Incensed (15 page)

I'd been too busy to eat and now that the adrenaline was wearing off, I was feeling hungry. “Do you want to try ‘little bun inside big bun'? We're sort of heading toward them.”

“I've never tried that. Let's go!”

I looked back and saw that we weren't putting much distance between us and the younger kids. “I guess your fans are going to try some, too.”

We entered the indoor area of the night market and walked down the perennially broken escalator. The kids followed us, to the delight of the stall owner.

The kids wouldn't let us pay for the double buns. They wouldn't even let us wait for them to be prepared. Two girls asked us what we wanted and then got in line. One of the boys seemed a little older. Grad student, I guessed. His hair was in a perm and resembled a pack of dry ramen out of the wrapper. Probably didn't get out much. He seemed thrilled just to be hanging out with us.

The “little bun” is a little fried pastry, filled with something either sweet or savory. When you order, a woman who looks as stern as a temple guardian statue places your little bun on a cutting board and smashes it up with a metal mallet. She then scrapes the pieces onto a soft flour pancake. The pancake is then rolled up, forming the “big bun.” It's definitely heavy on the carbs, but hey, it's fun to eat.

Pictures of celebrities adorned the bottom of the sign for the little-bun-inside-big-bun stall. President Ma Ying-jeou himself, rocking a rubbery Devo hairdo, flashed a toothy grimace while shaking hands with the owner, a thin man with dark skin. Judging by how much less hair the owner had now and the confidence in President Ma's eyes, the picture must have been from Ma's first campaign, the 2008 election, and not the contentious 2012 drive before his re-election.

Another picture featured the owner with one arm around the waist of Yao Yao, a young singer known for her baby face and large breasts. Yao Yao brandished a double bun in one hand and gave a peace sign with the other.

The last picture was with an exhausted-looking Jackie Chan. I've never seen him look so old. Jackie wasn't smiling and he also didn't seem aware that his picture was being taken or that the owner was trying to hand him a freshly wrapped double bun.

In every picture Mallet Woman stood in the background, small and forlorn. You hear about images of long-dead classmates that show up in group pictures taken at graduations and reunions. She looked like one of those ghosts.

Mallet Woman was sullen and silent in real life but she let her tool do the talking. Pow! Pow! Pow! The poor little buns had no chance. You could feel each angry strike through your feet.

“That woman's a wrecking ball!” said Nancy.

“Don't steal money from her,” said Mei-ling.

“I wonder if she only uses one lucky mallet,” I said.

“She's got more than one,” said Nancy. “She's got that one with a rounded head and one under the counter with a square head.”

I watched and felt the mallet crash down. Guilty! Guilty! Guilty! She didn't really need to make such a racket but it was a great marketing gimmick. How could you not look at what was going on?

The kids brought over our food. I had gone with the red-bean filling. Mei-ling destroyed her curry pork one and Nancy took measured bites of her taro-root double bun.

Mei-ling's new fans were too shy to talk to her. Ramen Head was eating with shaking hands. I asked Mei-ling an interview-style question to help break the ice. “How did you come up with the name ‘Orchids,' Mei-ling?”

“I thought of a vagina,” she said. The girls in the group giggled. “It's like a flower, a receptacle with petals, stamen.”

“As an artist”—and I almost cringed when I said the word—“why do you have to sexualize your work?”

Mei-ling tilted her head and stared up at the ceiling. “We are sexual animals. That's how we reproduce and it's how we have fun. Hiding it is trying to deny who we are.”

I noticed a skinny young man wearing a Doraemon T-shirt sidling up to Nancy. “Great show,” he told her. “I'm a big fan of Boar Pour More.”

“Did you really like it?” asked Nancy as she nervously tightened the outer wrap of her double bun.

“Of course! I mean, you guys don't specifically sing about being gay, but your music helped give me the courage to come out of the closet.” He scratched his ear. “I was very inspired to hear that your guitarist was a lesbian. I'm sorry, but I can't remember her name.”

“See?” I said to Nancy. “Tell your guitarist I'm not the only one who can't remember!”

On our way out
of the night market I insisted on seeing Mei-ling back to her apartment. Nancy hopped in a cab to meet like-minded students at a cafe. There was online chatter about breaking off from the main activist group, which had showed its hand at being intrinsically self-promotional, and forming a new coalition to focus on the two main issues: trade pact and marriage equality.

Mei-ling slumped her shoulders as we entered the MRT. “Really?” she asked. “Every night, you're going to personally make sure I go home?”

“Yes,” I said. “You're my little cousin and while Taipei is a safe city, it's not completely crime-free.”

“I can understand if it's after midnight, but it's not even ten
p.m.
, Jing-nan,” she said. “If I can handle putting on a show in front of hundreds of people, I think I can get myself home.”

“I am acting under orders from Big Eye,” I said. “If anything goes wrong, I suffer the consequences.”

