“It’s beautiful.”
As I kissed Baba cheek, Po-Po and Gung-Gung emerged from the house.
Po-Po scanned the patio, the bar, the cheese and fruit table, then frowned. “Where are all the people?”
Gung-Gung checked his watch. “It’s past seven. Maybe they’re not coming.”
“They’re coming,” I said. “This is Los Angeles. People like to be fashionably late.”
Po-Po’s eyes grew round with concern. “Maybe they don’t respect our daughter.”
I grabbed Baba’s wrist and checked his watch. “It’s seven-oh-five.”
Gung-Gung snorted. “Late is late.”
“It’s true,” Po-Po agreed.
I opened my mouth to argue, but Baba beat me to it.
“Yu Ying, you look so lovely tonight, Vi’s friends will think you’re her sister.”
Po-Po blushed and waved her hand dismissively. “Bin do hai ne?” she said in Cantonese. Where is it? Where is it? As if to say, she could see nothing about herself to be worthy of Baba’s thanks.
I smiled. Leave it to Baba to diffuse my anger and win points with my grandmother.
I slipped my arm in Po-Po’s and kissed her cheek. “It’s true. In fact, I think we make a fine-looking family.”
Po-Po patted my hand.
Gung-Gung snorted. “Where’s your mother?”
“Right behind you,” Ma said, gliding onto the patio.
As lovely as Po-Po looked in her rose and gray Chinese-cut tunic and skirt, no one would ever mistake her for Ma’s sister. Ma’s ageless beauty was in a class of its own.
Baba’s eyes shone with adoration. “Vi…” He shook his head in wonder. “I don’t know what to say.”
Ma didn’t answer, but her mouth curled with a hint of a smile.
She looked like a queen in her emerald crêpe dress, tailored to perfection in Asian-inspired lines and stopping just above her graceful calves. Embroidered chrysanthemums in shades of blue, green, and violet swept up from one side of the hem to her waist and reappeared at her collar, over which sleek black hair draped in gentle curls. The effect was both regal and youthful, understated yet exquisite, especially when accented by her trademark jade and diamond earrings, wedding ring, and Sì Xiàng bracelet.
I glanced at the Sì Xiàng bracelet on my own wrist and ran my fingers across the carved bird on the red jade segment. Unlike Ma’s single barrel of deep green jade, the bracelet Gung-Gung had given me was divided into four segments of different colored jade joined by gold links. Each segment corresponded to one of the four divisions of the twenty-eight constellations: Azure Dragon, White Tiger, Vermilion Bird, and Black Tortoise. The guardian animals on my bracelet had been carved onto the appropriate color of jade.
Gung-Gung followed my gaze and nodded approvingly. “You wore my bracelet.”
I smiled at his possessive nature: Gung-Gung was always quick to claim ownership. I kissed his cheek. “Special occasions require precious jewelry.”
He puffed up with pride.
Po-Po brushed Ma’s hair behind her shoulder. “You’d look more elegant if you swept your hair up like mine.”
Ma’s smile tightened. “I don’t think so.”
“Are you sure?” Po-Po glanced around the empty patio then added in Cantonese. “No one’s here. I’m sure we’d have plenty of time.”
The doorbell rang, and Ma’s expression changed from controlled anger to smug satisfaction. “If you’ll excuse me, I have guests to greet.”
Baba pulled me aside as my grandparents went to inspect the cheese and fruit. “What was that about?”
I shrugged. “Oh, you know, Wong women at their best.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.” I squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry about it. Go greet Ma’s guests. I’ll smooth the waters with Po-Po and Gung-Gung.”
Baba kissed my forehead. “You’re a good daughter.”
“Ha. Tell that to Ma.”
The doorbell rang again, and new voices added to the murmuring crowd. Apparently, the window for fashionably late was markedly smaller in Ma’s generation than in mine. Across the patio, my grandparents examined each brick of cheese, angling their heads this way and that as if searching for flaws. The sooner this patio filled with guests the better.
“Would you like something to drink?” I asked. “There’s California wine, French champagne, and a Hong Kong baijiu punch.”
Gung-Gung’s brows raised with interest. “Moutai baijiu?”
