by Saba Kapur
Why was there a photo of me at The Dumpling Hospital?
Chapter Seven
“Are you sure that’s even me?”
“No, Gia. There’s just someone else who’s pretending to be you in your exact clothes, standing next to your parents at one of your dad’s movie premieres. Alert the feds! You have an imposter!”
“Is the sarcasm really necessary at this moment?”
“Oh come on, Gia. Denial isn’t going to get us anywhere.”
Speak for yourself, denial seemed like a pretty fantastic idea at that point. Jack and I were sitting on my bed, attempting to make sense of the photograph and the nametag I had managed to steal from the Dumpling Hospital. We hadn’t stuck around to eat our kidney stones; I had been too freaked out. And it was probably for the best anyway. I didn’t need a creepy stalker and violent urges to throw up. I hadn’t told my dad yet, and I assumed Jack hadn’t told Chris or Kenny. This was the perfect opportunity for Dad to lecture me about my “irresponsible behavior” for the millionth time that week, and I just wasn’t in the mood.
“So are we going to tell my dad?” I asked Jack, looking up from the photo to him nervously.
“Well, yeah I guess so.” He replied with a shrug. “I mean, legally I have to tell him.”
I groaned and said, “Do you have to? Like, can’t you just wait for a couple of days, or something? Just until we find out some more? He’s going to put me on lock-down mode if he finds out!”
Jack frowned. “Technically, I work for your dad, so I answer to him.”
“But you’re my bodyguard,” I told him, pushing the photo away from me in frustration. “Which means you should be protecting my body. And I need protecting against my father.”
“It doesn’t work like that, Gia.”
“Please?” I begged. “Just for like, a day? You can tell him everything after we go to the police tomorrow.”
Jack’s eyes widened. “Are you insane? You want to go to the police first and then tell your dad? He’s going to kill you! Hell, he’s going to kill me! Where’s my bodyguard, huh?”
“Look, I’ll deal with Dad when the time comes. Tomorrow we go to the police, tell them everything and then we can tell my father. That way, I have some more time to search for possible stalkers online, and Dad can’t go crazy on me because I was responsible and went to the police for help.”
Jack blinked at me, expressionless, and I narrowed my eyes as if to say what? He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if reasoning with himself not to completely lose it.
“You’re a lunatic!” Jack cried. “Like a full-fledged, certified crazy person! You can’t just Google possible stalkers! There’s not some kind of website or blog called Stalkers R Us, where everyone shares stories from their boundary challenged adventures!”
“Jack,” I said calmly. “This is the Internet we’re talking about. You’d be surprised at what you can find.”
“And secondly,” Jack continued, ignoring me. “You have school tomorrow. Where exactly does your perfect police plan fit in there, huh?”
I shrugged and said, “So we skip school. It’s not like I’ve never done it before.”
Jack put his head in his hands shook it lightly, as if he couldn’t believe he was actually having this conversation with me.
“Oh my God, you’re going to get me fired,” came his muffled voice from within his hands.
“Oh please!” I scoffed, and he looked up at me with another sigh. “You’ll be fine! Tomorrow we’ll tell Dad that we went to the Dumpling Hospital during school with the cast from the play. Like an excursion! See? Problem solved.”
“No.” Jack said incredulously. “Problem not solved! What play?”
“The play that Dad thinks we’re in at school!” I replied impatiently. “Never mind, you weren’t there for that part. So basically we say we went on a little trip with the cast, totally legit, and I just happened upon the picture and nametag so we went to the police. I mean, half of it is true.”
Jack rose from the bed, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t have this conversation anymore. I can actually feel parts of my brain shutting down.”
“You’re such a drama queen.”
Jack had one hand on the bedroom door as he swung around to face me with an exasperated expression on his face. “I don’t understand why we have to go to the police first!” he exclaimed. “What’s the point?”
“Because,” I said impatiently, placing the nametag and photo safely in my bedside table drawer. “Then it makes me seem responsible to my dad.”
