Shanghai Girl (26 page)

The woman’s smile couldn’t have been sweeter. “Thank you so much, Sir!” she declared, promptly pressing an “Adopt A Friend” sticker on my lapel.

“No! No!” But it was too late.

The balled sticker landed in a trash can on Wall Street. Nobody at Sachs & Klein would appreciate the humor of such a badge of honor.

I named the four-legged mongrel Moratorium, deciding that with him in, Sha-fei’s out. No more Chinese, Japanese, dirty nieces for a while, please. This will be the period of moratorium.

But to my own disbelief, I continue to miss Sha-fei. I even make a copy of her parting note and carry it around in my Mark Cross billfold. And how can I forget the circumstances under which the copy was made. It was at the closing of the Freshwater Utility Corporation’s billion-dollar buy out deal last Friday – my first closing since joining Sachs & Klein. It was 10:20 p.m. and I had been in and out of the conference room since 9:30 that morning. I didn’t realize how late it was until I looked outside the window and saw the Brooklyn Bridge and its Gothic gateways, all lit up. The view from the 32
^nd
floor was awesome. It’s a horrible shame to have to waste a night like this in a suffocating den filled with legal pedants, screaming clients, and withered plants. As I was. Tabor Wilcox, the leading partner on the deal was rubbing his eyes and yawning, his glasses landing lenses-side down on the long, cluttered table. A corner of the curly fax before him was brown, stained by a can of spilled Diet Pepsi. I walked towards the rectangular end table to get what must have been my 20
^th
cup of coffee of the day and nearly tripped over the phone line that was dragged to the conference table. The guy on the phone gave me a dirty look before returning to bang on the HP-12c calculator in front of him. The Chinese food I had the paralegals order had only fatty chicken wings and fertilizer-like fried rice left by the time I had a chance to take a bite. Half-eaten burgers and donuts lay mixed with cigarette butts and ashes and Perrier water bottle caps. The paralegals were frantically forging corporate signatures on the closing docket, the third time in a day they had done so due to the eleventh-hour changes.

At half past ten, I finally had to excuse myself from the conference room to release my caffeine-satiated bladder. As I stared down at my engorged appendage, I wished I could then and there be in a stall with Sha-fei. Irene and I did our share of peeing, powdering, and pawing in restroom stalls in places like the Tunnel, the Limelight, and the Palladium. I was never given a chance to go this far with Sha-fei …

It was after the bathroom trip that I sneaked into the floor’s xeroxing cubicle and clumsily punched in my 4-digit attorney code and the “Firm Matters” client code. I smoothed out the piece of paper from a yellow legal pad and copied Sha-fei’s parting words. I would never let a paralegal handle this job for me.

And now, as I slouch in the day bed sucking a cigarette at the same rhythm Moratorium is chewing his Bow Wow Chow, I again have the urge to read Sha-fei’s words.

A gracefully penned parting shot, I have to admit. Considering that its author had lived all her life in the Western-culture-starved China up until a couple of months prior to its drafting, it was truly impressive. A lawyer should know good English from legalese. He only wishes he too, writes with a dab of elegance. So, with that, this FOB Shanghai woman has dumped me, leaving me shattered. This woman who has the rare combination of a brain and a body. Not since Irene Lou told me her father hated my being around her had I been hurt so much. I want to talk to Sha-fei. I need to see her. And the only way to track her down is to call Gordon Lou. I’m convinced that Gordon Lou, himself, has lured her away from me. The thought of him makes me fume. This stick-in-the-mud diehard who can't stand the sight of a Chinese woman with a white man, a man who probably desires Sha-fei’s young flesh as much as I do! But hell, I’ll call him and ask for Sha-fei. Every Chinese woman on earth is not his daughter!

“
Evening Pearls. Please hold.”

The voice sounds vaguely familiar.

“Evening Pearls. How may I help you?”

“Gordon Lou, please.”

“Who’s calling?”

“My name is Ed Cook. I’m an acquaintance of Mr. Lou’s.”

The familiar voice hesitates for a second. “What is this regarding, Mr. Cook?”

“Business.”

There is a pause. “Did you say your name was Edward Cook?”

“Yes. He’ll know who I am.”

“Are you the Ed Cook I know? I am-mmmmmm … ”

My brain has switched gears within seconds. The woman who works for Lou could actually be someone I know. “Wait! You sound … Let me see … ”

She giggles, followed by a weak, once familiar orgasmic moan: "Mmmm-Lo-Lo!-Lo!! Shoot!!!"

"Lotus Siew!"

The sound of her suppressed laughs tells me she’s cupping the receiver with her hand. “Small world. What are you calling Mr. Lou for?”

“Business,” I repeat. “I didn’t know you work for this guy.”

“You never asked, did you?”

“Listen, we have to get together. Let me take you out to dinner one of these days.”

“Since when are you interested?”

“Look, I’m serious. We should get together and catch up on things.”

“We can catch up on things on the phone. What have you been doing lately?”

“Well, believe it or not, I am a Wall Street lawyer now. I work as an associate for a firm downtown. But I mean we really should get together, for old time’s sake.”

