White Ginger

by Thatcher Robinson

  He linked arms to walk with her. They made their way nearly to Washington Street before stopping again. The Far East Café was located one door down from the corner. Large gold letters frayed with age displayed the café’s name on dark glass. Peeling paint on the door served as an omen of neglect.

  Lee closed their umbrella. The rain had slowed to a drizzle. He opened the door and ushered her through the entrance. Stopping just inside the doorway, Bai let her eyes adjust to the subdued lighting. She took her time to visually inventory her surroundings.

  The café had changed. What had once been a meeting place for the geriatric set now catered to a much younger clientele. About a half dozen Wah Ching, young thugs, sat at tables in the far corner near the window. Their girlfriends sat with them. The crowd stared at them with disaffected interest.

  Wah Ching is a boy gang, teenagers mostly, though older members might reach into their thirties. They’re triad wannabes with a reputation for being vicious. Their eventual goal is membership in a triad, though few have the aptitude or discipline to make it that far.

  The boys sitting at the small tables looked like a mixed crew—short, tall, fat, and skinny. They dressed in leather jackets and dirty jeans with knee-length swag chains clipped to their belt loops. Heavy, industrial-type boots covered their feet. Tee-shirts, featuring heavy metal rock bands, rounded out the look. They’d apparently developed allergies to soap.

  Bai’s reputation in Chinatown was that of a well-connected, if somewhat meddlesome, woman. Her business was getting into other people’s business. Lee’s reputation was somewhat less affable. In his youth, he’d developed a reputation as a street fighter. But that had been years ago. He’d mellowed with age, for the most part.

  The Wah Ching gave no indication they recognized either of them.

  Bai nodded and smiled a greeting to the crowd who silently eyed them. Lee just stared at the bangers then turned away—a dismissal. They strolled over to take seats at the counter on round stools covered in pea-green Naugahyde. A green Formica counter, faded with age and chipped along the edges, provided a place to rest their elbows. The café smelled of old grease and burned coffee.

  No one stood behind the counter. Bai couldn’t see anyone through the service window to the kitchen. The place was quiet, too quiet. She stole another glance at the kids in the corner. They stared back with deadpan faces. Coffee mugs and soda glasses crowded the small tables in front of them. Half-eaten burgers congealed on plates.

  As she reached over and grabbed a couple of menus off the back of the counter, a young Chinese woman shuffled out of the door leading to the kitchen. A drab girl with a flat face and wary eyes, she appeared to be in her late teens.

  Bai smiled, hoping to set the girl at ease. “Hi, my name’s Bai Jiang. What’s your name?”

  The girl didn’t respond at first. When she did reply, her voice was sullen. “Ling. What do you want?”

  Bai squared her shoulders. The girl’s attitude bordered on disrespect. “Have you ever heard the saying, ‘Don’t open a shop unless you like to smile’?”

  Ling held a pencil poised over an order pad. She glared at Bai, her bottom lip thrust out in defiance. “You ever hear the saying, ‘Bite me—I could care less’?”

  Bai’s jaw tightened, and her fists clenched. She started to rise off her stool, but something about the girl gave her pause. Bai could see fear in her eyes. The girl tried to hide the fright behind a brittle veneer of indifference, but Bai could feel it in the stale air of the café, like a wool blanket on a hot night.

  Reining in her anger, Bai settled back onto her stool and replied mildly. “Two cups of coffee to start. Is Mrs. Yan here? I was hoping to speak with her.”

  Ling looked surprised. The girl turned abruptly to face the Wah Ching and gestured curtly before scuttling back into the kitchen. Chair legs scraped against linoleum to catch Bai’s attention as the gang members stood. They sauntered in her direction as she and Lee swiveled around on their stools to face the young thugs.

  A heavyset kid in front addressed Bai. “My name’s Jimmy Yan. What do you want with my mother?”

  Jimmy stood about six feet tall with a round belly that appeared to be soft with fat. Long, greasy hair framed an oval face dotted with pimples. He loomed over her with a subtle threat in his pose. Bai suspected that’s exactly what it was—a pose.

  She turned up the wattage on her smile, determined to charm him. “I’d like to speak with her. It’s a private matter.”

