by Saba Kapur
I glanced at the Dumpling Hospital with a grimace. “I changed my mind. Take me home.”
“No.”
“What do you mean ‘no’? Look at this place! Look at what we’re wearing! Look at what you’re wearing! I’m not leaving this car.”
“Yo woman! I ain’t gon’ hear no crazy talk from you!” Jack replied, bobbing his head so aggressively that his hat almost slid of his head.
I gave him an incredulous look and said, “Are you having a seizure or something? What the hell was that?”
“It was my gangster talk! I’m getting into character.”
“Oh my God, we’re going to die in this place.”
“Well,” Jack said cheerfully, pushing open the car door. “No time like the present.”
There wasn’t going to be much more of a present if we went in there. I groaned and pushed my car door open, stepping out in my far too expensive shoes.
“Jack, there’s no one here!” I cried, staying as close to the car as possible. “Look around. It’s all deserted! They probably killed them all inside!”
“Gia, don’t be such a drama queen. There’s a family going in right now. See? They have little kids with them and everything!”
I followed his gaze toward a family walking into the restaurant. There were two parents and three little boys. One of the boys had a little action figure in his hand, but I couldn’t tell who it was from the distance. He was waving it around in the air and yelling out “DIE. I KILL YOU.” I spun back around in panic and slammed right into Jack, my arm roughly brushing against the cold chains hanging around his neck.
“Are you insane?” I cried. “Even the kids are violent! It’s a breeding ground for serial killers, I’m telling you!”
Jack rolled his eyes and grabbed onto my hand, firmly walking toward the restaurant as his chains clanked against each other.
“Come on, Princess,” he said in a bored voice, practically dragging me through the entrance doors. “I won’t let the mean little kids touch you, don’t worry.”
“Hi, welcome to the Dumpling Hospital.” A young Asian girl with a hint of an accent greeted us as we walked in.
She was dressed as a nurse and stood behind a small podium that read Reception. She had a name-tag attached to her outfit that read Cindy.
“Yo!” Jack said, releasing my hand and forming his fingers into a peace sign. “We’d like a table yo. For like, two, yo,” Jack told her.
“Just you two?” She asked uncertainly, eyeing us up and down. She looked half amused, half scared.
“Uh, yeah. That’s what I said, dog. Ya feel?”
“Uh, follow me please,” she replied, and I knew she was judging us big time in her mind.
“Ease up on the homie talk!” I hissed to Jack. “And a peace sign? Really?”
“It’s what homies do, Gia!” He whispered back fiercely.
“No it’s not!”
“Oh, forgive me. I’m not exactly fluent in gangster sign language, you know!”
“Here you are,” the waitress said, motioning to the booth to her right.
“Thanks, G,” Jack replied, holding out his fist as if encouraging her to bump it against hers. She didn’t.
“We’ll take a minute to order,” I said, yanking Jack’s arms down and forcibly sliding him into the booth.
She sized us up once more, her gaze lingering on the pimp shoes planted on Jack’s feet, before finally turning on her heel and walking away.
“Would you relax?” I snapped the moment she was far enough. “She thinks we’re crazy!”
“She works at a restaurant modeled after a hospital, and we’re the crazy ones?” Jack replied, adjusting his chains.
Well, there was no arguing with that. I picked up a menu and scanned the surroundings. The Dumpling Hospital was a seriously messed up place, but you had to give it points for creativity. The tables were long and had pale blue tablecloths over them, so they looked like gurneys without wheels. Above the kitchen door there was a sign that said “Operating Room” and all the waitresses were dressed in white nurse uniforms and the waiters in scrubs. I took a wild guess that the chefs were dressed as doctors, and was actually surprised at how impressed I suddenly was with the décor. All creepiness and shabby furniture aside, it had something cool about it. But the restaurant wasn’t particularly full, even though it was getting close to dinnertime, which told me the place wasn’t doing too well. It wasn’t very large either, and I doubted it would fit more than thirty people at most.
