I inserted the bump key, pulled it back one notch, and turned it slightly to the right in order in order to create tension in the locking mechanism. Maintaining this tension, I hit the key with the lip balm tin, bumped it once more, and opened the lock.
I stowed my tools and stashed my pack.
A full minute had passed since I last saw Sharelle. I shuddered to think of what might already be happening. Even so, I opened the door with care and crept inside.
The door to an empty bathroom stood open with boxes piled high on the other side. Hip hop beats seeped through the walls. The narrow hallway led to three closed doors: two on the left and the door leading to the barber-tattoo shop on the right. I put my ear to the other doors and listened for voices.
“Come on, Sharelle. It’s easy,” a girl said. “Just do like me.”
“Yeah. Do like her,” a man agreed.
“I can’t.”
“You did it with RC this morning. Same thing. Just sharing the love.”
I clenched my fists. That sonofabitch RC had seduced Sharelle and sold her off the same day? I couldn’t wait to share my own ninja love right up his ass.
I turned the knob and barged into the room.
The door bashed into the girl and toppled her onto the end of the bed. The man whirled around, yelling at me to wait my turn. His shirt was unbuttoned and his pants hung around his knees. Sharelle whimpered from the corner, clutching her magenta shirt in front of her breasts.
When he saw I was a woman, he dismissed me with a wave. “Get out of here. I didn’t pay for you.”
I web-handed him in the throat and held my hand out to Sharelle.
“Come on, let’s go.”
But instead of following me out of the room, she screamed.
The other girl attacked, fingers raised to claw at my face. I didn’t have time to deal with her, so I shoved her back to the bed. “Settle down. I’m here to help.”
“The fuck you are.”
She launched herself again, just as RC opened the barber shop door behind us. “The fuck you bitches doing in there?” he shouted over the music.
As the girl charged, I shot out a foot, caught her on the shin, and propelled her out the door into RC. He shoved her back into the room and headed for Sharelle, who was still screaming from the corner. Although the room was tiny, in all the commotion, he still hadn’t noticed me.
“Shut the fuck up,” he yelled, and slapped her across the face.
Two men. Close quarters. Deadly conditions.
I couldn’t afford to waste the advantage of surprise with a half-hearted attack. RC was everything I had suspected him to be—a violent, manipulating sex trafficker who had used and sold Sharelle so fast and with such skill even a task force officer hadn’t detected the signs. If I didn’t take him out quickly and decisively, he’d rip me apart. I didn’t have time for half measures. This fight ended now.
I unclipped my karambit and sliced the blade across his hamstring. RC screamed and crumpled to the floor.
Pandemonium erupted as RC thrashed about the tiny room, punching the out-of-place man—who he obviously thought was attacking him—tossing the new girl aside, and bellowing at Sharelle like a wounded bear in a cage. I ducked his swings and dodged around his legs, then sliced up his thigh and into his groin. He screeched in anguish. As he doubled over to staunch the squirting blood, I grabbed Sharelle by the wrist and yanked her out the door.
Or at least, that was my intention.
Sharelle had dug in her heels, and at twice my weight, she’d stopped me like an anchor.
She tossed me aside and threw herself onto RC, crying, hugging, and screaming for the other girl to do something before he bled to death.
I tried to pull her off of him, but she shoved me into the wall. “Killer! Murderer! Get away from him.” Then she wrapped her arms around him and sobbed.
“Who the fuck is that?” RC yelled, seeing me for the first time.
The out-of-place man pulled up his pants and raced out the door as the other girl rolled Sharelle’s magenta shirt and pressed it against RC’s wound.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. RC had sold their bodies and defiled their spirit and still these girls were trying to save him. It didn’t make any sense.
“You’re free,” I said. “Don’t you understand? He can’t stop you from leaving. He can’t force you to do anything.”
“Get out,” Sharelle yelled.
When I heard sirens growing louder, I did as she asked. Once in the parking lot, I slipped on my backpack and climbed the wooden fence onto the roof of the building behind Cut & Ink. When I reached the other side, I jumped down and strolled away from the crime scene as calmly as my muddled brain would allow.
What had happened in there?
Even if someone explained it, I wasn’t sure I would understand. RC had only met Sharelle two days ago. How could he have indoctrinated her so quickly?
I cut down the next street back to MLK Boulevard in time to see paramedics wheeling RC into an ambulance. His head tossed side to side, either from pain or objection, and his arms strained against the bands that secured him to the gurney. I had sliced him across the hamstring and up the groin. He must have lost an awful lot of blood. But for now, he remained among the living.
Sharelle burst through the door, shouting for RC. When the officers restrained her, she shrieked and fought. If I had just come upon the scene, I would have assumed the cops had shot her father.
I unlocked the Merida and rode in the opposite direction. I didn’t want to chance Sharelle spotting me when she finally calmed down. If she calmed down. At this point, I couldn’t be sure of anything, least of all my own actions.