Mei-ling slapped my arm. “How do you know I won't go out again after you're gone?” she asked.

“Somebody from the building would probably follow you,” I said.

“Why are both of you men so afraid of what a little girl can do?” she complained to her phone as her thumbs worked the on-screen keyboard. Young people are so rude, talking to one person while texting another. It's disrespectful to both.

“I'm afraid of Big Eye, not you. I don't know what his deal is with you, but honestly I think he wants you to be happy in the long run. Why else would he give a shit about you finishing high school?”

She shrugged and twisted the ball of her foot into the ground.

“It might not feel like love but he cares about you.”

Mei-ling glanced at the lobby attendant. “He doesn't love anybody,” she said. “Not even himself.”

I have no problem lying so long as it makes someone feel better. But I couldn't make stuff up about a man to his own daughter.

“He's not as bad as you think he is,” I offered in a tone that I hoped was measurably positive.

Mei-ling scoffed. “You say that because you're a boy. He treats you differently than he does me.” Her face was still in her phone.

“Okay, maybe that's true, but you don't have to keep treating me like an enemy. You're not staying in Taipei that long, so let's commit to being friendly, and we can start by maybe having you look at me when you talk.”

She sighed and put her hands and the phone behind her back.

“Can we ride the Maokong gondola this weekend?” she asked. “I've heard it has some amazing views. Big Eye said I should visit some mountains and we both know you always do what my daddy wants you to.”

I didn't tell her that it was originally a temple fortune that said she should visit mountains. The gondola wasn't much more than just a fancy ski lift for tea tourists. “I know Big Eye wants you to see the mountains, but are you sure you want to go? It's not very hip.” With a conspiratorial tone, I added, “We can just tell him you went.”

The gondola route zipped up and across mountains on an aerial lift system on the east rim of Taipei. It wasn't a linear path. After a stop at the Taipei Zoo, the gondola line made a right turn and stopped at a temple before a final stop at several teahouses and farms. It had been a while since I'd been to the top, but I remember that there were stairs to go even higher. Supposedly, the higher you went, the better the quality of the tea.

“I want to check it out,” said Mei-ling. “We don't have things like gondolas in the country and I've never been on one.”

“We'll ride to the top this weekend and have a tea toast to congratulate you on your performance tonight.”

“If the view really is nice, maybe I'll be inspired to write a new song.”

“I think you should title it, ‘My Cousin Is So Great.'”

“Sounds catchy,” she said, giving the same fake smile American girls give their rivals by the lockers before homeroom in every Hollywood film.

Chapter Ten

Late that night, Nancy
and I met up at my place and wrestled in bed a while. After, she asked me why I seemed distracted.

“I'm worried about Mei-ling,” I said. “Not because she wants to sing but because she really is talented.”

Nancy pulled on her sleep outfit, my old T-shirt of The Cure (a band she liked more than I did), went to the kitchen and brought back two cans of Taiwan Beer (a brand she liked more than I did).

“She's good,” Nancy said as she popped open her can. “It was a little depressing watching her sing. It made me feel old!”

“Music's for young people,” I said. “Most people our age tune out and listen to the same albums.” I took a swig of Taiwan Beer. “This beer is not so great, you know?”

“You need to drink it more often. Anyway, you're right. After college, people have less time for music. Less time for movies, too.”

“Probably because they have real jobs. Not like us!”

“You have a real job! You have your own business!”

“Is it my business? I didn't start it. I still don't know what the secret marinade is made of. Dwayne won't tell me. Also, I have no idea where Frankie gets the meat from or how much he pays.”

I would be so screwed without those two guys. Dwayne and Frankie are two huge reasons why Unknown Pleasures works so well. In fact, at some point we may have to expand and hire more people. My grandfather had no idea what he was starting when he opened his dinky one-man stall. He and my grandmother had walked north into Taipei on bare feet from the fields of central Taiwan to find their fortune in the big city, as the family story goes.

I took another swig of Taiwan Beer. Still not great. “I would never allow this brand to sponsor any of Mei-ling's concerts.”

“She needs a good manager. Most of them are pretty crooked.”

“Big Eye probably knows people in the music business.”

“People like Big Eye are the reason why the entertainment industry is so crooked!”

“Yeah, you're right. Maybe that's why he doesn't want his daughter mixed up in it.”

Nancy polished off her beer and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “If you had a daughter, and she wanted to be a singer, would you let her?”

“Do you mean our daughter?”

“I'm not asking that!” she said, laughing.

“Did you know I already have a daughter? I left her back in the States!”

Nancy screamed and pushed me down on the mattress. I was dimly aware of a can of beer sloshing across the floor.

In the humid mid-morning,
Nancy's phone thumped with “Sailin' On” by Bad Brains. She likes to use samples from hardcore punk for her text message alerts. She figures texts are more urgent than phone calls, which she keeps tied to the default ringtone. How boring.

