Incensed

by Ed Lin

  I told Nancy about the internship I’d hooked up for my cousin.

  “Is Mei-ling going to be safe with Peggy?”

  I sipped some tea and swished it around my mouth to dislodge a mustard seed stuck between my molars. “Of course she is! Peggy’s not going to eat her.”

  Nancy jabbed me with her right elbow. “You’re so annoying! I meant that Peggy is going to make her work long hours. Maybe too long.”

  “I hope so. The office work will give Mei-ling the discipline she craves so badly.”

  “But she wants to be a singer.”

  My tea box bottomed out. I shoved the straw back inside and crumpled the paper box. “The sooner that dream is crushed, the better,” I said. “If you heard what I heard, you’d know what I’m talking about.”

  “Not all famous people were so great when they started out.”

  “Nobody who ever made it was that bad at the beginning!”

  “Jing-nan, don’t you see that you’re treating her the same way her father treats her? If you encouraged her to pursue her dream, maybe she wouldn’t become famous but she’d definitely stop acting out in school.”

  Nancy had really hit on something there. I looked down at my feet. I was being a jerk to Mei-ling. Who was I, really, to say she had no talent? I didn’t like popular music but clearly there was an audience for it.

  “You’re right, Nancy.”

  She stood up and brushed her smock down flat. “Of course I’m right. I’m going to take this food back to the meeting room.”

  “You’re sure you can’t hang out with me some more?”

  “I told you! I’m in charge of the Taida mobilization. If I slack off, everyone else will, too!”

  I stood up and we hugged again before she left.

  Damn, if Bauhaus, the CD store, were still open, I would go there now. Nancy told me the space is a Starbucks now.

  I wondered what the heidaoren who had owned Bauhaus was doing these days. I guess there was some poetic justice in the fact that illegal music downloading had driven out of business a store that sold bootleg CDs, but Bauhaus certainly served a demand while it was around.

  Organized crime isn’t always an evil thing in Taiwan. Sure, they handle a lot of illegal dumping and they cheap out on construction. But they also had installed cable television throughout the island while the government sat on its hands, unsure of how to coordinate through different jurisdictions. The gangs simply rolled out the wire and threaded it through where they could. People had been dying for cable back then. The government didn’t give us what we wanted, but the heidaoren did. Good for them!

  Whoever can make things happen, we Taiwanese back them one hundred percent.

  Speaking of people who make things happen, my phone rang and I answered right away when I saw that it was Big Eye.

  Dispensing with pleasantries, he asked, “Is Mei-ling with you?”

  “No. She’s at her internship.” I was walking north on Xinsheng Road, which would eventually take me to the jutting western border of Da’an Forest Park. I always seemed to gravitate to that park when I didn’t know what to do with myself.

  “Internship?” Big Eye asked, articulating each syllable. “I thought she was maybe going to work at your food stall.” I heard him swig a drink and give a satisfied exhale.

  “She worked there one night but I found her a better job.” I crossed the street and found myself on the perimeter of the park. I passed a group of Chinese visitors arguing about where to go next.

  “She’s not answering her phone,” Big Eye said. “She must be really busy.”

  “Her boss probably confiscated her cell phone.”

  “Oh,” he said, sounding impressed. “Must be a good boss. What is she doing? And where?”

  “Mei-ling is doing office stuff at Lee & Associates in Taipei 101. It’s a hedge fund run by an old classmate of mine. The Lees are a pretty prominent mainlander family.” The wind rose cinematically and the trees at the perimeter of the park swayed, making a white noise that masked the voices of the Chinese tourists.

  “The boss probably took Mei-ling’s phone so she couldn’t tip someone off on what stocks to buy.”

  “I didn’t even think about that,” I said.

  Big Eye cackled. “I know all the angles, Jing-nan! You think I’m stupid because I didn’t go to school?”

  “Big Eye, you’re smarter than I’ll ever be,” I admitted. “I would never lie to you about anything.”

  Over the line I heard ice clinking and then a slight delay before he spoke. “I know, I know,” Big Eye said. “That’s why I trust you with my daughter.”

  He sounded like he was in a good mood. Maybe he was buzzed. This was a good chance to talk about Mei-ling’s dreams. Meanwhile, the trees began bucking like water buffalo stuck in mud. A storm was upon us.

  “Say, Big Eye, I was wondering if you ever thought about getting Mei-ling some singing lessons.”

  “Why?” The way he asked made it sound like a threat.

  “She wants to be a singer. If you encouraged her, then maybe . . .”

  “If I encouraged her, I would be prolonging her delusion and wasting my money. You’ve no doubt been tortured by one of her songs by now. She sucks.”

  “She might behave better in school if you helped her pursue her dream.”

  “Did she tell you this?” A crack of lightning broke the sky. Grey sheets of cool rain swept down. My arms became drenched as I used my free hand to cover my phone. I wasn’t going to allow this conversation to be disconnected by a sudden storm.

