by Lizz Lund
“Speaking of blood, I’m hungry. But I promised to keep you in one piece. Damn. I better go back in my box. Later.” Bernie started back up the steps.
Mrs. Phang shot up. “You know, we’re hungry, too. You want me to help you find something in the fridge?”
“Oh, no you don’t! The last time you did that, you caused a lot of monkey business.”
“It wasn’t what you think! I wanted a smoke. And the door was locked.”
“You were climbing out the window!”
“Bernie…”
“Besides, you know how much flack I’ll get if those bozos know I’m even giving you smoke breaks?”
“I know, I know. It’s very nice of you. Very civil.”
“You’re darn right it’s civil! I may be a vampire, but I’ve still got some social skills, you know?”
“Vampire?” I croaked.
She shot me a look. “Bernie’s succumbed to some kind of protein deficiency.”
“Protein, schmotein. I tell you, I need blood. And now I gotta wait hours before I can even think of feeding again. I’m going back upstairs and lie down in my box.”
“Hey, Bernie, why don’t we order takeout?”
Bernie stopped in his tracks. “That didn’t work out so good for me last time.”
“I know, I know, my bad. They just misunderstood raw for rare.”
“Well…”
I sat up and shook my head. What kind of looney tunes kidnapping was this?
“And this time you can use my credit card, okay? My treat.”
“You better make sure you tell them. NO GARLIC this time. Vampires don’t like garlic.”
“Absolutely.”
“I had indigestion for days.”
“My apologies. I’ll make sure. Why don’t you circle what you want from the menu, and I’ll make sure to tell them exactly, especially no garlic and raw.”
“Well, the menus are all upstairs. I have no clue where a pen is…”
Bernie ambled up the steps, and left us. The lock on the door clicked firmly behind him.
“What the hell? Your treat?” I hissed.
“Yes, you fool! My credit card number will be traced.”
“Assuming you’re being looked for.”
“Of course I’m being looked for! Hasn’t anyone reported me missing?”
“Actually, I suggested that to your sister-in-law.”
“You suggested it? Ugh, she always was a little slow.”
“She said you had an argument. It was an honest mistake.”
“I know, I know. She’s too nice. She’s lived in Lancaster too long.”
I nodded in agreement.
“What the hell happened?”
She sighed. “They kidnapped me. I thought I found a way out when I recognized the delivery kid. He’s my second-cousin’s youngest. I tried to have him deliver a note to the police. But he went wombat on me, afraid he’d get deported. So I told him to hide a note inside a fortune cookie, and deliver it to Vito.”
“That was smart.”
“That’s what I thought. Besides, getting rescued by Vito will be safer. I think they’re up to something very bad.” She uncuffed me and led me to a chink in the cement wall. “Look.”
It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the daylight, but eventually I saw a small shed, with its door ajar. It was loaded with gasoline cans. Dozens more were piled outside.
“He’s sailing to Iceland?”
She put her hand to her forehead. “No, fool! He’s stockpiling fuel a little at a time, sneaky like. You see?”
“But why?”
“Probably to get rid of any evidence.”
“Like?”
“Us.”
“You mean, if he thinks the cops are going to rescue us, he’ll blow up the house?”
“Sky high.”
“Won’t that be a tad unusual?”
“In this neighborhood? It’s unusual that this house is standing. It’ll probably be considered a gas leak, until forensics gets through with it.”
“And us.”
“Precisely.”
“So Vito’s getting to us first would be lots safer?”
“A silent Towncar versus a three-alarm fire. You pick.”
“I guess this would be bad time to tell you about the fortune cookie I got telling me someone was being held prisoner in Mantoloking?”
“YOU got the fortune? What did it say?”
“Help – prisoner 1465 Conch Avenue, Mantoloking, NJ!”
“Well, that’s almost what I told him to say, with the exception of my name. How did you get the fortune?”
“Norman took us to lunch at Lucky Palace.”
“Lucky Palace? Oh, the little twit.”
“Huh?”
