Read Nothing to Lose Online

Authors: Norah McClintock

Nothing to Lose (6 page)

BOOK: Nothing to Lose
9.21Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

“I haven't been to the Santa parade in years,” I said. “Let's do it. It'll be fun.”

We took the bus into the heart of the city. The Chinatown area is laid out like a big cross, running about ten city blocks east-west and eight city blocks north-south. Originally all of the restaurants and businesses had been Chinese. These days at least half of them are Vietnamese, but people still call the area as Chinatown.

Traffic always moves more slowly through Chinatown on weekends. People from all over flock to the area to check out the shops, eat at the restaurants, and socialize with friends. As soon as we got to the fringes of Chinatown, Nick leaned over me and pulled the cord to get off. We jumped down onto the street.

Making our way along the sidewalk was like navigating an obstacle course, even early in the morning. The contents of every store seemed to have spilled out onto the sidewalk. Rickety tables outside grocery stores were laden with fruits and vegetables, half of which I couldn't name. Racks and tables of clothing crowded the sidewalks outside of clothing stores, displaying traditional Chinese garments as well as tourist T-shirts and sweatshirts. Every few feet a double-parked truck blocked the narrow street while men unloaded crates onto what was left of the sidewalk, forcing passing pedestrians onto the street, which made things even more difficult for the cars trying to get by.

“Isn't it great here?” Nick said. “It's like another world.”

It really was.All the stores and restaurants had English names painted on their signs and awnings. But they also had bigger, bolder Chinese or Vietnamese names. And most of the people—not all, but most—going in and out of the shops were of Chinese or Vietnamese descent. The younger people, the twentysomethings and the kids my age, all looked hip and trendy. But then you'd see old people, wrinkled grandfathers and tiny grandmothers, dressed in traditional-style pants and tunics.

Nick held my hand tightly as he wove his way through the crowd and the sidewalk tables.

“Let's get something to eat,” Nick said. “I know this great bakery. And a good restaurant where we can have lunch a little later. And I thought this afternoon we could—what's the matter, Robyn? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because—I was thinking that you'd forgotten all about me. But I can see you've given a lot of thought to this weekend. It's kind of nice.”

He smiled back at me and kissed me lightly on the lips. “I wasn't kidding, Robyn. I really missed you. It's just hard to work
and
keep up in school.”

“It's okay,” I said. “I'm just glad we're together now. Come on. Show me that bakery.”

He led me down the street, around the corner, and into a brightly lit store that was obviously popular. It was thronged with customers. Everyone in the place, except Nick and me, was Asian. No one was speaking English.

“Take a look around,” Nick said. “Maybe you'll find something you can take to Henri's later.”

“Good idea,” I said.

I had to peek around all the customers to see the display cases. I recognized some of the items—sponge cake, coconut cake, egg-custard tarts, almond cookies, apple turnovers. But I had no idea what other items were. I had to rely on the little labels on each tray. There were also sesame balls, crispy honey butterflies, and bright yellow biscuits called “sunny cookies.” Everything looked so good—okay, so I wasn't too sure about the egg custard—that I couldn't make up my mind. I looked around for Nick.

I couldn't see him anywhere.

I doubled back to the bakery's main door, scanning the customers as I went. Normally Nick is easy to spot in a crowd because of his jet-black hair. But everyone in the bakery besides me had black hair. I finally caught sight of him standing at a display case near the front of the store.

I began to work my way toward him. It wasn't easy. People were pressed close to the display cases, giving what sounded like complicated orders to the counter attendants. No one seemed to want to move for fear of losing their places.

I kept my eyes on Nick as I picked my way through all the people and saw a counter attendant, a pretty Chinese girl, say something to him. Nick pointed to something in the display case and held up two fingers. The girl's head disappeared for a moment and then bobbed up again. I saw her slip two pastries into a brown paper bag. She said something else to Nick. He shook his head.