  “Actually,” I said, “my girlfriend suggested that maybe what Mei-ling needs is encouragement.” I peered across the street, searching for refuge. The Chinese tourists had gone into turtle formation, interlocking their opened umbrellas into plates of a gigantic shell. My eyes were drawn to the windows of a Friendly Mart that glowed in the rain like an electric bug zapper. I jogged to the corner and across the street.

  “Don’t listen to your girlfriend.” Big Eye sounded like he’d tasted something sour. “Girls all stick together. Don’t you know this by now, Jing-nan? I thought you were a man!”

  Some people blame Confucian values for Taiwanese chauvinism. Others blame residual Japanese culture. Maybe it’s both. It doesn’t really matter. It’s fucked up.

  “This is not a man versus woman battle,” I told Big Eye. “I’m worried about my little cousin. Your daughter is a sixteen-year-old girl. Shouldn’t you support her interests?”

  I entered the Friendly Mart. I was assaulted by lights bright enough for an autopsy theater, unnervingly clean floors, and optimized product placement dictated by corporate headquarters. The complete antithesis of the beautiful chaos of the night market. I stood near the soup station and looked over the sausages and skewers. Up close they looked like the fake rubber food in restaurant display windows.

  “Listen, Jing-nan,” said Big Eye. “I give her everything she needs and more—iPads, iPhones, Galaxies. Gan! I bought her a galaxy of gadgets and she still won’t give up the singing!”

  “Maybe one reason Mei-ling won’t give it up is because you’re pressuring her to give it up.”

  “If someone’s shooting heroin, do you encourage them to do more drugs to get them to quit?”

  “Singing isn’t illegal.”

  I heard the tinkling sounds that ice cubes make in a glass after a last gulp. “The way she sings, it should be,” he muttered. “Well, the most important thing is that I finally got her away from Chong. You haven’t heard any sign of him, have you?”

  I felt my mouth go dry. Did Big Eye know?

  “Well, he came to my apartment last night,” I said. “He wanted to see Mei-ling, but I convinced him to go back to Taichung.”

  “I heard Chong was in Taipei. He had to clear it with Black Sea so he could enter their turf. He had s
aid it was about a girl. Black Sea thought Chong and his darkie friends might be trying to set up a branch of their gang in Taipei.”

  I couldn’t imagine why Black Sea, the biggest criminal organization in Taiwan, would be concerned about a single person of interest in their turf. After all, not only did they have politicians in their pockets, some Black Sea members were politicians. I guess they couldn’t let anything slip and from Chong’s point of view, it was best for him to ask for permission to enter first.

  Chong. He hadn’t turned out to be the gangster I’d expected. I would call him a nice guy. Naïve, even. Certainly not someone who deserved to be slurred.

  “Big Eye, you don’t have to call Indonesian people ‘darkies.’”

  “You’re right. I don’t.”

  I became aware that a Friendly Mart employee was giving me the evil eye. I held the phone against my chest and said, “I’m just waiting for the rain to stop. Do I have to buy something?”

  He jerked his head at me. “My mother’s from Indonesia,” he spat. “Does that make me a ‘darkie’?”

  “I wasn’t talking about you,” I said weakly.

  “Yes, you were!” He pointed to the rain outside. “Now get the fuck out of my darkie store!”

  “Hold on,” I said.

  The second Friendly Mart employee abandoned his post at the checkout and came at me wielding a mop. It was clear that they didn’t care for any repeat business from me and the situation was quickly developing into a two-on-one thumping. I only knew how to grapple one-on-one.

  I held up a hand. “I’m going.”

  I jogged back into the rain and slipped down two doors to stand under the awning of a pharmacy. The deluge splashed against the tarp, sending mists of water across my face. I brought the phone up to my ear and heard Big Eye laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  “God, Jing-nan, you sounded like a scared little girl! If someone told me to leave their store, I’d put my hands in my pockets and tell them to make me! Do you ever stand your ground on anything, little boy?”

  “I’m standing my ground on Mei-ling. Give her a chance.”

  “Ah,” he said in a drawn out exhale. “You know what? I don’t care, in the end. If you think it’s going to help keep her behavior in line, that’s all I want.” Thunder suddenly cracked so loud I even heard it in the ear I had pressed to the phone. No, wait. That sound was Big Eye leisurely cracking melon seed shells with his teeth. He tried to hack out a seed that had gone down the wrong way and it felt like he was spitting on me.

  Close to eleven that night, a victorious Peggy and defeated Mei-ling arrived at Unknown Pleasures. I slid over to let them sit with me at a table.

  “How did today go?” I asked Mei-ling.

  “It went just fantastic!” Peggy gushed. Suddenly, a look of concern came over her face. “You have a restroom here, don’t you?”

  “Right here,” I said. “I wouldn’t let my good ole classmate use the common bathroom.”