“What else? Blended with lychee, raspberry, lemongrass, champagne, citrus, and frothed egg whites. Would you like to try it?”
“I suppose.”
I smirked and led them to the bar. Gung-Gung had a thing for sweet cocktails and fiery sorghum liquor. Score one point for Ma.
As the bartender prepared their drinks, a wave of happy guests spilled outside, marveling in excited voices as they took in the splendor. Score two points for Ma.
I would have stayed to gloat, but the crowd parted to reveal Daniel framed by the open double doors. He had dressed for the occasion in a tailored black suit and a white Mandarin-collared shirt, which, combined with his tall model’s physique, gave him the glam of a Hong Kong movie star. Mothers eyed him surreptitiously, no doubt measuring the chances their single daughters might have and how to go about inviting Daniel to their own parties. Then his eyes spotted mine, and everyone else faded away.
A server presented a tray of colorful canapés. “Capelin caviar and tuna tartare on toast?”
“Um…no, thank you.” As tempting as they were, I had another dish in mind. But when I looked back to find him, the crowd had filled in the gap. “On second thought,” I said, catching the server before she disappeared. “These look too good to pass up.”
I sighed with delight as I bit into the heavenly pairing of raw fish and roe. I should have taken two. But when I turned toward the server, hoping to pluck another stacked morsel from her tray, I came face-to-chest with Daniel and swallowed the wrong way.
I waved away his concern as I struggled to breathe then nodded vigorously as he asked if I was okay. Why did people do that? Did they actually believe someone could pause their suffocation long enough to answer?
Once I had sorted out my food and air issues, I attempted to smile. “Sorry about that.”
“No. I shouldn’t have asked you questions while you were trying to breathe. Are you okay now?”
“Yes. You just startled me.”
He laughed then glanced at the half-canapé still in my hand. “I can stay quiet if you’d like to finish that.”
I crumpled it in the napkin. “I’ve had enough.”
“You sure? I know how you like to eat.”
“Hey. I’m dressed like a grownup tonight. No snarky comments.”
He held out his hands for peace. “I meant it in the most appreciative of ways.”
“Well in that case…”
I beckoned the next server and snagged a foie gras éclair. Daniel took one, as well, and we shared a moment of epicurean delight.
I nibbled a pastry flake off my finger. “Glad you came?”
His eyes crinkled. “Are you kidding? And miss the social event of the summer? What did your mother do, fly in a chef from Paris?”
“I wouldn’t put it past her.”
“Well, she deserves to celebrate. This is a big birthday. Although, she doesn’t look like any fifty-year-old I’ve ever met.”
We glanced at Ma, holding court in front of the lovely stone waterfall Baba had built especially for this occasion. Had he known what dress she would wear and how the flowing water and natural stone would compliment it?
“She’s enchanted. In fact, I’m pretty sure she’s not even human. Probably a legendary princess from Chinese mythology come to life, right here in Arcadia, to make the rest of us look woefully average.”
“Then she failed because you are neither woeful nor average.
”
I turned back to Daniel, quip at the ready, and ran into his cheerful brown eyes. “Dang, boy. You really know what to say.”
“Not hard when I’m looking at you.”
Pleased yet embarrassed, I fiddled with my cocktail napkin, folding it with great deliberation. When my emotions felt properly under control, I held up the transformed napkin for inspection.
“What is it?” he asked.
“A penguin.”
He laughed.
“Hey, don’t judge.”
“I’m not. Promise. May I have it?”
I cupped the origami bird, protectively. “I don’t know. She’s very precious to me.”
“She?”
“Of course. Why would I spend this much time on a boy?”
He grinned, shooting me with that high-voltage intensity. “Because he’s dashingly handsome?”
I shrugged, determined to keep my cool. “This city has lots of pretty birds.”
“Ones who are crazy about you?”
I bit my lip to keep from smiling, but my cheeks betrayed me, rising into balls that hurt my face. What was happening to me? I couldn’t possibly fall for Mr. Perfect Chinese Son.
“Ma doesn’t approve of crazy boys.”
“Then we shouldn’t tell her.”
“Really? And here I thought you always followed the rules.”