She gasps. “No kidding. Which firm?”

“Sachs & Klein.”

“Oh, my God. It’s weird I never saw your name on the circulation list. So you’re talking to Mr. Lou about the listing in Hang Seng?”

My heart tightens. The old fart uses us as his counsel. Christ! I have to be a little discreet. And listing in Hang Seng? He’s moving overseas.

“W-well … , look, I told you I was new with the firm. But actually I was trying to talk to Mr. Lou about something else. Is he available?”

“Let me check, Ed.”

“Thanks, Lotus. And I will call you back so we can talk some more.”

“If you don’t, I know where to find you, now. Hold on, Ed, I have Mr. Lou for you.”

“
Yes,” his deep voice comes across curtly.

I go straight to the point. “Yes, Mr. Lou. I wondered if you know Miss Sha-fei Hong’s phone number. If you can give it to me.”

“I thought she was with you.”

“Not anymore. And I think you know why. Now I don’t want to be unpleasant, but you shouldn’t stop a woman from seeing a man just because you don’t happen to like it.”

“Enough! How dare you call this office and discuss Sha-fei Hong after what you did to my daughter? Lucky I didn’t … “

I jump in. “Listen, old man. Two can play the game. How does this sound for a front page headline of
The Gotham Tribune
: 'Federal prosecutors have indicted Gordon Lou, President of Evening Pearls, Inc., a former New York-based garment firm, for evading U.S. customs duties and corporate taxes. Lou is charged with defrauding the U.S. government by ... '"

“Shut up! You’re bluffing!"

"Oh, yeah? We shall see! Good day!" I slam the receiver down.

“
Evening Pearls.”

“Listen, Lotus. It’s Ed again. Do me a favor: say absolutely nothing to Gordon Lou about knowing me.”

“Why? What’s the big deal?”

“Sorry, Lotus. I had an unpleasant exchange with your boss. Just don’t mention anything about me to him. Nothing! Can you promise me that?”

“If you say so. But why? We use your firm. You may have to deal with him one way or another.”

“Look, Lotus, just listen to me, okay? Plus I really want to get together. What are you doing tonight?”

“I have a date.”

“Oh come on. Cancel it!”

“I can’t. I’m engaged.”

I gasp. “Holy shit! You’re not kidding?”

“Congratulations are due, Mr. Cook.”

“Jesus, of course! Who’s the lucky guy?”

“You don’t know him.”

“Is he Chinese?”

“Yes.”

I’m on the verge of saying “Your boss will be happy” but I ask instead, “Is there a date for the wedding yet?”

“November ninth.”

“Send me an invite, will you?”

“Just give me your address.”

“You want to come over and visit? I will cook dinner for you. Sauna Barbecued Moratorium with duck sauce.”

“Sauna-barbecued what?”

“Got’ya! Moratorium is my dog.”

“Oh, God! You got a dog now? And you’re going put him on sauna grates? I’m grossed out.”

“I thought you guys like dog meat. Remember the saying ‘The Cantonese will eat anything with legs but tables and chairs’?”

“Give me a break, Ed. You’re really sick. I have to go. Got work to do.”

“One last thing. Did you notice any young women from China in your office recently?”

“We run a factory here. Most of the people are young women from China. What are you getting at?”

“Oh, forget it. Stay in touch. And, congratulations.”

I am determined to nail the mean-spirited Gordon Lou. I’m certain of one way: If you can't catch someone elsewhere, you can always do it on tax evasion charges. I threatened him with that on the phone and he really seemed to react. He must have something he’s trying to hide.

I give the eager new paralegal this assignment: Here's a Lexus/Nexus and Westlaw search request. Use the client/matter code of General Solutions, Inc./Bankruptcy for billing. Everyone in the firm I have observed - from partners to paralegal to proofreaders to temps - has been charging on the "GSI/brpt" account for miscellaneous, unrelated, and unaccounted-for expenses. Small wonder General Solutions is bankrupt. Every buck they make goes to our legal fees and bank interest. Sure, it’s against the law for the firm to do this, but we are a firm of legal experts. As long as the interpretation sticks, anything is legal. Everybody in the firm just looks the other way.

I give these headings for the para to search: Evening Pearls, Inc., Gordon Lou, IRS, Personal Income Tax Returns, Federal corporate tax, New York State tax, New York City tax, Securities and Exchange Commission, Universal Commercial Code, and charitable contributions. Mix and match whichever way you want. Just give me clues. Clues to the dirt on Gordon Lou.

The girl works at it for hours. Finally, the report comes out fast and clean. A Westlaw search has this headline for a February 1985 story in Hong Kong’s
South China Morning Post
: "Evening Pearls purchases Shanghai Garment Factory. To List on Hang Seng." The old fox has indeed moved his operations offshore. Now there's something for me to go after. Nobody can do such a cross-border deal seamlessly, not even my own old man if someone is determined enough to get him. And a half-minted so-called Chinese-American like Gordon Lou? He doesn’t even stand a chance!

But the man obviously is an old client of the firm. I don’t want to make waves before I really have something. And I’ll make sure Lotus doesn’t tell Lou who I work for.