“Hi, I take order please?” A young “nurse” asked me, her ponytail swishing to and fro. Her accent was heavy and her English was clearly broken, but I could make out what she had asked.
“Uh, sure,” I said, picking up the menu.
I looked down at it with a frown. The paper looked like it had been printed a million years ago and I hadn’t thought to bring any hand sanitizer. Not only was I probably going to get food poisoning, they were going to throw in tetanus for free. The top of the menu read Dumpling Hospital—Dumplings are the best medicine. I ran my finger down the list of dishes and looked at the waitress who was tapping her foot impatiently.
“Could I please have a—” Jack, who was kicking me under the table, cut me short. He shot me a look that told me I was out of character and I cleared my throat. “Oh right. I mean, girl, what’s your special today?” I exclaimed, startling the waitress with my fake ghetto accent.
“Dear God,” I heard Jack whisper, closing his eyes.
She mumbled something and pointed to the top of the menu. I looked down at where her finger was pointing. It read:
Kong Bao Kidney Stones—served with rice
I re-read the special dish two more times just so I was sure that I hadn’t made a mistake, and looked up at the waitress uncertainly.
“Great,” I said, with zero enthusiasm. “I’ll have one of those, please.”
Jack ordered the “Guong Zhou Gallbladder,” matching my lack of excitement at the dish names. The waitress directed us to the self-serve cutlery area before taking one last long look at our outfits, and finally walking away.
“Okay,” Jack said in a hushed voice, as we both leaned in. “I want you to go to the self-serve place and pretend to get us plates and spoons and forks and stuff, but take a look around while you’re walking up.”
“Got it.” I nodded. “Wait a minute. Why do I have to do it? I’m the one being targeted here!”
“You literally have to walk three yards. No one’s going to jump up and attack you, I promise.”
“Boy you’re going to be so sorry if that isn’t true.”
“We’ll deal with that if it happens. Now go pretend to get us stuff! But actually do get cutlery, because we need it to eat our kidney stones.”
“I’m not actually eating any of this!” I exclaimed, surprised that he even thought that was a possibility. “What if it’s poisoned?”
“Do you want to say that any louder?” Jack asked, and I scowled. “Just go get some cutlery!”
I glared at him and begrudgingly slid out of the booth, catching a glimpse of Jack’s shoes in the process.
“Remind me again why we’re dressed like this?” I said, frowning as he adjusted his snapback with frustrating amusement.
“I’m going to be really honest here,” he said with a smile. “I was totally just messing around with the costumes and I never thought you’d go along with it. But it turns out, keeping up the act was way more fun!”
I rested my palms flat onto the gurney and leaned in toward Jack, eyes narrowed. “So you’re saying I’m dressed like the female version of Vanilla Ice for fun?”
Jack blinked back at me, expressionless. “Well, yeah.”
I did some quick reasoning with myself and decided slapping Jack was probably not a good idea. For one, it would draw more attention to u
s, and we didn’t need any more attention in those outfits. Secondly, it would probably come up later if Jack and I ever decided to fall in love. But the chances of that happening were looking slimmer than shady at the given moment. Grumbling to myself, I stalked off toward the cutlery, smoothing down my marshmallow jacket as best as I could. A waiter dressed in “scrubs” was refilling the small baskets when I approached. He looked up at me and dropped a bundle of forks into the tub in surprise, causing them to make a loud clattering sound. He was most likely just taken aback by my outfit, but his eyes widened as if he recognized me. I tried to act cool, convincing myself that he probably didn’t know who I was. I doubted he even knew who I was without the homie gear. There was no way he was recognizing me with it on.
“‘Sup?” I asked him casually, bobbing my head back and forth in an attempt to seem tough and street.