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
An hour later, I rolled my bike through the kitchen entrance of Baba’s restaurant, too lost in thought to notice the flying apron. I peeled it off my face as Uncle chortled from the prep table.
“This yours?” I asked.
He shrugged.
Ling held out her hand. “It’s mine. The rascal whipped it off when you came in.”
I returned it to her and stole a meat pastry before Uncle could stamp it with red edible ink. He swatted my hand and missed. I stole another and smirked.
He muttered in Shanghainese and pretended I wasn’t there.
I kissed his cheek. “Thanks for the snack.”
He huffed.
I could tell he was pleased by the twitch at the corner of his mouth. Although Uncle treated me like an annoying brat, I was his third favorite Angeleno. His Shanghainese-American wife was first, with Baba following at a close second. Uncle spent most of his time in the restaurant or at home. Tormenting me was the highlight of his day.
I gobbled one of the pastries as I rolled my bike down the hall toward the stairs, then stuffed the other one in my mouth to hold as I lifted the Merida onto its rack. I hadn’t eaten since morning, and my stomach growled angrily. As hungry as I was, I needed solitude even more.
And a very hot shower.
By the time I had dressed for Ma’s party, my hunger for wisdom had replaced my hunger for food.
I called Kansas for a ride to Sensei’s home in Los Feliz.
“Would you mind waiting? I won’t be long, and I still need a ride to Arcadia.”
As I got out of the car, she unbuckled her seatbelt and turned so she could extend her long legs over the passenger seat. “Take as long as you want. I have a book.”
I smiled. “It won’t be long. I can’t be late to my mother’s party.”
She waved me on my way, and I headed through Sensei’s torii gate and up the woodsy path.
Sensei answered his door with a mild expression of surprise. “Konbanwa, Lily-chan. You look very nice this evening.”
“Thanks. But I don’t feel very nice.”
“That much is evident.”
I sighed. “I need help.”
“Also
evident.”
I slipped off my heels, peacock blue to match my dress, and followed him inside. When we reached the chabudai table, I paused. Normally, I’d sit cross-legged with my back against the curved spine of the zaisu chair. Normally, I wasn’t wearing a knee-length cocktail dress.
Sensei smiled. “Let’s walk in the garden. The jacaranda is in bloom.”
As we passed through his bedroom, I marveled at its neatness and simplicity: bed made, belongings stored, chosen items carefully displayed. Sensei’s environment reflected the calm orderliness of his mind.
“Where are you headed so dressed up?”
“Ma’s fiftieth birthday bash.”
He nodded. “This is good.”
“That I’m dressed up or that she’s having a party?”
“Both. But why are you so troubled?”
I shook my head, at a loss for how to explain without diving into unwanted details. Sensei preferred to examine problems at their core, which meant I had to ignore the particulars and boil the situation down to the essence. This was harder than it seemed. How could I fully explain the severity of the situation without providing details?
Sensei gazed at the lavender flowers in his tree, patiently waiting for me to sort through my thoughts. Although he’d wait for hours, I didn’t have a minute to spare.
“I saved a girl from a dangerous incident today, and it blew up in my face.”
Sensei nodded, thoughtfully. “And this surprised you?”
“Yes. She treated me like the enemy.”
He shrugged. “Unsolicited help is almost always unwelcome.”
“I know, but—”
“There is no but, Lily-chan. Did you act out of need for gratitude?”
“No.”
“Then the girl’s reaction is unimportant. What matters is that she was saved.”
“I guess.”
“There is no guessing. Either your actions saved her from a dangerous incident or they did not.”
“They did.”
“Then the real problem you are facing is not her anger but your fear that she will put herself in this danger again.”
I sighed. Sensei had turned my problem away from Sharelle, whose reaction I could not control, and focused it back on me. According to his philosophy, this gave me more control over my life. Right now, it only made me feel more frustrated.
“My fear is real,” I said.
“Undoubtedly. But is there anything you can do that you have not already done?”
“I’m not sure. If I could show her the truth? Maybe.” I thought about Dolla and frowned. “That would require another girl coming clean, and I don’t see that happening.”
Sensei shook his head sadly. “It rarely does. Is there anything else you could do?”
I gazed at the jacaranda blossoms and considered Payns. If I told the task force officer what I had seen, would he believe me? Or would he find out about RC and come after me for assault? With my luck, he’d throw me in jail and throw a fundraiser for RC’s recovery.
“No,” I said. “There’s nothing more I can do.”
Sensei shrugged. “Then you have no problem.”
He escorted me to the front door. “Enjoy the party, Lily-chan, and be fully present with your mother. Although fifty is not a significant age for Asians, it has great importance for Americans.”
Sensei was right. In both Chinese and Japanese cultures, the sixtieth birthday was far more significant. Sixty years signified the completion of a full life cycle and returned the person to their own element-animal Chinese zodiac year. Since there were five elements and twelve animals, that multiplied to a sixty-year cycle. From what Ma had told me, Gung-Gung never even celebrated a birthday until his sixtieth year. Was that why he had been so dismissive about Rose’s sixth birthday when we had come to Hong Kong?