“Only the ones that count.” He plucked the penguin from my hands and stuck it in the pocket of his blazer so the beak peaked over the edge.
Sexy and cute? This guy was trouble.
Daniel gestured toward the bar. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Water would be good.”
As we moved through the crowd, I felt his energy radiating against my back. The heat of it shortened my breath and flushed my face. How would it feel to have his body pressed against mine? Pelvis to hips? Chest against back?
When a couple moved into my path, I paused long enough for Daniel to walk into me and felt his warmth envelope every curve and space of my back. We fit together like nesting plates.
His face brushed against the side of my head in a soft caress. “Your mother has a lot of friends.”
“Yes.”
I struggled to keep still, fearing that, once begun, my body would move of its own accord and never stop.
“I’m glad I came,” he said, pressing a little closer and making me gasp.
“Me, too.”
The people in front of us moved on, taking our excuse to linger. I glanced behind me and smiled. “I could use that water now.”
“With ice?”
I laughed. “A bucket full.”
And then my grandmother screamed.
Chapter
Thirty-One
The crowd went quiet as everyone turned toward the other side of the patio to see what had happened. Guests hid Po-Po’s small body from view, but I glimpsed her rose and gray skirt—and the soles of a man’s shoes, toes up, as he lay on the patio tiles.
“Gung-Gung!”
I hurried to my grandfather, pushing Ma’s guests aside. Po-Po flung her arms around me, chattering in Cantonese way too fast for me to understand.
“Po-Po, let go. I need to help Gung-Gung.”
“I don’t need your help,” Gung-Gung said, standing a few feet away. He pointed at the man lying on the ground. “He does.”
Relief clashed with confusion as I knelt to help the unconscious guest.
“Sir? Can you hear me?” I placed my hand on his forehead and tipped his chin up to clear his airways, then leaned my ear close to his nose to listen and feel for breath.
“He’s breathing. What happened to him?” I asked, as I arranged his arms and hands so I could roll him onto his side into the recovery position.
Gung-Gung shrugged. “Can’t hold his liquor.”
“My, God,” Ma said, kneeling beside me. “It’s Rudy Leong.” She glared at Gung-Gung. “What did you do, Ba?”
Gung-Gung swayed precariously as he extended his arms out to the side. “I didn’t do anything. We were drinking. Can I help it if I have the capacity of the sea and this man’s stomach is as shallow as a puddle?”
“Hold still, Shaozu,” Po-Po scolded, grabbing onto his arm with both hands. “You drank too much punch. Now look at you.”
“All of this is from punch?” Ma asked.
Gung-Gung scoffed. “Don’t be silly. We drank shots of baijiu like men.”
“He’s coming to,” I said. “Mr. Leong? Can you hear me?”
The man rolled his head in confusion. “Huh? What am I doing on the ground. Violet? Who is this girl?”
Ma patted his arm. “Shhh. It’s okay, Rudy. This is my daughter Lily. You passed out from drinking baijiu with my father. Do you think you can sit up?”
“Um…I think so.”
Baba kneeled beside us and supported the man’s back as he sat. Then he smiled reassuringly at the guests. “Not to worry, folks. He’ll be upside-right in no time.”
Ma patted Baba’s shoulder in thanks and rose with the deadly grace of a missile. With eyes locked on her target, she aimed for Gung-Gung and steered him toward the stone barbecue away from her guests. Not wanting to miss an epic explosion—especially one not directed at me—I followed.
“What were you thinking, exchanging shots with my biggest client?”
“Your biggest client? Last I checked, I run Hong Kong International Finance.”
“And I run your Los Angeles division.”
Gung-Gung swayed as he wiped the air with his hand. “Doesn’t matter. I’m the boss. This man didn’t even know who I was.”
“And why should he? It’s the company name that’s important. Rudy Leong has confidence HKIF. He has confidence in me.”
“Ha!” Gung-Gung said, falling backward against the stone barbeque. “You think too highly of yourself. This Leong fellow would trust anyone I put in charge.”
Ma’s jaw clenched as she fought to control her anger. “I disagree.”