“As opposed to telling him straight away which is completely careless?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow.
I put my hands on my hips, refusing to give up. Okay fine, he had a point. And let’s face it, I was no Veronica Mars. Finding answers on the Internet was far too hopeful, but admitting that to Jack was more painful than an appointment with the dentist.
“Fine!” I said, giving a defeated sigh. “Have it your way! Let’s go tell Dad.”
Jack followed me down the stairs and into the living room where Dad was pouring himself a glass of wine, an old edition of GQ magazine lying next to him.
“Hey daddy! Can I talk to you for a second?” I asked, taking a seat on the couch next to him. I smiled brightly as Jack stood next to me, hands in his jeans pockets. “Your hair looks fab by the way. Did you do something new?”
Dad put the wine bottle down on the coffee table and looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “What did you do now?”
“Excuse me?” I asked with a deeply offended look. “What makes you think I did something wrong?”
Dad looked at Jack and said, “What did she do now?”
“In this case, nothing actually,” Jack replied, as Dad took a big sip of his wine. “Well. Sort of.”
“‘Sort of’ is not reassuring,” Dad replied.
“Gia and I did some . . .” Jack paused and glanced at me. “Research, and found ourselves at the Dumpling Hospital this afternoon.”
“The Dumpling Hospital?” Dad repeated. “That creepy little restaurant in China Town? That place is a dump! What were you guys doing there?”
I looked at Jack, who gave me a tiny nod of encouragement. “Well,” I began, fiddling with my iPhone nervously. “I had a suspicion that the poisoned dumpling that Brendan ate was meant for me.”
“Why would you th—”
“So then,” I intervened, cutting him off before he started to grill me on specific facts. “I asked Jack to do some research and we found out that Brendan had ordered catering from the Dumpling Hospital. So after school today, Jack and I went to the restaurant just to check it out, and I was looking for the toilet when I came across this break room type of thing. So I went in there and found a picture of me, lying on the table in the room.”
I took a deep breath and leaned back expectantly. About ninety-seven percent of that had been true, which was a lot more than I thought I would blurt out. Dad gently placed his wine glass down and I glanced at Jack uncertainly. He opened his mouth to say something, probably in a yelling voice, but luckily the chime of the doorbell cut him off. Saved by the bell.
“I’ll get it!” I cried, jumping up and practically sprinting out of the room.
“Gia!” Dad called from behind me.
Stella was already near the door when I got there, but I told her I would get it and that she could continue going about her business, whatever that was.
“Mom?” I said, swinging the door completely open. “What are you doing here?”
“Hey, kiddo!”
If there’s one thing you should know about my mother, it’s this: she always looks amazing. To the point where you want to curl up under your blankets with a giant tub of Ben and Jerry’s ice-cream and Sex and the City reruns so that you can soothe your self-esteem back to a healthy level. Needless
to say, she was never allowed to come to a parent-teacher meeting. Not that she would have been into that anyway.
“Well, are you just going to stand here gaping at me or are you going to invite me in?” she asked, already pushing past me.
She spun on her velvet Prada pumps to face me, her blonde locks sliding gracefully over her shoulders.
“What are you doing here?” I repeated, closing the door behind me.
“I know, I know. I was supposed to get in tomorrow afternoon, but those morons canceled my meeting so I thought, why not take an early flight?” she said casually, handing me her handbag like I was a bellboy.
I took the bag from her and held it against my chest like it was a baby. “You were supposed to get in tomorrow?”
“Your father didn’t tell you I was coming? Typical. That man has the memory of a goldfish.” She paused, inspecting my face. “What happened to your hair?”
I put my free hand to the ends of my hair, lifting it up consciously. It looked normal to me. “Nothing. Why?”
Mom gave me a look that was almost sympathetic and said, “It looks a little dead at the tips. I’d put something in it, sweetie.”