  Bai liked to delude herself into thinking she could unravel any mystery with a kind word and a gracious smile. Jimmy looked around to make eye contact with his boys. He smirked at them knowingly.

  When he turned back to Bai, his voice was flippant. “My mother’s gone back to China. You got somethin’ to say, you need to say it to me.”

  Bai glanced at Lee, who pursed his lips in a sign things weren’t going well. She didn’t need him to tell her that. She’d managed to “ferret” it out on her own. But she wouldn’t be deterred.

  “When did your mother leave for China?”

  “That’s none of your business. You’re kind of a nosy fuckin’ bitch.”

  Jimmy grinned as he appended the insult. The Wah Ching chuckled at the disrespect. Their girls tittered from the other side of the room.

  She refused to let her smile falter. “You’re not the first person to mention that.”

  “Nor the last, no doubt,” interjected Lee as he turned on his stool to speak to her.

  His expression was amused. He seemed to be enjoying himself.

  “Whothefuck are you?” Jimmy demanded.

  Lee spun around on his stool to face Jimmy. His tone was pleasant when he spoke. “My name’s Lee. Lee Li. As you might have guessed, my parents weren’t terribly imaginative. My therapist says that’s why I’m so prone to acting out. I have a deep need to prove I’m nothing like my parents, though, in retrospect, it seems that we’re all destined to inherit some of their traits as a matter of genetic predisposition. From what I’ve heard, you, for instance, are much like your mother.”

  Jimmy looked confused. His words sounded uncertain. “Whaddaya mean I’m like my mother?”

  Lee leaned toward him as if to speak in confidence. “From what I hear, she’s kind of an asshole.” The room went silent. “You seem to be following in her footsteps, but it’s not too late to change. As a matter of fact, I’d suggest now would be a good time to start.”

  Jimmy froze. The muscles in his jaw twitched; his eyes narrowed. “I’ll take care of you next,” he announced as he pointed his finger in Lee’s face. “But first, I want you to watch while we show your old lady a good time.” He looked aside at his companions. “Who wants to be first?”

  He threw the question out as he turned back to leer at Bai.

  The smile dropped from her face. “You’re big, and you’re stupid, Jimmy. And you’re about to make a huge mistake.”

  Her words went unheeded as Jimmy lunged at her awkwardly with his arms open wide. Bai’s foot arced swiftly up to catch him squarely in the crotch. His mouth made a silent “O” when her foot connected.

  Everyone watched as Bai’s foot lifted Jimmy off the floor. She shot off the stool as his head came down in response to having his balls kicked up between his ears. Her knee caught his nose and snapped his head back. He stumbled into a skinny kid behind him, knees buckling as he crumpled to the floor.

  Immediately, a fist flew her way—a wild swing, off-balance and wide. Bai stepped in and jabbed the skinny kid in the eye. The fight went out of him as he staggered around holding a hand to his weeping socket.

  The human body has a number of weak spots—eyes, ears, nose, throat, and groin, each being easily accessible. The eyes are sympathetic organs. Poke one and they both tear up. The ears are attached by a thin membrane that’s easily detached and remarkably sensitive to pain. The throat is tricky. Too much force inflicted will result in death.

  The sound of smacking flesh caused Bai to
turn around. She saw Lee swing his foot over his head in a move called “whipping the dragon’s tail” to kick a kid in the jaw and slap him to the ground. Another gangster was already lying on the floor. The only Wah Ching left standing was a short kid with a ponytail. He looked at them hesitantly before backing away a step with his hands held up in front of him, palms out.

  It had taken five seconds to subdue the Wah Ching. Bai thought it might have been a new record.

  Lee pulled his thirty-five caliber Tomcat from his jacket and swung it around to cover the girls seated across the room. Bangers would be used to getting rousted. They would let their girlfriends carry their guns rather than take the rap for carrying a concealed weapon.

  It wasn’t likely one of the girls would open fire, but there didn’t seem to be any point in taking chances. Lee walked over to relieve the girls of the hardware before herding the bad boys to the side of the room where their girlfriends waited to console them.

  Bai walked to the front door and locked it before turning the sign around to let people know the café was closed. Jimmy huddled on the ground holding his bloody nose and nursing his aching balls.

