind you. It was from a bakery that roasts the ham slowly for twenty-four hours and tops it with shavings from sharp cheddar cheese aged more than two years. They slice both right in front of you and lay it upon their own rye bread, which has a hint of cinnamon. The top piece of bread is coated with a spicy, seeded mustard that tickles the tongue. I like those sandwiches so much I'd eaten mine on the sidewalk upon exiting the store.

I told Nancy about the internship I'd hooked up for my cousin.

“Is Mei-ling going to be safe with Peggy?”

I sipped some tea and swished it around my mouth to dislodge a mustard seed stuck between my molars. “Of course she is! Peggy's not going to eat her.”

Nancy jabbed me with her right elbow. “You're so annoying! I meant that Peggy is going to make her work long hours. Maybe too long.”

“I hope so. The office work will give Mei-ling the discipline she craves so badly.”

“But she wants to be a singer.”

My tea box bottomed out. I shoved the straw back inside and crumpled the paper box. “The sooner that dream is crushed, the better,” I said. “If you heard what I heard, you'd know what I'm talking about.”

“Not all famous people were so great when they started out.”

“Nobody who ever made it was that bad at the beginning!”

“Jing-nan, don't you see that you're treating her the same way her father treats her? If you encouraged her to pursue her dream, maybe she wouldn't become famous but she'd definitely stop acting out in school.”

Nancy had really hit on something there. I looked down at my feet. I was being a jerk to Mei-ling. Who was I, really, to say she had no talent? I didn't like popular music but clearly there was an audience for it.

“You're right, Nancy.”

She stood up and brushed her smock down flat. “Of course I'm right. I'm going to take this food back to the meeting room.”

“You're sure you can't hang out with me some more?”

“I told you! I'm in charge of the Taida mobilization. If I slack off, everyone else will, too!”

I stood up and we hugged again before she left.

Damn, if Bauhaus, the CD store, were still open, I would go there now. Nancy told me the space is a Starbucks now.

I wondered what the
heidaoren
who had owned Bauhaus was doing these days. I guess there was some poetic justice in the fact that illegal music downloading had driven out of business a store that sold bootleg CDs, but Bauhaus certainly served a demand while it was around.

Organized crime isn't always an evil thing in Taiwan. Sure, they handle a lot of illegal dumping and they cheap out on construction. But they also had installed cable television throughout the island while the government sat on its hands, unsure of how to coordinate through different jurisdictions. The gangs simply rolled out the wire and threaded it through where they could. People had been dying for cable back then. The government didn't give us what we wanted, but the
heidaoren
did. Good for them!

Whoever can make things happen, we Taiwanese back them one hundred percent.

Speaking of people who
make things happen, my phone rang and I answered right away when I saw that it was Big Eye.

Dispensing with pleasantries, he asked, “Is Mei-ling with you?”

“No. She's at her internship.” I was walking north on Xinsheng Road, which would eventually take me to the jutting western border of Da'an Forest Park. I always seemed to gravitate to that park when I didn't know what to do with myself.

“Internship?” Big Eye asked, articulating each syllable. “I thought she was maybe going to work at your food stall.” I heard him swig a drink and give a satisfied exhale.

“She worked there one night but I found her a better job.” I crossed the street and found myself on the perimeter of the park. I passed a group of Chinese visitors arguing about where to go next.

“She's not answering her phone,” Big Eye said. “She must be really busy.”

“Her boss probably confiscated her cell phone.”

“Oh,” he said, sounding impressed. “Must be a good boss. What is she doing? And where?”

“Mei-ling is doing office stuff at Lee & Associates in Taipei 101. It's a hedge fund run by an old classmate of mine. The Lees are a pretty prominent mainlander family.” The wind rose cinematically and the trees at the perimeter of the park swayed, making a white noise that masked the voices of the Chinese tourists.

“The boss probably took Mei-ling's phone so she couldn't tip someone off on what stocks to buy.”

“I didn't even think about that,” I said.

Big Eye cackled. “I know all the angles, Jing-nan! You think I'm stupid because I didn't go to school?”