He just looked at me blankly, before silently readjusting the forks and walking away. I turned back to look at Jack, who was immersed in the menu. Some bodyguard he was. I could have been kidnapped and transported to Yemen by now and he hadn’t even glanced at me yet. I picked up two spoons and forks, made sure no one was watching me, and casually walked behind the cutlery bench, where there was a door that read “Staff Only” directly behind. A couple steps forward revealed a dimly lit hallway to the right, conveniently out of the patrons’ sight.
I was guessing diners weren’t meant to be back this far, which made it the perfect place for an evil genius to set up shop, and the perfect opportunity to bust out some Homeland worthy spy moves. I looked around carefully to make sure no one was watching me and I took a step toward the deserted hallway. To my surprise, my heel had barely made contact with the floor before the sound of Soulja Boy escaped from beside me somewhere. I immediately backtracked out into the main dining area, where people were beginning to stare at me with confused and judgemental looks. I threw my palms up as if to say it’s not me, I swear but the vibrating in my skirt pocket told me otherwise.
Pulling out my phone, I did some big time death glaring at Jack, who was now in uncontrollable fits of laughter. Shoot. It was Dad calling. I blew out a sigh and turned my phone on silent, allowing it to continue buzzing. Slipping it back into my pocket, I stalked toward Jack, spoons and forks in hand.
“Don’t,” I said, putting the cutlery down with more force than required. “Touch. My. Phone. Ever.”
Jack, who was having a hard time composing himself, said, “I’m sorry. It was just such an easy target!”
“I can’t believe you bought that stupid song just to change my ringtone!” I exclaimed. “What are you, three years old?”
Jack responded with more laughter, as I crossed my arms over my chest and did some more glaring.
“Okay,” Jack finally said, his laughter dying down. “I promise. No more ringtone pranks.”
“Anyway, forget that right now!” I leaned down close to him, lowering my voice. “I need your help.”
Jack, still smiling, said, “With what?”
“There’s a creepy hallway at the back of this restaurant with a room at the end of it. And I want to know what’s in there.”
Jack looked at me incredulously, all traces of laughter instantly disappearing. “Are you insane?”
“Shhh!”
Jack lowered his voice, but his expression remained the same. “Gia, I’m not helping you sneak into some random room!”
“You promised me you’d help me investigate! That was the deal.”
“Yeah, and I drove you here, didn’t I? That’s helpful.”
I rolled my eyes and said, “Oh come on! You were the one who told me to look around! Well I did, and I found something.”
“Yeah bu—”
“Do you want your great driving abilities to go to waste?” I added, pulling out my famous puppy dog eyes. “I’ll be quick, I swear.”
Jack did some frustrated sighing and fiddled with his hat while he considered his options. I tapped my foot impatiently as I waited for the inevitable to occur.
“Fine!” he said finally, looking less than pleased. “What do I have to do?”
I turned to look over my shoulder, cocking my head toward the waiter that had been at the cutlery station. He was serving a table on the far side of the room, but kept glancing over at us.
“You see that guy over there?” I said, and Jack nodded. “Distract him so I can sneak into the room.”
“What if someone else sees you?” Jack asked. “I can’t distract all the waiters in here!”
“Yeah, but he’s the only one who keeps looking over here. No one else cares.”
“Maybe he keeps looking over here because we’re dressed like idiots.”
I put my hands on my hips and said, “And whose fault is that?”
“Alright fine, whatever!” Jack exclaimed, sliding out of the booth. “But make it quick! I mean it.”
I smugly watched him walk toward the waiter, mumbling something as he repositioned his chains. The waiter was now near the kitchen, which unfortunately was located opposite the patron-restricted door, and of course, the secret hallway. Jack was going to have to do some major distracting if I was going to sneak past unnoticed.
As casually as I could, I weaved my way through the restaurant, smiling innocently at all the families who were enjoying their potentially poisonous meals. Practically tip-toeing toward the cutlery station, I watched Jack approach the waiter.
“Uh, hey man,” I heard Jack say. He clapped his hand over the waiter’s back and turned him in the direction of the kitchen, keeping me out of sight. “I was just wondering if you got a toilet, ya know what I’m sayin? ‘Cause them kidney stones ain’t settling well, ya feel? A brotha can’t handle it.”