  She turned to yell into the back room. “Ling! Up front, pretty please.”

  It was never too late to be polite.

  The girl with the wary eyes shuffled out of the back. She looked at Bai and then over the counter at Jimmy. She smiled when she saw he was hurt.

  Bai spoke to the girl bluntly while nodding down at Jimmy. “Are you his sister?”

  A note of sadness entered the girl’s voice. “’Fraid so.”

  “Where’s your mother?”

  “She gave up and went back to China. She said she was done with us. Left Jimmy in charge of the family. Oldest son, you know the story.”

  “How long ago was this?”

  “Day before yesterday.”

  “Where are your siblings?”

  “They’re in school. They don’t get out ’til three.”

  “Where is Jia?”

  The question caught Ling by surprise. She averted her eyes and looked nervous. “You should ask Jimmy.”

  Bai reached over the counter and placed a hand on Ling’s shoulder to keep her from turning away. “I’m asking you, Ling. Where’s your sister?”

  Ling took a deep breath and visibly trembled. When she spoke, she sounded frightened. “Jimmy wanted into the gang. He traded her to the Wah Ching.”

  Bai turned, leaving Jimmy where he sprawled on the floor, to walk over and speak to his associates. Lee followed with his gun pointed at the ground. The Wah Ching seemed sufficiently cowed, but it didn’t hurt to have Lee at her back. She’d learned early in life that stupid people did stupid things.

  The boys hung their heads to avoid her gaze. Their feet shuffled nervously. The four young girls stared at her as if mesmerized with their eyes big and their mouths hanging slightly open, like guppies.

  The young women were dressed alike in anti-school uniforms: tight jeans, tight tee-shirts, and over-sized leather jackets. Their eyes were smeared with black eye shadow and their lashes clumped with mascara. They probably thought they looked more grown-up that way. They didn’t. They looked like little girls who lived on the fringe of society, seeking acceptance with little to look forward to other than a revolving door in the legal system.

  Bai couldn’t help thinking of her own daughter, Dan, and wondered if any of the aimless young women who stood before her had mothers who worried about them. The thought saddened her. With a weary voice, she asked, “Who’s in charge here?” She wanted to speak with the leader. Like all packs, the Wah Ching would have an alpha male. “This is me asking nicely.” She stopped to look around and see if anyone cared to volunteer an answer. “If we can’t talk like civilized adults, you’ll soon get acquainted with the not-so-nice me.”

  When she still didn’t get an answer, she stepped forward and grabbed the skinny kid by his ear and pulled down. He dropped to his knees and screeched.

  “Answer my question,” she ordered, “or I’ll pull off your ear.” She looked up to glare at the skinny kid’s friends. “If that doesn’t work, I’ll pull off the other ear.”

  The boys looked away. A couple of the young women put their hands over their ears protectively. Bai had to bite her tongue to keep from smiling.

  The short kid with the ponytail mumbled, “What do ya want?”

  She maintained a hold on the skinny kid’s ear while she turned to Ponytail. “I want Jia Yan back.”

  He mumbled again with his head down. His words were lost to the checkered tiles on the floor.

  Bai tried again. “Could you look at me when you talk? And try moving your lips when you speak. It isn’t that hard—really.”

  The young man looked away. He seemed incapable of meeting her gaze. His words were barely above a whisper. “Ngaw din nei la.”

  He’d told her to fuck off. She let go of the skinny kid’s ear to confront the smartass. “Dai jek gwan,” she said, calling him a big talker. His head dropped lower. “What’s your name?”

  “Jan.”

  “Jan what?”

  “Just Jan.”

  “OK, just Jan, tell me where the girl is,” she demanded.

  He remained silent.

  She leaned over to whisper in his ear. “Da sei nei.”

  She told him she’d kill him. His head jerked up to see if she was serious. She locked eyes with him. From the shock on his face, he apparently believed her.

  “Oaklin,” he whispered.

  “Sao jee!” hissed the skinny kid. Squealer.

  Bai whirled around to slap the skinny kid hard across the mouth with the back of her hand. The sound of the blow was like the crack of a whip. His head snapped back from the force of the cuff. He stumbled before catching his balance.