The occupation of the Legislative Yuan had ended with a whimper and the last stragglers had filed out around daybreak. The student leaders had broken yet another promise when they had closed-door meetings with representatives of the two major political parties. All dealings were supposed to be in a public forum and streamed online. The students were accused of selling out to the highest bidder.

Nancy's friends wanted to meet up again and talk about what went wrong. She took a quick shower and pulled on jeans with her hair still wet.

“Are you sure you don't want to come, Jing-nan?”

“I wouldn't know what to say.”

“You could just come and listen.”

“I'll pay more attention to politics when the next election comes up. I promise.”

“Democracy is now. It's always happening and you have to take part in it.”

“Would you stand in front of a Chinese tank, Nancy?”

“Why not? It's been done before and nothing happened.”

She kissed the top of my head on the way out. I heard the door close and her keys rattle in the lock.

Then I heard her scream shatter the morning.

I ran to the door naked and threw it open. The first thing I saw was a splotch of what looked like blood on the hallway floor near Nancy's feet. Then I noticed Big Eye, slouching against the wall and chewing betel nut. He was wearing light blue cotton slacks and a white linen shirt that was unbuttoned too far down for my taste. Whistle and Gao stood behind Big Eye on the ascending stairwell. Both were wearing black shirts and looked as imposing as human-sized chess pieces that wouldn't wait their turn to move.

Big Eye regarded Nancy with open amusement. “You never seen anyone spit betel nut before, little girl?” He smiled, showing off the red juice glistening on his teeth. Then he turned to me. “At least I don't have my dick hanging out in public. Is that a part of Taipei life, nephew?”

I covered up and said, “Nancy, this is my uncle, Big Eye, and his two best friends, Whistle and Gao.” They followed me back into the apartment, where I pulled on shorts and a shirt and got Big Eye a cup to spit into. No need to antagonize the neighbors with a splotchy hallway. Gao began to walk around my apartment, stopping at each window to look for rooftop snipers. Whistle sat on the couch, where he could keep an eye on the door.

Nancy started to excuse herself but my uncle cut her off.

“Just a moment, miss. Have you seen Chong around? Mei-ling's darkie ex-boyfriend?”

She recoiled at Big Eye's crude language.

“I'm looking for him. Take a look at this picture.”

“I haven't seen him. I also have to add that ‘darkie' is offensive to me.”

Big Eye gave a small smile. “Why's it offensive to
you
? You ain't one.”

“If you don't treat people respectfully, don't expect respect from other people. Have a good day, everybody.” She glared at me as she left.

“Big Eye, are you trying to get me into trouble?”

He waved away my question as if it were secondhand smoke. “Women get more passionate when they're mad. You should thank me. Anyway, have you seen Chong around?”

“No, I haven't. Why are you looking for him?”

“Everybody's looking for him. His friends and his family. Chong disappeared. I figured he must have come back to Taipei to be with Mei-ling.”

I tried to focus on Big Eye but the continued vigilance of Whistle and Gao was freaking me out. “He knows where I live and he hasn't been here,” I said.

Big Eye spat into the cup and watched the betel-nut juice swirl around. “That little monkey better stay the hell away from my little girl,” he warned the cup. “If you see him, you call me! Get it?”

“Of course,” I said. “Look, don't call him a monkey. Really, you're going way too far, Big Eye.”

My uncle ground his teeth. Apparently that was also the signal to leave. Gao swung my front door open and the three men stepped out.

“Have you tried Mei-ling yet?” I asked Big Eye.

“She wouldn't tell me the truth. Anyway, I have extra guys watching the building.” He glanced at his hands. “Mind if I keep the cup?”

It was one of the few microwave-safe cups I owned but it was probably already ruined.

“It's all yours,” I said as I walked to the door, ready to close and lock it.

“Wait, where the fuck are you going, nephew?”

“Back to sleep?”

“C'mon, let's go pick up Mei-ling together and take her to work. I want to see what her illustrious internship is like.”

The guy barely gave me enough time to put on my shoes.

We caught Mei-ling still
asleep and she moaned like a beached whale about being woken up. She denied that she had seen Chong and went back to complaining. Big Eye barked that she would never get anywhere being lazy and after he searched the bathroom for Chong, he demanded that Mei-ling shower and dress.

Whistle paced at the front door while Gao walked along the walls, pausing at the windows to scan for threats. I heard Mei-ling throw things around in her bedroom before she stomped out in a red blouse, black slacks, and bare feet.

“It's still way too early for me to go in,” she whined as she looked over her extensive shoe collection.

Big Eye brushed aside her complaints. “You'll impress your boss,” he said.

“Nothing impresses her! Ask Jing-nan!”

“The boss is a little crazy,” I offered.

