Pearls of Asia: A Love Story (18 page)

Mac was taken aback by Reyna’s response. “That’s the second time tonight I’ve heard about hormones. What’s up with that? Is it that time of the month or something?”

Reyna laughed out loud. “Honey, it’s a good thing you’re a hung like a fire hose, because for a cop you sure are naïve. Now pay attention. Girls like us take estrogen hormones to get our bodies used to the idea of being female, like softening our skin and promoting breast growth. They take care of things a scalpel and electrolysis won’t. Unfortunately, hormones can also make you go from an angelic princess to a blazing bitch in less than sixty seconds. You have to be careful, though. If you abuse them they can turn your liver into a weapon of mass destruction.”

“That’s interesting, because Diamond just told me she’s going to Mexico tonight to buy some hormones and get her hips pumped full of silicone.”

Reyna sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “I swear, sometimes I think Diamond’s dumber than a box of hair. She’s having a D.U.I. tonight.”

Mac flashed a double-dimpled grin at Reyna. “You girls and your lingo. I can’t understand a word when you speak Tagalog, and I can barely keep up when you speak English. What’s a D.U.I.?”

“‘Dramatically Under the Influence.’ Diamond got another hormone shot today. I do worry about that girl. Nothing is more important to her than chasing this mythical dream of becoming ‘flawless.’” Reyna used her fingers to mimic quotation marks. “Diamond takes an injection once a week when she should only be taking them once a month. Another side effect is what it does to your sex drive. Too many hormones in a girl’s body can make her libido as limp as an overdone linguine noodle. What remains of Diamond’s penis isn’t even worthy of the name.”

Mac was sitting on the edge of his chair, hanging on every word. “This is amazing, Reyna. Listening to you is better than watching the Discovery Channel.”

“Oh wait. There’s more. We girls also have an unofficial rule at
Pearls of Asia
. You must wear heels at least as tall as your…how shall I say this…‘equipment’. That’s why most of us wear these skyscraping heels you men are so fond of. But in Diamond’s case, she takes so many hormones she could get away with wearing flats.”

Mac howled in laughter. This was the kind of chatter he’d expect to hear in the precinct locker room. “So what does this have to do with Nadia? Why doesn’t she take hormones?”

“Because…well…let’s just say it’s bad for business. In Nadia’s case, if she could find nine-inch pumps in her size, she’d wear them.”

Nadia presented Mac his beer before she playfully sat down on Reyna’s lap. Seizing the moment to poke fun at her boob-challenged colleague, Reyna asked Mac a question. “Mac, do you know what a transvestite is?”

Mac shook his head.

“An ugly transsexual.”

THE LIGHTS DIMMED, AND
Mac recognized the song that soon rocked the room; “Bitch,” the signature tune by Meredith Brooks. Denise used to play it all the time back at their apartment in the Marina. Victoria Parker would later refer to it as “The Denise Fleet National Anthem.”

The statuesque girl in the middle of the stage was Ashley. She was wearing white hot pants, a wide white belt, and white thighhigh boots over a pair of legs so long and firm they could easily become a man’s best friend. Ashley danced like a Broadway showgirl, and the audience reacted as though they’d be willing to pay her a premium to have her walk all over them. As the last note played, Ashley jumped up high in the air, extended her legs, and pulled off a leg split worthy of an Olympic gymnast. The crowd rose to its feet and roared its approval. Mac was awestruck. It was the second time he had seen Ashley dance, and both times she had walked off to a standing ovation.

When the lights returned, Nadia was standing next to Mac holding two shots of whiskey. “Babe, I figured you would need one of these after watching her perform, so I brought enough for both of us. Isn’t Ashley sexy? Normally I don’t think blonde hair works on Filipinas, but it does on her.”

“She should come with a warning label,” Mac announced while knocking back his shot.

“You know what we say around here, babe? If good girls are sugar and spice, then Ashley is vodka and ice.”

Like every other customer at
Pearls of Asia,
Mac was still in awe of Ashley’s leg splitting talent. “I thought only a real girl could pull off doing the splits. What is she like in real life?”

“Ashley is quite the story, babe. Three years ago she was known as Mark Ashley, and he got kicked out of Beverly Hills High School for dealing ecstasy on campus. After he got his G.E.D., he shocked his parents and volunteered for the Army. That amazing pair of legs managed to survive a year in Afghanistan searching for land mines. He also looked fabulous in camouflage, and soon the guys in his platoon started to read the fine print in their ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ manuals. After he got discharged by both the Army and his parents, Mark Ashley decided to become Ashley Marks.”

“Are you joking?” proclaimed Mac. “That girl used to be a guy in the military? What a story. How did you find her?”

“Six months ago I took a client…I mean a ‘friend’…to a gay nightclub in West Hollywood. Ashley was one of the featured dancers. She had just started to transition, but it was clear she was going to be gorgeous. I mean, look at those lips, babe. She could suck start a Harley motorcycle. Anyway, this friend of mine became super infatuated with her, so I got to know her and became their matchmaker. He bought her those breasts as a birthday present.”

“Wait a second,” said Mac. “You mean to tell me some guy gave Ashley breast implants for her birthday?”

“Not for
her
birthday, babe. His.”

Mac asked Nadia for another beer. She casually strutted across the room as though she owned the place; fearless and confident in her own skin. Nadia knew exactly who she was, and she didn’t give a damn if anyone didn’t approve.

“Nadia, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?” asked Mac upon her return.

“I don’t give freebies, babe. Not even for hot looking cops.”

“No, no. I’m not going there. But I’m curious. Where do you girls hide it?”