  She’d wanted to make a point. The slap had a sobering effect. Nobody else, it seemed, was in a hurry to get bitch slapped by a girl.

  She turned back to Jan. “Where in Oakland?”

  He shook his head and looked at the floor before whispering, “Gai dao.” Brothel. The young thug looked up and smiled. “Ka si nai make good cheen.” He told Bai the young girl would make good money.

  The little pimp spoke the words as if he were discussing an object, a thing, and not a young woman. For a brief moment, Bai lost it. Her hand shot out like it belonged to a stranger. She felt the cartilage in Jan’s nose break beneath her knuckles; the entire room heard the crunch. Jan staggered back into the girls, who caught him and kept him from falling.

  He held his hands cupped to his face and wheezed, “Ou bro’ muh nose.”

  “That’s just the beginning unless you tell me where to find Jia Yan. If you don’t tell me, I’ll make sure you crawl out of here—blind, deaf, mute, and crippled. They’ll prop you up with a bowl in front of the transit station where you’ll earn lots of cheen, you little shit.”

  Lee chuckled. He enjoyed seeing her get wound up, and she was thoroughly pissed. High school girls weren’t supposed to be sold into the sex trade. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became.

  “Nei se yan chee seen ge,” squealed Jan, holding his nose.

  He screamed that Bai was crazy. She didn’t feel any obligation to dispel the notion. She glared at him and hissed, her voice seething with anger. “Gwai gung?” Who’s the pimp?

  Jan stared at her and yelled defiantly. “Sammy Tu . . . tai lo . . . jal sei ma.”

  He spit blood that had dripped into his mouth onto the linoleum floor at her feet. His face was twisted with rage and pain. He’d told her that Sammy Tu was the pimp, she’d better be careful, and she’d better be ready for a fight. Jan had finally found his courage.

  She got in his face, standing toe to toe with him, her voice soft but filled with threat. “Puk gai baan chat. Get Real.”

  She’d called him a stupid prick and told him to drop dead in gang slang. “Get Real” is universal gang speak for “prepare for war.” Bai had declared war on the Wah Ching
.

  Only after he’d dropped his gaze was she willing to turn away to sit on a stool at the counter. She needed time to think—time to let her temper cool. Ling stood behind the counter as a silent observer.

  Bai turned to the girl. “Any chance I can get a cup of coffee nobody’s spit in?”

  Ling smiled and turned around to pick up a pot that had been resting on a warming station. She poured the steaming liquid into a brown mug and handed it to Bai. “You take cream or sugar?”

  Bai’s tone softened at the courtesy. “No. Thanks.”

  “You really wanna thank me, you can kick Jimmy in the balls again.”

  The request was delivered in a soft voice, but Bai could see from the look in her eyes that Ling was serious. She looked down at Jimmy as she sipped. The coffee had been sitting too long on the warmer and was bitterly strong. He gazed up at her, having heard the appeal. She took a guilty pleasure in witnessing his fear. She hadn’t forgotten he’d called her “old.”

  With her back to Lee, she heard him addressing the Wah Ching. “Why don’t you all sit down again until we decide what to do with you? And no phone calls,” he warned. “I’d feel really bad if you compelled me to shoot one of you.”

  His tone implied he wouldn’t feel bad at all.

  The scrape of chairs and angry grumbling informed Bai the Wah Ching were complying with Lee’s request. He came to sit next to her while keeping an eye on the gangsters. “I told you it would be fun.”

  He turned briefly to smile at her in encouragement. She stared at him, unamused.

  Her face scrunched up as she took another gulp of acidic coffee. “Great. I’m glad you’re having a good time. Jia Yan is being held in Oakland, and we’ve got a pack of juvenile delinquents on our hands. Now what do we do?”

  He swiveled his stool around to watch the Wah Ching while showing Bai his profile. “Have you thought about calling Jason?”

  Jason, her ex, was Hung Kwan, Red Pole of the Sun Yee On triad. He led their strike teams, which meant he commanded a small army of triad enforcers. In the hierarchy of the brotherhood, he held the number three position. Jason epitomized what the Wah Ching strived to become—a stone-cold killer. They probably wouldn’t know Jason, but they’d surely know of him. And, they would fear him.