Dad entered the main hall just as I did some frustrated eye rolling, and looked at my mother in surprise, wine glass in hand.
“Evelyn! I thought you were coming to stay with us tomorrow?” Dad asked, walking over and giving my mom a hug.
So that’s why I had to be prepared! Mom explained once more that her meeting with some director got canceled right as Jack walked in, and I immediately began to panic. If Mom hit on Jack, which she most likely would, I was pretty certain I would die. And if it wasn’t bad enough that my hot, forty-something mother was going to make a move on my hot, twenty-something bodyguard, she actually had a chance!
“Hi!” Mom greeted Jack with a bright smile. The smile of a lion right after he’s spotted his prey.
“Ev, this is Jack, he’s Gia’s bodyguard.” Dad introduced, and I looked at him in alarm.
“Dad!” I said sharply, giving him a quizzical look. “I thought we weren’t supposed to tell anyone about our bodyguards!”
“Yes, well I’m not just anyone, kiddo. I’m your mother,” Mom replied for him, eyes still on Jack.
“Nice to meet you Ms. Winters,” Jack said politely. “I’m a big fan of your movies.”
I dropped Mom’s bag to the floor. Of her movies? Yeah right. Mom was a former Playboy bunny. He was a fan of something else, for sure.
“Nice to meet you, Jack. I’m Evelyn, but you can call me Eve.”
I cringed, mentally praying that she wouldn’t crack some type of Adam and Eve sexual innuendo. Luckily, Mom decided to play it cool and took Dad’s wine glass from his hand, taking a sip as we all walked back into the living room. She stopped me just as we re-entered the room, pulling me to one side.
“What’s the deal with Jack?” she whispered. “Is he your boyfriend? I wouldn’t mind a piece of that.”
I resisted the urge to throw up and said, “Mom! I’m still dating Brendan, remember?”
“Still?” Mom asked, with a look of disappointment on her face. “Really? I mean he’s sweet and all. Great body too, but the boy is dumber than a box of hair.”
“Mom!”
“I’m just saying!”
“Well now that you’re here,” I said, looking hopeful. “Do you think we could have that mother-daughter spa session we never got around to last time?”
“Sweetheart I have so much on my plate this trip,” she said, and I pouted. “And I’m only here for a few days! But I promise I’ll try and squeeze you in.”
Well gee, just what every daughter wants to here. What an honor to be “squeezed” in to see your own mother. Mike suddenly appeared out of nowhere and Mom’s attention immediately diverted to him. She thrust the wine glass in my hand and ran right over to Mike, enveloping him in a big hug and ranting about how tall he was getting. All I got was a smile and a job as her personal bag-holder. I handed the glass back to Dad and sunk onto the sofa with a sigh. After a few seconds, Jack took a seat next to me.
“What are you all pouty about?” Jack asked, watching my parents talk.
“Just look at her! She’s perfect. She makes everyone look like dog food,” I said bitterly. “It’s so unfair.”
“Oh come on. You’re not too bad yourself.”
I cocked up an eyebrow. “Oh, really?” I said, turning to Jack.
OH MY LORD, BE STILL MY POOR HEART.
“Sure,” he replied, giving no indication that he was joking. “I know Chris is always going on about how hot you are.”
“Chris?” I exclaimed, giving him an incredulous look. “You mean Mike’s bodyguard, Chris? You mean Mr. Silence?”
Jack gave a light shrug. “Yeah. He was talking about it the other day. He asked me what I thought about you.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“And what did you say?”
Actually, I wasn’t sure I was really ready to hear the answer to that. Jack’s grin formed slowly, but he didn’t say anything to add to it.
“Gia!” Dad said suddenly, and I snapped my attention back to my parents. “I think it’s time to resume our little conversation, don’t you think?”
“Ooo!” Mom said, looking almost excited. She lowered herself onto one of the throne chairs. “Your dad has his strict parent voice on. What did you do wrong?”