“Lucky Palace is a franchise, the one down here where the kid works. He probably set the damn thing down in a box of fortunes getting shipped to PA instead of taking by hand to Vito like I told him to.”
“I guess your instructions got lost in the translation.”
Mrs. Phang flapped her arms. “Well, what’s done is done. At least now I know why it’s taken so long.”
The basement door flapped open and Bernie thumped downstairs. I dove back to the pole and put my hands behind my back.
“Okay girls, what’ll it be? You’ve got lots of choices but I’m not so sure I’m gonna like any of them.”
“Sure, you will. It will be fun,” Mrs. Phang walked toward Bernie and his menu. Bernie held up a gun.
“Sorry, Tina. Nothing personal. Just business.”
Mrs. Phang took a step back. “I just wanted to see the menu, Bernie. Honest. I’m trying to help you.”
“Sure. Understood. Here’s the menu, and a pen.” He tossed the menu and a ballpoint on the floor.
Mrs. Phang picked up the menu, trying to see. I noticed it was trembling in her hands. Bernie hadn’t put the gun down.
“So, let’s see. It’s Asian Fusion so we have lots of choices.”
“What do they got for appetizers?”
“I guess fried is definitely out for you, right Bernie?”
“You betcha. Terrible for my cholesterol.”
“How do you feel about sushi?”
“You mean raw fish?”
“Yes.”
He thought a moment. “Does it have any blood?”
“It probably did at one time.”
“Okay. I’ll try it. But I don’t want no wasabi mustard. It ruins my sinuses.”
I banged the back of my head calmly against the pole.
“And for your entrée?”
“ I’ll try the pepper steak again. And they can cook the peppers. But NO onions. And I want the steak RAW. And no rice.”
“Got it. Now let’s see, Mina – would you like some dumplings?”
I rolled my eyes. This was a bizarre last meal. “Sure.”
“Do you like General Tso’s chicken?”
“Yes.”
“Spicy? Extra spicy? Mild?”
“Spicy.”
“Great. Now, I think I’ll have the vegetable spring rolls, and veggie lo mein.”
Bernie winced. “What are you, some kind of vegetarian?”
“Actually, I’ve been one for some time now.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You don’t say?”
Mrs. Phang nodded.
“I’ve got to look into that. I don’t know that much about vegetarian cooking per se; and almost nothing about vegan recipes.”
“I understand there’s a lot to prepping and technique.”
“That’s what I thought. You see, James is going to have a lot of catering clients for me at the beginning of the year, and…”
“LADIES, please! Tina, you got your orders?”
“Sorry. Sure, here.” She handed over the marked-up menu.
“Fine. I’ll place the call. I already got your credit card, Tina. Thanks a mil.”
Tina smiled. “Anything for an old friend. Just one thing before you call though, o
kay?”
Bernie huffed with impatience. “What?”
“Well, I mean. I know I gave you the go ahead to use my card.”
“Yeah.”
“And you know it’s okay.”
“Yeah?”
“But the kid taking the order might wonder why a middle-aged white guy is placing a credit card order under the name of Tina Phang.”
“Huh.”
“Besides, you want to make sure you get your meat umm… the right way, this time, right?”
“Yeah?”
“So how’s your Vietnamese?”
“Huh?”
Mrs. Phang rubbed her forehead. “Remember, the kid taking your order last time mentioned the owner is Vietnamese?”
“So?”
“Bernie, listen: I speak the language. Like as in, special order?”
Bernie brightened. “Oh, yeah, right! You got an inside track on the gook thing.”
Mrs. Phang and I winced.
She smiled tightly. “Yes, it’s a special club.”
“Okay, here. But no monkey business this time, you got it?”
“Enough with the monkeys!”
Bernie dialed and handed the phone over to Mrs. Phang, pointing the gun at her head. To her credit, she appeared to calmly commence ordering. She smiled and nodded her head a lot, with a lot of uh-huh’s.
“How’s your handcuffs, kid?”
I sat up, wide-eyed. “Okay.”