“Big Eye, you're smarter than I'll ever be,” I admitted. “I would never lie to you about anything.”

Over the line I heard ice clinking and then a slight delay before he spoke. “I know, I know,” Big Eye said. “That's why I trust you with my daughter.”

He sounded like he was in a good mood. Maybe he was buzzed. This was a good chance to talk about Mei-ling's dreams. Meanwhile, the trees began bucking like water buffalo stuck in mud. A storm was upon us.

“Say, Big Eye, I was wondering if you ever thought about getting Mei-ling some singing lessons.”

“Why?” The way he asked made it sound like a threat.

“She wants to be a singer. If you encouraged her, then maybe . . .”

“If I encouraged her, I would be prolonging her delusion and wasting my money. You've no doubt been tortured by one of her songs by now. She sucks.”

“She might behave better in school if you helped her pursue her dream.”

“Did she tell you this?” A crack of lightning broke the sky. Grey sheets of cool rain swept down. My arms became drenched as I used my free hand to cover my phone. I wasn't going to allow this conversation to be disconnected by a sudden storm.

“Actually,” I said, “my girlfriend suggested that maybe what Mei-ling needs is encouragement.” I peered across the street, searching for refuge. The Chinese tourists had gone into turtle formation, interlocking their opened umbrellas into plates of a gigantic shell. My eyes were drawn to the windows of a Friendly Mart that glowed in the rain like an electric bug zapper. I jogged to the corner and across the street.

“Don't listen to your girlfriend.” Big Eye sounded like he'd tasted something sour. “Girls all stick together. Don't you know this by now, Jing-nan? I thought you were a man!”

Some people blame Confucian values for Taiwanese chauvinism. Others blame residual Japanese culture. Maybe it's both. It doesn't really matter. It's fucked up.

“This is not a man versus woman battle,” I told Big Eye. “I'm worried about my little cousin. Your daughter is a sixteen-year-old girl. Shouldn't you support her interests?”

I entered the Friendly Mart. I was assaulted by lights bright enough for an autopsy theater, unnervingly clean floors, and optimized product placement dictated by corporate headquarters. The complete antithesis of the beautiful chaos of the night market. I stood near the soup station and looked over the sausages and skewers. Up close they looked like the fake rubber food in restaurant display windows.

“Listen, Jing-nan,” said Big Eye. “I give her everything she needs and more—iPads, iPhones, Galaxies.
Gan!
I bought her a galaxy of gadgets and she still won't give up the singing!”

“Maybe one reason Mei-ling won't give it up is because you're pressuring her to give it up.”

“If someone's shooting heroin, do you encourage them to do more drugs to get them to quit?”

“Singing isn't illegal.”

I heard the tinkling sounds that ice cubes make in a glass after a last gulp. “The way she sings, it should be,” he muttered. “Well, the most important thing is that I finally got her away from Chong. You haven't heard any sign of him, have you?”

I felt my mouth go dry. Did Big Eye know?

“Well, he came to my apartment last night,” I said. “He wanted to see Mei-ling, but I convinced him to go back to Taichung.”

“I heard Chong was in Taipei. He had to clear it with Black Sea so he could enter their turf. He had said it was about a girl. Black Sea thought Chong and his darkie friends might be trying to set up a branch of their gang in Taipei.”

I couldn't imagine why Black Sea, the biggest criminal organization in Taiwan, would be concerned about a single person of interest in their turf. After all, not only did they have politicians in their pockets, some Black Sea members
were
politicians. I guess they couldn't let anything slip and from Chong's point of view, it was best for him to ask for permission to enter first.

Chong. He hadn't turned out to be the gangster I'd expected. I would call him a nice guy. Naïve, even. Certainly not someone who deserved to be slurred.

“Big Eye, you don't have to call Indonesian people ‘darkies.'”

“You're right. I don't.”

I became aware that a Friendly Mart employee was giving me the evil eye. I held the phone against my chest and said, “I'm just waiting for the rain to stop. Do I have to buy something?”