“I'll bet she is,” said Big Eye. “Crazy with money! I've done some research online. The Lee family has money all over Taipei—and abroad.” He pointed at Whistle. “They have a goddamned villa in Switzerland near Roman Polanski's!”

Whistle frowned and wiped his nose. “What's a ‘villa'?” he asked.

“Don't you know anything? It's a mansion on a mountain. They look like cookie houses.” Big Eye made a sound like an angry swan and spat into his cup. “That's what I should have done. Invested in property abroad. Fucking mainlanders like the Lees always know what to do with their money.”

“It's a headache,” said Whistle. “You lose fifteen percent when you launder it and then . . .” He looked at me and narrowed his eyes. “There are other things to consider,” he said slowly.

Big Eye had already moved on, searching the ceiling as he expressed more admiration for Peggy's family. “It's all about who you know. The Lees were always in the right place at the right time. Buying old factories and knocking them down before they were rezoned into residential blocks. They had fruit futures when there was a disastrous banana crop. Hey, Jing-nan, you ever trade futures?”

“No,” I said. “But I wish I could have traded my future for someone else's.” My answer hadn't registered with him.

“You put your ass on the line when you trade 'em. You could lose everything.” He moved to stand behind Mei-ling. “Get some shoes on and let's go.”

“I'm not sure which ones I want yet.”

“You're not walking the runway at a fashion show. Put on those.”

“They're brown!”

“Then put on the black ones!”

“Don't tell me how to dress!”

“You're spoiled!” Big Eye thundered. “When I was your age, I had one pair of broken sandals to wear. I still have the scar on my ankle from that cheap-ass buckle.”

Mei-ling remained defiant. “Yeah? Show me your scar!” Big Eye's jaw tightened and he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“That's your Hakka side,” he said. “Stubborn and argumentative. You're only good at wasting time. Let's go!” He stormed out the door.

When he was gone, Mei-ling pulled on the black shoes Big Eye had pointed to earlier and marched out as angrily as her father. Gao's face was stoic as he followed but Whistle looked at me and shrugged. Just another day of family drama.

Peggy Lee had to
come down to the lobby area of Taipei 101 to personally sign us all in.

“There's some bullshit elevated-threat warning today,” she said, turning to Mei-ling. “Hell of a day for your father and his entourage to show up.”

At the security desk, the man with parted lacquered hair gestured to his monitor and Peggy draped herself over the counter to get a better look. Big Eye took the opportunity to lean back and examine the backside of her pantsuit. He nodded his approval and then spat red juice into his cup.

“Is this all right with you?” the man asked Peggy.

She caught Big Eye leering and frowned. “That's fine,” she told the guard.

“You can't bring up any more guests until he leaves.”

“I understand.”

The guard stood up and pointed at Big Eye's cup.

“Sir, you have to throw that into the garbage can over there. You can freshen up in the restroom.”

Big Eye smiled. “I don't need a restroom.” He spat the betel nut into the cup and dropped it into the can. Big Eye unwrapped a stick of gum and said to the guard, “You're doing a great job, you know? I feel safer with you around.”

On the elevator ride
up, Big Eye turned to Peggy and said, “It's my juvenile record, right?”

“You stole money from a temple that helps single mothers,” she said. “Very classy.”

Big Eye's nostrils flared. “That place never helped nobody! It was run by crooks!” He recovered himself. “Anyway, all charges were dropped against me. It shouldn't be on my record anymore.”

Mei-ling stood in the corner, turned to one of the walls. Whistle and Gao flanked her. I stood between Peggy and the only passenger I didn't know, a middle-aged man with headphones clamped over his ears who silently tapped his foot.

“How did you know it was run by crooks?” Peggy asked. She has a knack for cultivating discomfort in social situations.

“Because I used to work there,” said Big Eye as he gave a triumphant smile. “I was the altar boy! I went to the cops to tell them about the scam and, of course, the police chief was getting his cut from the so-called priests. The one blemish on my record is from me trying to be a goody-goody. That was a lesson. All the stuff I
should
have been locked up for since . . .”

The elevator stopped at our floor before Big Eye could provide an overview of his misdeeds. He had wanted to present himself as a savvy and sophisticated operator to Peggy but he blew it by gaping like a country bumpkin as the ornate double doors to Lee & Associates swung open.

“Oh, boy!” he couldn't help saying.

A man with square glasses and a long nose at the reception desk stood up and called, “Ms. Lee, is everything all right?” How many different secretaries did she have?

“Everything's great, Kenny,” she said. “This is Mei-ling's family. Well, her father and his friends.” Kenny nodded and settled back down like a good dog. Peggy said to us, “Let's go to my office.”

Whistle and Gao made sure to stand on either side of Big Eye. They let their guard down a bit, but in all fairness there was no room for a potential danger. Could there have been a scuba diver with a harpoon gun in the giant pond?