“You know, if they’re rubbing you the wrong way, I got some powder upstairs.”
“That’s great. But I’m fine, thanks.”
“You sure? Here, let me take a look…”
Mrs. Phang leaped in front of him. “Here you go, Bernie! Said they’d be here in twenty minutes!” She shoved the menu at him.
“Hey, how’s that for service? Last time I called it took over an hour.”
“Glad I could help.”
“Sure. Thanks.” Bernie started upstairs. Then, he turned back around.
“And Tina?”
“Yes?”
“Put the cell phone on the steps, where I can see it, okay?” He held the gun resolutely by his side.
Mrs. Phang’s face went pale. “Oh, right! Ha, ha, almost forgot.”
“Sure, it’s an easy mistake. Wouldn’t want to go using up my minutes now, would you?”
“Ha, ha.”
“Ha, ha.”
He took the phone and went back up the stairs, locking the door.
Mrs. Phang fell to her knees, shaking and crying. I sprang up and hugged her.
“You did great! You’re really brave!”
She shook her head. “We’ll see.”
“How did they take the part about the raw meat order?”
She wiped her eyes. “Dunno.”
“Huh? You were on the phone with them for over five minutes. And I saw you give them a credit card number.”
“I asked for a manager right away. I was afraid a kid would think it was a prank call.”
“Our order would be a prank call?”
“No. Our escape.”
“That was smart!”
“Maybe.”
“What’d the manager say?”
“He yelled at me for taking up their business line playing games. I told him to take our order and check my card number with the police.”
“Did he take the order?”
“I think so. Don’t know. I’m not too hopeful.”
“Why?”
“He said he was going to call back to verify it. And that pranking about kidnapping wasn’t funny.”
Upstairs we heard Bernie’s cell phone ring. “Why, yes, my uh, wife just placed an order with your outfit a few minutes ago. Yeah, she ordered that. Uh, huh. Yep. Great. Thanks.”
The minutes ticked away. I felt like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz – the wicked Chinese takeout manager had upturned our hour-glass timer. We heard a siren wail and we scrambled toward the chink in the wall to see. Then it faded into the distance. So did our hopes. We were scared. We used the bucket.
“I guess they’ve been treating you okay?”
“Mostly. But mostly it’s been just Bernie and me. Myron and Dexter have only made guest appearances. ” She shivered. “They had me locked upstairs in a bedroom. At least it had a toilet.”
The heat exchange kicked in. “And you had to have been warmer there.”
“I know. I should have thought of that. Maybe we should have played for more time.” She rubbed her arms.
“I don’t know. Not if Myron and Dexter are both coming back tonight.”
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of. This isn’t the norm.”
Awhile later we heard a car pull up to the house, and footsteps spring up to the front door. The doorbell rang. A chair scraped against the kitchen floor. The front door opened.
“Delivery for Tina Phang?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Sign here please.”
“Where do I sign for your tip?”
“Tip? Oh, thank you! Here!”
Mrs. Phang spewed a deluge of whispered expletives that I’m sure would choke someone later. Particularly Bernie, since he was over-tipping on her dime.
The front door banged shut and we heard the tumbler lock. Steps were heard going into the kitchen. A bag rustled. We smelled food.
“Insane bastard’s gonna eat it all. Raw my ass,” Mrs. Phang whispered.
“Then he’ll get a belly ache. Then maybe we could sneak away?”
She shot me a look. I guessed I was a little too Nancy Drew for her Ellery Queen.
The door to the basement opened. “All right ladies, come and get it.”
I started to get up when Mrs. Phang shoved me back down, kicking some boxes over on purpose, while she slammed the cuffs back on me.
“Hey, Bernie, love to oblige. But Mina, you know?”
Bernie ambled down the steps. “Oh, right. Sorry. Forgot. I’ll give you her food, and you can feed her, after you eat with me, okay?”
Mrs. Phang closed her eyes, and crossed her fingers. “The atmosphere down here might not be conducive to eating.”