“So what? This is about business and respect. You should have introduced me to him right away. Instead, I find out from him that he’s investing with my company, as if he’s giving me some hot financial tip. Do have any idea how disrespectful that is? The man needed to know me—the founder not the employee.” Gung-Gung smirked. “And I made sure he did.”
Ma closed her eyes and breathed. I’d never seen her this angry—nor work so hard to control it. When she finally opened her eyes, she appeared calm and strong.
“You’re from Hong Kong, so you don’t understand what it is to be American. Rudy Leong, on the other hand, was born and raised in California and has never even traveled to China, let alone Hong Kong. He doesn’t know about our drinking culture. He doesn’t revere the owners of companies simply because they are male. To him, you are just the father of his trusted advisor, the founder who has probably long since retired and given his company over to younger, smarter people to run. You think you gained his respect? No. You embarrassed him in front of his peers and in front of me.”
Gung-Gung’s bloodshot eyes widened in shock. Would he remember Ma’s insults when the baijiu wore off? Either way, Ma might be looking for a new job and a new place to live very soon.
“Violet? I’m sorry to bother you,” Mr. Leong said, touching my mother’s arm. “I’m going to head home. I’m so sorry for…” He circled his hand in the direction of the incident. “I don’t know what happened. Guess I should have eaten more pâté.” He chuckled. “Anyway, I’m mortified. Please forgive me.”
Ma took his hands in hers. “Forgiveness is unnecessary. It could happen to anyone. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
Mr. Leong sighed with relief. Then he held up a hand toward Gung-Gung. “It was nice to meet you Mr. Wong. You have a gracious daughter with a brilliant mind, who I hope will soon forget my foolishness.”
“Already forgotten,” Ma said, and linked her arm in his.
“I have a driver outside who can take you home.”
“I don’t want to be any bother.”
“Nonsense. I hired him so my guests could feel free to enjoy themselves.”
Mr. Leong turned to Gung-Gung. “You see? This is why I invest with your daughter—she’s always thinking ahead.” He locked arms with Ma and walked away.
I backed farther into the garden, where the lights didn’t shine, and watched as my grandfather seethed.
Po-Po tugged at his jacket and spoke quietly in Cantonese. “Shaozu, it’s time for you to sleep. I’ve had enough of parties. I want to go to bed. And so should you.”
“Our daughter has no respect.”
“Don’t be silly. You’re the one who drank too much, not her. We didn’t fly all this way for you to embarrass yourself. We came to celebrate Violet.”
“Did we?”
“Why else would we have come?”
Gung-Gung shook his head, and frowned.
As I followed my grandparents into the house and watched as they climbed the stairs, Daniel came up beside me.
“Is everything all right?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Is it Mr. Leong? Because I saw him walk out with your mother. He seemed okay.”
“He’ll be fine.”
I glanced up the staircase at Gung-Gung, leaning on Po-Po, as he wobbled out of sight. His last two words stuck in my mind. Did we? What had he meant by that? What other reasons could he have for coming to Los Angeles? I pried my attention away from him and back to Daniel. “I’m sorry I bailed on you back there.”
“Are you kidding? Unconscious guests and screaming grandmothers take precedence over playful banter.”
“Is that what that was?”
He shrugged. “I don’t get much practice.”
I snorted. “Oh, please. The mamas were circling you like chum in the water. I’m sure you get lots of practice.”
Instead of responding, he stared—and after a moment, grinned. “Would you like to have lunch?”
“What, you mean without grandparents and drunken guests?”
“Doesn’t that sound nice?”
I pursed my lips as if the invitation required tremendous consideration. Daniel and I had seen each other on four occasions in the last month, three of which were buffered by family. On our one actual date, Daniel had taken me to dinner at a foodie paradise and dancing at a trendy club—which I’d chosen so I could interview a cocktail waitress for a case I’d been investigating. Despite my dating jitters and ulterior work motives, the evening had gone surprisingly well. I’d even stopped a rape from happening in the nightclub bathroom. By normal standards, we should have followed up with a second date. But when Daniel called and texted, I had ghosted him. The violence Tran and I had brought to the Norwalk Varrio 66 and the subsequent murders Tran had committed in the name of justice and payback had cast a pall over my romantic feelings. Now that Daniel and I had reconnected, those feelings had rekindled.
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