by Leigh Lyn
Afraid the rusty gate would shriek, I climbed over the five-foot fence, using the gaps as treads. Once inside, I tiptoed to the window, squatted under it and peered over the edge of the stone sill. Cherry was sitting on a sofa facing a fireplace and talking on the phone. She sounded upset. I tried to make out what the fireballs she spewed out in Putonghua meant. She was complaining to someone about the Italian and the whole incidence. She said something must be done about it when suddenly I heard footsteps approaching in the lane behind me. In a panic, I tried the door of the wooden shed and, thank God, it opened.
I sneaked inside the pit-black space and just in time closed the door behind me as the gate shrieked open. My body was pressed against what felt like a pile of wooden logs, and I held my breath. Outside, the footsteps passed the shed, went up to Cherry’s door and I heard a soft knock. The door opened.
“Ni xian ting wo shou. Hear me out before you throw a fit.”
I recognized Sam’s Beijing accent.
“How dare you interfere? That was between him and me!” Cherry exclaimed.
Yuxi could say what he wanted but, in the mind of this Queen Bee, what happened between Ben and her was not a hoax. If jealousy was an accurate measure of love, then Cherry was winning. The door closed with a bang, dampening their voices.
I counted to ten before I ventured out of the shed but, in the dark, I kicked something, sending what sounded like a pyramid of a thousand metal canisters tumbling down onto the cobbled paving of the yard. Panic stricken, I dropped my body on the rolling objects to muffle the noise. It turned out to be a single can of air freshener, which I left lying on the ground next to the shed as I fled. Dashing down the long lane as quickly as I could, I heard the door open behind me and Sam’s voice shouted, “Who is it?”
Before I reached the street, Mimi’s digitized voice told me to answer the phone, loud and clear. Mortified, I ignored it and ran faster still. Somewhere along the way, I lost my heels. By the time I stumbled through the door of our chilly tenement seven city blocks and fifteen minutes later, my soles were bleeding crimson smears on the white tiled walk-up. Inside the apartment, which at this hour seemed ghostlier than ever, I switched on all the lights and collapsed on the sofa. Utterly drained and with my breath still wheezing, I checked my phone. Sam’s name followed Mimi’s under “Missed Calls.”
Part of me was thinking what on earth was wrong with me while the other part was pondering dozens of questions at the same time. Was Sam acting on Ben’s behalf? He did say Ben knew about the Tor Di money. According to Ben, Sam didn’t know Lao Bo was his secret benefactor. But what I had seen suggested Sam not only knew but was conspiring with the man’s mistress. So, possibly, Ben was played as Yuxi had suggested. But then there was Cherry’s wrath. Could she have fallen for Ben so bad without him contributing to that? Was Cherry a bunny boiler? I wanted her to be one so bad it hurt.
Chapter 37
Close to midnight, Ben’s key turned in the lock. I’d been sitting on the window sill for hours watching the nocturnal acts of the metropolis swarm the darker parts of the street below without seeing much. There was an evasive look in Ben’s eyes as he wrapped his arms around me. I soaked in the feel of his body as if it were our last embrace. My throat closed and I braced myself.
“I’m sorry,” he said at last.
The few times I had put up a fight for a love I thought was mine, it went awry. Right or wrong, I was now inclined to let it be.
“You’re trembling,” Ben said, pulling me away from the window. He sat me down on the sofa while he planted himself on the coffee table facing me. Failing to find the right words, he buried his face in his hands and rubbed it instead.
When I spoke, my voice sounded as if life had been zapped out of it. “That was Cherry, wasn’t it?”
Ben closed his eyes. He took a deep breath before he replied. “I wish I could tell you all about it, cutie, but I can’t.”
This was not happening to me. This began to feel like an out-of-body experience if there is such a thing. Scrolling down his broad shoulders, his broad chest, his stumpy pink fingers, I couldn’t help but think how much I loved this man.
“But it’s not what it seems,” he added. “I love you.”