“Hide what, babe?” Nadia flashed a knowing smile. She knew full well what Mac was talking about.

“You know. IT. How do you girls keep IT from bulging through your panties, or slipping out like an uncaged snake?”

“I’ve got a secret for you, babe. It’s called the power of duct tape. There’s enough of it in the dressing room to supply a hardware store. And it comes in all kinds of shapes and colors to match our outfits. Now let me ask you a question, babe. Is it true you’re sleeping with Sheyla?”

Mac squirmed in his chair and paused for a moment before answering. He never discussed details of a case with anyone outside the department, but what bothered him more was the nature of Nadia’s question. He had seen Sheyla just once, yet the girls at
Pearls of Asia
seemed to think they were already an item. They gossiped more than a sewing circle. “I’m not dating her, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Babe, you two had lunch together yesterday at The Grand Café, and you’re investigating the murder of her sugar daddy’s wife. In some countries that’s the same as saying ‘til death do you part.”

“Is nothing sacred in this place? So you know about Sheyla and Paul Osher?”

Nadia sat down on the bar stool next to Mac, taking a load off her Roberto Cavallis. “Are you kidding, babe? I’m the one who introduced them. Paul has been coming to
Pearls of Asia
since the place opened in 1998. He loves to bring his customers here. He figures they’ve already been to every fancy restaurant in the city, but they seldom remember where they went the next day. But bring them once to
Pearls of Asia,
where the food is fabulous and the scenery is sexy, and they’ll never forget it. It’s good business, babe, and if there is one thing I know,” she said, leaning in to whisper into Mac’s ear, “it’s business.”

“How well do you know Paul Osher?”

“That friend of mine I told you about? The one I took to that gay nightclub in West Hollywood? That was Paul.”

Mac was flabbergasted. “Time out, Nadia. You first called him a ‘client.’ Did you two date each other?”

“Babe, I’m not the kind of girl who likes to kiss and tell. Let’s just say that I date a lot of men. My dick is like a glue stick; once a man gets hold of it, it’s impossible to let go. To be honest, I know a lot of cops too, including some whose names you’d be surprised to hear. Very surprised.”

Mac couldn’t tell if Nadia was telling the truth or just trying to get a reaction. He was familiar with transvestite prostitutes who made a living walking the streets of the Tenderloin, but none of them came close to looking as natural, or being as well-spoken, as Nadia. Who on the force, he wondered, would be interested in a girl like her?

“Back to Paul Osher,” demanded Mac. “Why would you introduce him to Sheyla and then later introduce him to Ashley? My gut says something must have been in it for you.”

Nadia gave a hearty laugh. “Babe, you’re smart. I did it for the money, of course. Paul Osher has never met a tranny he didn’t like. Whenever I introduce him to a new girl, he pays me a very generous finder’s fee. For a while it was the perfect arrangement: Sheyla in Northern California and Ashley in Southern California. And babe, you should see the woman he has in New York. She’s a model.”

“I don’t understand,” questioned Mac. “Why would Ashley move to San Francisco? Wasn’t Osher taking care of her in Los Angeles like he takes care of Sheyla up here?”

“Not even close, babe. Ashley was living in a cramped Studio City dump with cockroaches for roommates. You’ve got to remember, babe. Sheyla’s been around the block a few times. She knows what a man wants from her, and she’s going to make them pay top dollar to get it. Ashley, meanwhile, is young and foolish, and for some crazy reason still believes in this ridiculous concept called love. Paul would throw her a bone every now and then when he went to L.A, and he even bought her a Louis Vuitton purse, which in our world is like a badge of honor. Ashley claims she moved to San Francisco to work at
Pearls of Asia
, but my guess is she did it to be closer to Paul. Big mistake, babe. Big mistake. Paul prefers his women cosmopolitan and sophisticated like Sheyla, not raw and naive like Ashley.”

Mac’s mind began working in overdrive. Paul Osher had dated Sheyla, Diamond, Ashley and Nadia: the
Pearls of Asia
version of the Grand Slam. “So what is Osher doing now that Sheyla and Ashley both live in the same zip code?”

“I have no idea, babe, although I was curious to see how he’d handle a wife and two girlfriends in the same city. Talk about your high-maintenance women. Juggling chainsaws might have been easier.”

“So would getting rid of one woman,” alleged Mac. He looked across the room and saw Ashley heading outside with a cigarette and a lighter. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she was just another…tall blonde from Los Angeles. He took another look at Nadia…a skinny brunette.

“Nadia, I’ve got one more question. The other night I asked you and Ashley where you two were on Thursday morning between the hours of one and two o’clock, and you both gave me answers that could have fertilized a garden in Golden Gate Park. We checked surveillance tapes from Paul Osher’s building and saw two women matching your descriptions entering and leaving that night. There was a party on the nineteenth floor, and witnesses who were there said two women crashed it; a tall blonde named Savannah, and a skinny brunette named Monique. Are you two the girls on the tape?”

The house music was loud enough to enjoy, but quiet enough to talk. The color of the walls morphed from amber to purple. Reyna was delivering a round of rainbow colored martinis, and Diamond was writing her phone number on a man’s business card. Nadia flipped her expensive faux hair over her shoulder before clearing the table.

“Of course we are.”

C
HAPTER
T
WELVE

Tuesday, September 16, 2008 - 6:45 am

“President George Bush sent Mark Leavitt, Secretary of Health and Human Services, to represent his administration at Michelle Osher’s funeral. Hank Paulson, Secretary of the Treasury, had planned to attend, but the ongoing crisis roiling the financial markets required his presence in New York.”