What was I so worried about? The boy was a freaking natural. Jack turned his head ever so slightly and caught my eye. I clapped a hand over my mouth to stop the laughter from escaping, and he widened his eyes at me in disbelief. He mouthed go!
“Uh . . .” The waiter began, attempting to turn his head. But Jack was too quick, and directed his attention back toward the kitchen.
“Is it over there?” he asked, randomly pointing to nowhere in particularly.
Alright Gia, go time. Now even if the waiter turned around, he wouldn’t be able to see me. Phew. I stared down at the hallway, biting on my lip. So it was just a creepy ass hallway with minimal lighting in a sketchy restaurant that may or may not have poisoned my boyfriend with a dumpling that was actually meant for me. No biggie.
I took a deep breath and told myself not to be such a wimp. I mean, it was possible to have incredible hair and still be badass. Just ask Charlie’s Angels. I had made it about halfway down the hallway when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket once more.
“Oh for cryin’ out loud!” I mumbled, pulling it out. It was my dad, calling again. “Hello?”
“Gia, where are you?”
“Oh, hey Dad! How’s it hanging?”
“Where are you? And why are you whispering?”
“I’m, uh, picking up lunch for Brendan. He gets discharged today.” I said, cautiously taking another step forward. “I’m talking quietly because . . .” I trailed off, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
He didn’t. “Anya said you were in a play?”
“Oh, right!” I cried, smacking the heel of my palm against my forward in realization. “Yeah. I’m picking up lunch for Brendan and I’m in a play.”
I really need to step up my lying game. This was pathetic.
“Oh really?” Dad replied. “Which one?”
“Um . . .” Shit. Why couldn’t I think of any plays! “Macbeth?”
“Macbeth.” Dad repeated, clearly not buying anything I was throwing his way. “Really? Who do you play?”
I rolled my eyes in frustration. The man was practically a trained interrogator. “Uh, I play Macbeth.”
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“Macbeth. The male lead, Macbeth.”
“Dad,” I said, feigning a disappointed tone. “Our school doesn’t discriminate based on gender. Frankly I’m offended by th—”
“Gia, come home. You’re grounded remember? I was picking you up from the hospital just last night, and you’re already off God knows where with God knows who!”
“I’ll be home soon, jeez!”
Dad continued to drone on about how inappropriate my behavior was, but I was barely paying attention because I had finally reached the end of the long hallway and was standing in front of a small, dimly lit room.
“Gia, are you even listening to a word I’m saying?” Dad’s voice rung in my ears.
“Of course I am.” I lied and peeked into the room.
“Good, because I really need you to be prepared. You know it’s always chaotic with her.”
“Prepared?” I said quietly into the phone, scanning the room for anyone secretly hiding in the shadows. All clear.
“Yes, prepared! So, tomorrow at—”
“Dad, hang on a second.” I cut him off and covered my phone with my hand.
“Hello?” I called out softly into the room. No reply. I found a light switch next to me on the wall and I flicked it.
“Gia, tomorrow at one. Be ready.” Dad simply said as I put the phone back to my ear.
“Got it. Bye Dad,” I said, cutting the phone before he could say anything else.
The room was empty with barren walls, except for a small coffee table and three plastic chairs. It looked like some sort of room available to employees on their lunch breaks, but it was so empty I couldn’t seem to find any plausible use for it.
I hurried over to the table, which had a half-empty glass in it, its contents resembling green tea. Next to the glass was a photograph and a nametag. The nametag read Ao Jie Kai, a name that I knew I would have trouble remembering when I recounted my findings to Jack. I put the nametag down and picked up the photograph, almost immediately dropping it back on the table in surprise.
No. There was no way. It couldn’t be. Yet there it was. There was no doubting who was in the picture, but why it was in the room was still a question.