The only three words that mattered, and most men knew it.
“Okay, why don’t you tell me what happened then?”
A fair question, I presumed. The image of Cherry’s fury flashed in front of my eyes. “Even if you love me, you still owe me an explanation.”
“I can’t. Not without jeopardizing our situation. Can’t you just trust me?”
He looked tired.
“How can I trust you if we don’t clear the air? Cherry knew you, and you knew Cherry. Something happened and now Cherry is livid. Am I to pretend none of this happened without you even saying anything?”
Ben was quiet, then said, “I haven’t done anything, cutie. Hurting you is the last thing I want to do.”
“Ben, for the longest time I had something I felt I couldn’t tell you. But it was a mistake. I could, and I’m glad I did. Now it’s your turn.”
He looked so guilty saying nothing, my heart ached. He moved next to me and wiped my tears with the palm of his hand. “I don’t want to torture you with lengthy accounts of what happened because it’s nothing and it shouldn’t matter.”
“Shouldn’t I be the judge of that? I want to know, Ben,” I said. I found it hard to even look at him. Ben grabbed one of my hands. “If it makes you feel any better, I swear nothing happened.”
I stared at him. “If that’s true, then why is Cherry acting this way?”
He sighed and lit up a fag. He hung his head as he smoked. “Once she got quite drunk and asked me to tuck her in, but she pulled me down and I couldn’t get away.”
“You couldn’t get away?” I blinked. The image of beautiful Cherry’s gorgeous body straddling Ben flashed in front of my eyes. “She weighs less than a hundred pounds!”
“Hear me out, Lin!” Ben tugged at my hand he was still holding. “I was drowsy from something added to the wine, I passed out, but nothing happened. I swear.”
“She slipped you a roofie?”
“I really don’t know what it was.”
I gazed at Ben, wanting to believe him even if I didn’t. After a long silence, I asked, “And you never got together with her again?”
“We talked on the phone, but that was business about an artist she wanted me to promote.”
“And you don’t have any feelings for her?”
Ben hesitated.
“You do, don’t you?”
“Lin, I wouldn’t be here if I did, but the truth is: I can’t help it if she has feelings for me. I can’t control that; she’s her own person.”
“For goodness sake, you spent a night with her.” I got up.
“But I was unconscious! Come here, Lin.” Ben grabbed my arm.
“I’m going to lie down.” I struggled to free my arm.
“No, you are not.” Ben pulled me into his lap and whispered in my ear, “I handled it wrong, but I didn’t cheat on you. Don’t let them win.”
I froze as Ben let go of me. I stared at him as he grabbed the pack of cigarettes from the coffee table and lit another one up.
“Listen,” he said. “I’ve asked Yuxi to keep an eye on you. I want you to stay low, keep out of the picture, okay babe?” When I didn’t reply he added, “I’ll look you up when it’s safe to do so.”
Part of me wanted to shout out I was involved no matter what he wanted; part of me told me I shouldn’t. I’d been exiled to the Antarctic where our love would be frozen. I got up to go to bed. Standing at the bottom of the steps, I turned to look into the azure eyes I loved.
“Be careful,” I heard myself say.
A light tremor from Ben’s side of the bed woke me up. A small rectangular patch of blue light lit up the otherwise dark ceiling. I feigned sleep as Ben picked up his cell. I heard him shuffle around, gathering clothes and tiptoein
g down the steps. The moment I heard the apartment door open and close, I dashed to the closet, put on sweats and trainers and sneaked after him. Snooping had become my way of life. I was not proud of it but, if Ben wasn’t telling me what was going on, I should find out for myself.