“Is Gia getting in trouble?” Mike asked, looking up from his phone.
“No,” I said, glaring at him.
“Yes,” Dad said at the same time, and I sighed.
“I didn’t even do anything wrong! If anything, I helped us. Now we have more clues about this Dr. D person.”
“Wait, somebody fill me in,” Mom said, wide eyed as though she were watching her favorite soap opera.
“Your daughter received a text message last week from somebody named Dr. D. It said he was ‘always watching,’” Dad told her.
“What?” Mom cried, turning to me with a look of disbelief.
“And don’t forget the creepy phone calls,” Mike added.
“Right,” Dad said, as I shot Mike a death glare. “And she’s been getting suspicious phone calls.”
“Gia, honey!” Mom said. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes,” I said.
“No,” Dad said at the same time.
“So what happened?” Mom asked, crossing a perfectly toned leg over the other.
I rolled my eyes and said, “Brendan got poisoned and Jack and I went to the place that supplied the food. At the restaurant, I snuck into a room that had a picture of me lying on the table, so I took it. Along with a nametag of one of the employees.”
“That’s badass!” Mom said.
“No!” Dad shot back. “It was wildly dangerous!”
“But still helpful!” I argued.
“Is that why you were dressed like a weirdo?” Mike asked me. “Anya said you looked ridiculous.”
“Okay,” Mom cut in before I could reply, clearly trying to calm us all down. “So what are we going to do about it now?”
“Gia wants to go to the police tomorrow,” Jack replied for me, finally speaking up during the argument. “We’ll give them the nametag and the picture, and hopefully they can do something about it.”
“Well alright then,” Mom said, shrugging. “So it’s settled. Jack and Gia will go to the police tomorrow.”
“I’m not going to le—” Dad started, but Mom cut him off.
“This isn’t your problem, Harry. You can trust our daughter enough to go to the police station and responsibly deal with this whole thing. She’s practically an adult now! Besides, she has Jack.”
“Yes, bu—”
“Here!” Mom said, reaching for the wine bottle. “Have s
ome more wine. Take a chill pill.”
Dad sighed but didn’t argue anymore, even though he was mumbling under his breath. Mom winked at me, and I gave her a relieved sigh. I really missed having one fun parent, as frustratingly attractive, busy and, at times, inappropriate as she was.
Mike, after noticing that Dad was in fact not getting mad at me, got bored and left the room. My parents began talking about the bodyguards, a conversation Jack and I politely stayed and listened to for about two minutes before we too left the room.
“Well that went well,” I said sarcastically, climbing onto the first step of the stairs.
“Could have been worse,” Jack said. “At least your mom helped.”
“Yeah, about that,” I said, taking a seat on one of the marble steps. I looked up at Jack, who was still standing in front of me. “She can be a little . . .”
“What?” Jack said, but he was smiling so I knew he knew what I meant.
“Forward,” I finished lamely. “I’d watch out for that one.”
My phone buzzed in my hand before Jack could reply. The screen told me I had a new text message from an unknown number. It was either Dr. D, or Channing Tatum was messaging me to let me know he had left his wife for me. Unfortunately, the first option seemed to be more likely.
“Who’s it from?” Jack asked, watching me expectantly.
“It doesn’t say.”
“Well,” Jack said, eyeing the screen. “Go on. Open it.”
I obediently opened the message, biting my lip. It read:
I spy with my little eye, something beginning with T.
Okay, so it wasn’t terrible. I still had a chance with my Channing Tatum fantasy. I mean, he could have been talking about anything really. Like tacos, or Tiffany and Co. Jack leaned in close and read the message, while I focused on not inhaling too much of his cologne. He smelled amazing, as usual. Seriously, I needed to sneak into his room when he was asleep and just spray that scent all over me.
“This one isn’t signed off,” Jack said. “Maybe it isn’t him.”
As if perfectly timed, the phone buzzed again as a picture message sent through.