The girl threaded her way through the other counter attendants toward the cash register. Nick followed her on the other side of the display case. He handed something to her—payment for his order. As she opened the cash drawer, she made a quick scan of the crowded store. Nick glanced around too. Then the girl reached down under the counter. She continued to check out the customers and her coworkers as she fiddled with the bag containing Nick's pastries. She folded the top of the bag and handed it to Nick along with his change.

They looked at each other for a moment. Nick didn't move, even though he had already paid. Then someone shouted and the girl jumped. She had a startled look on her face, as if she had just been caught doing something she had been told not to do. She called something in Chinese to the woman who had shouted at her, then she hurried away. Nick watched her go. When he backed away from the counter, his eyes were still on the girl. I squeezed through the crowd toward him. He took my hand and led me out into the street.

“Who was that?” I said.

“Who was who?”

“That girl.”

“What girl?”

“The girl behind the counter,” I said.

He looked baffled. “What do you mean? She's just a girl who works there.”

“But you know her, right?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Come on. I saw the way she was looking at you. Did she slip you an extra pastry, Nick?” I made a grab for the bag he was carrying.

Nick swung it up out of my reach.

“You think she was checking me out?” he said, grinning. “What's the matter? Are you jealous, Robyn?”

“So you
don't
know her?”

Nick's grin widened. He seemed to be enjoying this. “Yeah, you're jealous,” he said. He ducked to kiss me on the lips. “I've never had anyone jealous on account of me before.”

“I am
not
jealous,” I said. Okay, that wasn't completely honest. I had definitely felt a twinge when I'd seen the way the girl had looked at Nick. She was so pretty—petite, lively dark eyes, long, glossy black hair. But the girl wasn't the only thing that was bothering me. Something was going on with Nick. He didn't usually scout his surroundings the way he had done before we got on the bus—and the way he was doing again now that we had left the bakery. His eyes were moving all the time, checking faces on the sidewalk and on the other side of the street, skimming the road and the cars going in both directions, taking a good look around before turning a corner. And then there was that bruise on his neck. . .

When I'd met Nick at the animal shelter a few months back, he had been doing time on a conviction for property damage and assault. It wasn't the first time he had been in trouble. But he had been trying to change. He had worked hard to make sure that when he finished his time, he would never have to go back. He had been looking forward to living with his aunt, maybe getting a dog. Nick loves dogs. But Glen, his aunt's new boyfriend, didn't like Nick, so it hadn't worked out. Nick had been disappointed, but he was still trying. He was living on his own, going to school, holding down a steady job, and he had a part-time gig walking a couple of dogs. I had thought that everything was going to turn out okay. Until our trip to Chinatown. He was acting strangely. And that worried me.

Nick and I had gone a whole block before I said, “I thought you were hungry. Aren't you going to eat that?”

Nick gave me a blank look. I nodded at the paper bakery bag he was carrying.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “I was just looking for a place where we could sit down. How 'bout that mall over there?” He pointed down the street. “I'll buy you some tea.”

“Okay.”

Nick held my hand as we crossed the street, and that made me feel better. It always did. We made our way through the mall's lower level until we ended up in a food court.

“You stay here,” Nick said, pointing to an empty table. “I'll get us something to drink. You want Chinese tea or regular?”

“Chinese.”

Still carrying his bakery bag, Nick bounded across the court to a counter on the far side and waited until the woman behind the counter had finished serving another customer. She turned to Nick and he placed his order. The woman reached for a couple of cups—one with a Coke logo on it and the other one a sturdier, cardboard cup for hot drinks. But instead of filling them, she disappeared through a door behind the counter.