“Huh? Whaddaya mean? If this anymore of your monkey business…” Bernie lumbered down and stood at the base of the steps. “Phew! It smells like piss down here!”
Mrs. Phang stood with her hands on her hips. “You know?”
“Geez! I was only kidding about the bucket!”
“Why you not say?”
“All right, all right, don’t go getting all Asian on me.”
“Do you have a key or don’t you?”
“Of course not. I wasn’t kidding about Dexter. But I got this.” He opened up a small, sharp instrument from a keychain in his wallet – the kind your grandpa wore.
Bernie leaned over and picked open my handcuffs.
“This is great! Thanks!” I pretended, rubbing imaginary numb wrists.
“Don’t mention it. And I mean, don’t mention it. We’re gonna eat, you girls take a pit stop, then back down here you go. I don’t wanna piss off the boys.”
Mrs. Phang cleared her throat.
“Yeah, seriously. Let’s get out of here.” Bernie led the way up the steps, standing at the top with his gun trained on us. “Just to make sure there’s no monkey business.”
“What monkey business? Would you forget about the monkeys already?” Mrs. Phang fumed.
“ Look, you’re cranky because you’re hungry. It’s all set. Let’s eat.”
We stared in disbelief at the domestic arrangement before us: a kitchen table laid with placemats, napkins and water bottles.
“Dinner is served, ladies.”
Mrs. Phang and I exchanged glances.
“Actually Bernie, I’d like to wash up a little first, please.”
“Use the kitchen sink, Tina. You get one trip to the bathroom after we eat.”
Wow. He was mean. I figured she was faking. But who makes someone try to eat when she has to tinkle?
�
�Wow, would you look at this? They finally got the order right. Here girls, dig in.” Bernie energetically arranged the takeout boxes on the table.
“Now.” He waved the gun at us. We sat down.
“This is more like it!” He dove into the sushi enthusiastically.
Mrs. Phang and I exchanged more glances and put pieces of dumplings and spring rolls on our plates. We picked them up and looked at them. Bernie chewed heavily. Eventually, we took some bites. This was just as Bernie chose to spit out his sushi out in front of us.
“Pwah! Ugh! This ain’t raw!”
Mrs. Phang stared at the remains on his plate. “It should be. Sushi is raw fish.”
“I know what sushi is! This is pickled! Here, you try!” He shoved the remainder of the uneaten sushi in the center of the table.
I looked at it. “Actually, I think what you think is pickled is the pickled ginger. It’s a garnish that comes with the sushi.”
“Really? Well, I don’t want no garnish.”
“You probably picked up a piece of ginger by mistake. Try this.” I picked up a piece of the fish, removing it from its rice bed, and put it on his plate.
Bernie plopped it in his mouth, and chewed tentatively. He smiled, shook his head and swallowed. “Well, I’ll give you this. It’s raw. But I ain’t no seal.” He dove for his entrée and tossed it on his plate. Blood poured forth, along with thinly sliced raw beef.
Mrs. Phang looked down. I stared in disbelief.
“This is great! I owe you one, Tina!” Bernie proceeded to suck and slurp his way through his portion of dead, bloody cow.
I silently vowed to consider the vegetarian thing.
He looked up. We stared at him. “Whatsa matter? Ain’t you hungry no more?”
“Umm… it’s just that umm…” Mrs. Phang looked him directly in the face, specifically where some bloody spittle was drooling down his chin. She dabbed pointedly at her face with her napkin.
“Oh, jeez. You mean my choppers! I don’t need them to feed like this. I feed on the liquid.”
“Beg pardon?”
“I only use my choppers to hunt. I don’t need them to eat stuff like this, just humans. I only have to suck the blood out of this.” He proceeded to demonstrate.
I stifled the urge to wretch. “That’s pretty creative.”
He nodded and pointed to his temple with his forefinger. “I got it all going on up here. Never sleeps.”
“Neither does rust,” Mrs. Phang murmured.
“Say what?”
The doorbell rang.