“My mother isn’t American. She has permanent residency status.”
Sensei tilted head. “And yet, she invited her parents to fly all the way from Hong Kong to celebrate a very American power birthday. Why do you think that is?”
I shrugged. “I hadn’t thought about it.”
“Perhaps you should. And while you’re considering this, also consider when you want to train. It’s been a month since our last lesson.” He raised a finger. “Wednesday’s conversation on the mat doesn’t count.”
I kept my eyes lowered as I slipped on my heels. Although I had arrived at a point in my training where Sensei and I didn’t train daily or even weekly, a month-long gap was still a significant lapse. It was easy to veer off course and develop sloppy or, in my case, convenient habits. Ever since I committed myself to finding Rose’s killer and protecting women in need, my priorities shifted from mastering an overwhelmingly rich art to using what I already knew effectively. I applied myself to both goals, but when someone’s life was on the line, effectiveness always won. These days, someone’s life was always on the line.
“I have to admit my movement doesn’t feel as smooth as it should.”
“How could it? The only practice you have is alone or in a crisis. Both are valuable, neither is sufficient.”
As always, Sensei had cut to the truth.
Chapter Thirty
I arrived fifteen minutes early, which made me forty-five minutes late. Although, I couldn’t imagine what else needed to be done. Twinkling lights, gorgeous flower arrangements, a full catering staff—it all looked perfect.
I found Ma in the kitchen checking on the same chef who had prepared a heavenly Coquilles Saint Jacques at our last family dinner. This time, he and his crew would present an elegant feast of hors d’oeuvres and desserts throughout the evening.
Ma offered one last instruction to the chef then glanced at me. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show.”
“Sorry, Ma. Traffic was nuts.”
In lieu of an answer, she adjusted the petal of an edible flower, removed it from the platter, and dropped it in the sink.
“I know,” I said. “I should have allowed more time.”
She smiled tightly and filled the empty spot with a presumably more perfect bloom.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
She eyed the backpack dangling from my elbow. “You can store your luggage in my office and make sure the coat rack and furniture are presentable for guests.”
“On it.”
“And Lily…”
I turned, pack slung over a shoulder, my hand on the doorway. “Yeah, Ma?”
“Be on your best behavior tonight.”
I straightened my posture. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And one more thing…”
I turned, smile fixed to my face, prepared for a detailed description of what constituted best behavior.
Ma glanced at my cocktail dress and matching heels—bought especially for her party and probably never to be worn again—and smiled. “That’s a lovely shade of blue.” Then she glided to the stove and exchanged more quiet words with the chef.
Fashion props from Ma? What other surprises waited for me tonight?
My heels clicked on the marble as I picked my way like a cautious crane to Ma’s office at the front of the house. How did she glide so effortlessly in these stilts? I’d rather perform kicking drills on a construction beam than prance around on heels.
Baba’s laughter rumbled behind me.
“Easy there, Dumpling. Don’t want to have to put you down before the festivities even begin.”
I planted a shoe and pivoted, taking great care not to wobble, then held up my hands in a mock model pose.
Baba nodded. “Very impressive.”
“Give me another hour and I’ll be running circles around this place.”
He chuckled. “Your mother would be as pleased about that as a pig in a shower.”
“Oh, I don’t know, she complimented me on my dress.”
“Really?”
“I kid you not. She said it
was a nice shade of blue.”
He smiled. “Well, it is that. Where are you off to, then?”
I held up my backpack. “To hide my luggage.”
He tapped his temple and winked. “Good kidneys.”
I rolled my eyes. Baba loved that tired old joke. And to be honest, so did I. Who could resist such childlike delight of a grown man pretending to mistake kidneys for a brain?
“Meet me on the patio when you’re done,” he said. “I want to show off my handy work.”
“What have you built now?”
“Store your pack and come outside.”
I did as I was told, but hid my belongings in her office closet rather than on the table cleared for that purpose. Arcadia was a family community and it wouldn’t surprise me if one or two of the guests dragged along their kids. Ma had done that to Rose and I more times than I could count. I didn’t want a bored rug rat finding my knife.
My third pass across the slippery marble felt considerably less treacherous, and I made it to the patio with a modicum of grace—which was good, since what I saw would have knocked me on my butt.
“Well?” Baba asked. “What do you think?”
“That I need to wean you off Crazy Rich Asians.”
His face drooped.
“I’m kidding. It’s gorgeous.”
Baba had turned their backyard into a tropical fairyland. Tiny white lights twinkled throughout the potted flowering trees. Water babbled out of rented fountains and a permanent, new stone waterfall. Colorful ottomans grouped beneath patio heaters to invite lively conversations in all directions.
“You did all this?”
“Arranged it. But I built that waterfall with my own two hands.”
“Of course you did.” Baba enjoyed anything he could build with his own hands: food, doll houses, and apparently, stone waterfalls.
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