When she emerged a moment later, with both cups still in her hand, a man followed her. He was wearing a white apron and had a white cap on his head. He lifted a plastic tray off a stack near the cash register and set it on the counter. The woman poured hot water into the cardboard cup, and the man filled the other cup with Coke for Nick. While the woman put lids on the cups, Nick moved to the cash register and dug in his pocket for money to pay for the drinks. He handed it to the man. Maybe he used too many small coins, or maybe he gave the man the wrong amount, because the man stared at whatever was in his hand for a few moments. He looked up at Nick and frowned. Finally he stepped over to the cash register. Nick moved with the man. The man handed him something—his change, I guess—and Nick put it in his pocket. He dropped the bakery bag onto the tray with the drinks and headed back across the food court toward me.

“Here you are,” he said, taking one of the cups off the tray and sliding it across the table to me. “One cup of Chinese tea.”

“Was there a problem?” I said.

“What do you mean?” He sat down, peeled the plastic lid off his Coke, and took a long gulp.

“The man at the register—he was looking at you funny.”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn't notice?”

He shook his head. “First you think the girl at the bakery was looking at me funny. Now it's the man at the cash. You know what I think, Robyn? I think you should have stayed in bed this morning instead of picking up dead birds. You could have used the extra sleep.” He opened the bakery bag, took out two round, flat pastries, and grinned appreciatively. “Mmmmm. Red bean paste,” he said. “Want to try one?”


Bean
paste?” I shook my head.

“Have you ever tried it?” Nick said.

“Well, no.”

Nick broke off a piece of pastry and held it out to me. When I started to protest, he said, “What's the matter? Don't you trust me?”

“Yes, but—”

“It's really good. I wouldn't lie to you, Robyn.” He pushed the piece of pastry closer to me. With a sigh, I accepted it and took a tiny bite.

“Well?” Nick said.

It didn't taste at all the way I thought something called red bean paste would. In fact, it tasted really good. I took another bite. Before I knew it, I had eaten the whole piece. Nick took the second pastry from the bag, broke it in half, and gave a piece to me. I ate it with my tea.

When we had finished, I put our empty cups onto the tray and reached for the bag the pastries had been in. Nick snatched it from me and eased the tray out of my hand.

“I'll take care of that,” he said. He got up and carried the tray to the trash. He slid the cups into the slot, but not the bakery bag. Instead, he carefully folded it and slipped it into one of his hoodie's big front pockets, scanning the food court but trying to appear casual about it.

“Is everything okay?” I said when he came back to the table to get me.

He looked at me for a moment as if it were a crazy question.

“Sure,” he said. “Why wouldn't it be?”

That was my question exactly.

W
e spent the morning visiting stores, checking out imported toys, fans, peacock feathers, silk purses, embroidered jackets, beautiful jade jewelry and statues—the dragons were my favorite—kites, bamboo furniture, and scrolls painted with cherry blossoms. Every now and then I'd turn to say something to Nick, but he wouldn't be there. Then he would turn up again, take my hand in his, and kiss my cheek, acting like a guy who was enjoying his first weekend off in a very long time.

Finally he said, “I'm starving. You ready for lunch?”

As a matter of fact, I was. I had been up since four and hadn't eaten anything except some pieces of bean paste pastry.

The restaurant Nick wanted to eat at was located off the main roads, tucked halfway up a narrow side street.

“It's not fancy, but the food is terrific,” he said.

Nick was right. The place didn't look like much on the outside—a low, grime-stained brick building with a red-and-white sign. The small English lettering said “Golden Treasures.” The dining room inside was tiny, the tables were covered with red plastic tablecloths, and the chairs were mismatched. Nick led me to a table for two along one wall and helped me out of my jacket. A woman approached us with a pot of tea and a couple of menus. She filled the little handle-less teacups on the table and handed us each a menu. I opened it and was relieved to find that it was written in both Chinese and English.

BOOK: Nothing to Lose
9.21Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Staging Death by Judith Cutler
Captain's Fury by Jim Butcher
Desde mi cielo by Alice Sebold
Relative Happiness by Lesley Crewe
Sword by Amy Bai
Bull Mountain by Brian Panowich
Aftershocks by Monica Alexander