I dreaded facing what might happen next more than anything. Yet, I felt compelled to shush my imagination, which would blow the incident-slash-infidelity out of proportion if I didn’t do this. The closer we got to Ben’s destination, the more disheartened I became. I watched Ben enter Cherry’s tenement at the Bowery, after which I made my way to the back lane. The deafening debacle with the can earlier lingered in my memory, but I reckoned I would know the potholes by now. I climbed over the same fence for the second time that evening. Everything looked the same as I had left it. I picked up the can of air freshener, which was still lying next to the wooden shed, and crouched under the window for the second time that night. Muffled voices came through. I listened for Sam’s. It would make all the difference in the world if he were in there too, but it went so quiet I could hear the blood rush through my veins. I took a deep breath and ventured my head above the windowsill to peek.
The room was empty. I noticed a fire had been lit in the fireplace. Yellow flames were dancing around wooden logs. Nothing else was happening so I waited and watched the dancing flames. After a while, they seemed to reach out, inviting me in to join their fiery dance. I’d just resigned to the possibility my late-night-quest would not uncover any truths, big or small, when somewhere I heard a familiar tune, which threw me off. Then, I saw them: A foot sticking out at the end of the sofa, and a pair of black stockings draped over the back of the black leather sofa, a corner of Cherry’s jade-green robe on the floor in front.
Imagining Ben making out with that woman in front of a crackling fire drove me off my bend. It was as if all my emotions erupted at once. My blood boiled over, my throat tightened, my skin turned cold. I sank to the ground, and everything around me became hazy. And then I blacked out.
Chapter 38
I watched the sun peek over the roofline of the buildings across the street as New York awakened. Ben’s side of the bed was empty. There were no notes, no pills counted out on saucers, no messages on my cell. I packed my suitcase with a heavy heart, got dressed and called a cab. After last night, I shouldn’t stay.
Deep down, I wanted to believe it was my safety Ben was concerned about and that he would look me up again. I carried my bags downstairs. Before I closed the door of the apartment behind me, I climbed out onto the fire escape for the last time. Down below, the smell of a bakery opening shop filled the air. An old man was walking his dog, and an early jogger dashed across, disappearing into a side street. I left Ben a voicemail to say I was leaving and went back inside.
I told the cab driver the address. Frances said it was at a limestone building on the Bowery with yellow awnings where she would be waiting at the Port Cochere. With the roads near-empty, the cab moved briskly along the jumble of new and old buildings. I lowered the window and let the wind dry my tears. At a zebra crossing, the cab stopped for the same elderly man I’d seen from the fire escape walking his bulldog earlier that morning. This time, he saw me too, and he smiled. Embarrassed, I smiled back and looked for my sunglasses.
Frances hugged me when I arrived and took me up to her apartment. “You’re welcome to crash here as long as you like,” she said.
“I’ve moved my flight to tomorrow, so it’s just for the night.”
I looked around the beautiful apartment while taking a seat on the cream-colored sofa. It was decorated in the same white minimalist style, which appeared to be Frances’ taste, with large canvases to liven up the place.
“What did he say?” Frances asked, filling the stainless-steel kettle with bottled water.
I told her the gist of our conversation.
“Ben and I have never talked about the fact we are or are not exclusively seeing one another. So strictly speaking, no promises were made, and no promise was broken.”
“Your heart is broken.” Frances shook her head. “I love Ben but, in this town, monogamy goes without saying, girlfriend. You’re too sweet, making excuses for him.”
“I’m not. I just suck at the romance and love thing.” I sighed. “All I know is that his solitude is no longer mine to guard.”
“You don’t know that yet. He might be back. Anyway, are you ready for our date, sweetie?” she asked, cheerily. “That should take your mind off this.”
I’d forgotten about that.
“I have to go to an art event soon but make yourself comfortable. I'll come back and we’ll leave at seven.”
Ben’s grief over the auction prices came to my mind.
“When is the auction?”
“In two hours. That’s the art event I’m going to.” Frances looked at her watch. “Why, do you want to come?”
I felt a strange flush of energy going through my body.
“Can I? Will Ben be there? Or Sam?”
People were piling into the auction room as we arrived: Reporters in one bay to the side; connoisseurs, dealers, collectors, gallery owners at the back; and bidders with their numbered paddles at the front.
“Let’s sit here,” Francis said, pointing at two empty chairs in the first row. Neither Ben nor the artists went to these events according to Frances, but I still scanned the room for them. At eleven sharp, the auctioneer came in and started the auction. Two Sotheby’s employees brought out the artwork. One by one, they went under the hammer. Soon, they brought out a huge painting I recognized.
“Lot 11 is a work by Chinese contemporary painter Sam Chan. It measures twelve by twelve and depicts a mountain-scape,” the auctioneer rattled. “Bidding starts at eight-hundred-and-eighty thousand dollars and goes up in increments of fifty-thousand.”
A paddle went up. “Nine-hundred-thirty-thousand-dollars.”
“Nine-hundred-thirty,” the auctioneer repeated. “From the lady in white, bidder number 213.”
A Sotheby’s employee at the telephone bench of telephone bidders raised her paddle. “One million dollars.”
The same paddle in the room went up. “One-mill-fifty.”
“One-mill-fifty.”
And so it went, back and forth until the price had risen to a whopping seven million dollars. None of the bidders were Chinese or Italian as far as I could see, except for the telephone bidder.
Frances handed me a paddle and whispered, “Ten.”
I stared at her as she pointed at the paddle, gesturing me to raise it while mouthing “ten.” Puzzled, I frowned at her.
“Go on.” She nudged me. “Bid!”
“Ten million dollars,” I whimpered, raising the paddle three inches. A murmur went through the audience.
“Ten mil by Bidder Number 36 in Row 1,” the auctioneer said, smiling. “Anyone else?” He looked at the lady in red on the front row, who shook her head. The auctioneer turned to look at the employee who had made a bid earlier.
“Ten mil fifty anyone?” Silence. The auctioneer turned back to the audience.
“In which case, ten million dollars once, ten million dollars twice, sold! Lot 11 for ten million dollars to Bidder 36 on the first row. Congratulations, ma’am.”
“What just happened?” Gobsmacked, I turned to Frances, who replied, “You just spent ten million dollars. Did you not enjoy that?”
“Why are we bidding?” I gazed at her.
“It’s what clients ask us to do sometimes, because of second thoughts or to create hype. Within reason, we do it.”
Flying back to Hong Kong the next day, I was so tired I slept during the entire flight. The minute the plane touched down at its destination, my cell rang.
“Hi Lin, it’s me,” Yuxi said. “I got your number from Frances. How was your flight?”
He sounded concerned.
“Still on it. We landed a minute ago. Why, what’s up?”
“I’m wondering if you’ve heard from Ben.”
“No, why?”
“I moved into the apartment earlier today, and Ben’s luggage is still here. I tried to contact him, but there is no reply.”
“That’s odd,” I sighed. “But it is not my business anymore. Would Cherry know where he is?”
“I don’t have her number. Besides, I don’t want to aggravate her in case he is not with her.”
“I know what you mean. Speaking of Cherry, do you know how Sam met her? Are they friends?” I asked.
“Well…” Yuxi hesitated. “Few people know the two are related, not even Sam.”
“Related? How so?”
“Don’t quote me on this, but Lao Bo is quite the man around town with many mistresses, and he left Sam’s mother for Cherry. As far as I know”—Yuxi paused—“They are like cat and mouse. When they first met, Cherry was the cat and Sam was the mouse, but they seem to have switched roles. Sam never talked about it though. Sometimes I think he has no idea.”
“Sam has no idea he’s Lao Bo’s son? How do you know all this?”
“My mother told me.”
Detecting the wonder in my voice, he continued. “I told you Sam and I are from the same little village in the mountains of Sichuan, didn’t I?”
“I guess so.”
The truth was I couldn’t remember for the life of me.
“Why do you ask?” The pitch of Yuxi's voice rose.
“Well, Frances took me to the auction yesterday, and they bought back Sam’s painting for ten million dollars. Frances says they had second thoughts.”