  “I’m sure it’s sparkling,” she said as she dropped her saddlebag of a purse into Mei-ling’s lap and patted my cousin’s shoulder meaningfully. You’d better not let anything happen to this bag, the gesture said.

  Mei-ling watched Peggy strut off with disdain. “She’s a functioning alcoholic,” she stated.

  “She’s a workaholic, too,” I said. “That’s one good quality.”

  Mei-ling stared hard at me, trying to turn me to stone. “How could you leave me with her?”

  My hands formed a prayer position. “Do you know how many people would die for an internship with the Lee family? You can learn how money really works there.”

  “I know how money really works. I’ve seen how Big Eye moves his little cash piles around.”

  Frankie walked over and slid a plate of skewers between us. I admired the glistening char on the chicken intestines, which were perfectly folded into a string of continuous Ws.

  You may not think it matters much if your skewer is neat or not. You’d be extremely wrong, too. When someone has trained enough to precisely fashion each skewer, she or he is likely also fastidious about the freshness of the food and the cleanliness of the preparation area.

  Frankly, it’s easy to learn how to skewer folded intestines. After some practice, nearly anybody can do it. Mei-ling herself was becoming halfway decent at it on her first night. After a week at it, the knowledge is embedded in your fingers. You could make thousands of perfect skewers while in a subconscious state, thinking of the time when you and your high-school sweetheart were going to conquer the world.

  Other things in a kitchen are much more linear. They don’t get any easier with experience or repetition. No matter how many times you scrape grill grates clean, once you know how, you can’t do it any faster. Likewise, the only way to be more efficient at mopping a floor is by cutting corners.

  If those intestines you’ve ordered are looking as sloppy as a victim in a cheap slasher film, put them down. Seeing the state of the kitchen that served it is probably more horrifying than that movie.

  I picked up a skewer and spun it slowly in my hand. The black char and meat browning were even on both sides.

  “Even if I weren’t hungry,” I said, “I wouldn’t be able to resist this.”

  Mei-ling continued to sulk but she picked up a skewer and looked it over. “It is beautiful,” she said.

  “Perfect,” I said with my mouth full. Mei-ling dug in and her mood improved. As soon as I could I told her, “I’ve got some good news for you. I talked to Big Eye today.”

  “What’s good? Is he dying?”

  “Don’t say that so close to the Mid-Autumn Festival!” I chided her. She rolled her eyes and kept eating. Actually, it was bad year-round to speak of the death of one’s parents, even if they were already dead. “Listen, Mei-ling, he’s going to pay for you to take singing lessons, as long as you agree to behave.”

  “Fuck that,” she yelled in English.

  “Hey, watch the language, Mei-ling,” said Dwayne. “This is a family establishment. If you want to curse, keep it down.”

  Mei-ling went silent, but it wasn’t because of Dwayne.

  “Gan!” said Peggy as she returned to the table. “You guys are talking so loud!”

  Dwayne rubbed his nose with his thumb. “I’m going to allow that one to curse because she’s experienced life,” he declared.

  “Hey stud, get me a cup of soda and ice but just fill it halfway!” Peggy called to him. Dwayne abandoned Frankie and bounded across the stream of tourists for the fruit-shake stand. “Oopsie, I didn’t mean to send him on an errand, Jing-nan. Why don’t you have drinks here? They have good profit margins.”

  “They do, but then you have to load them in, store the syrup and seltzer tanks, store the cups and lids and straws, have an ice maker, and deal with the additional litter. On top of that, people feel entitled to ask for refills.” I waved the idea away with my bare skewer. “We just stick to what we’re good at and make money that way.”

  “You’re such a good businessman,” said Peggy. “How come you’re not the one working for my family?”

  “You’ve already got the brightest and best of our clan,” I said. “Please have a skewer.”

  “I’m on a diet,” said Peggy. “I never eat solids for dinner.” Dwayne returned with a plastic cup partially filled with Coke. She touched his elbow. “Ah, that’s the stuff. Thank you, big boy.” Dwayne went back behind the counter.

  Was he blushing?

  Peggy produced a flask from her purse and tipped it into the cup. Mei-ling looked at me directly and raised her eyebrows.

  “I’m glad you’re staying hydrated, Peggy,” I said.

  “I make sure to,” she said. “It’s an easy thing to overlook when you work as hard as I do. Whoops, I mean we do!” Peggy hugged Mei-ling with one arm.
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  “This is actually pretty late for Mei-ling to be working,” I said pointedly.

  “Well, I need her on the late side. She can come in later tomorrow, but Mei-ling has to be with me through the market openings in the US. She was so good today. It was a first day that will go down in history.” Peggy took a generous swig from her cup and patted her chest.

  Big Eye would love Peggy, I thought.

  Mei-ling stood up and gave a huge fake yawn that would work on stage but be too big for film.

  “I should be going to bed,” she said.

  “What time do you want Mei-ling in tomorrow?” I asked.

  “Oh, you know,” said Peggy. “Anytime is fine.”

  “Seriously. What time?”

  “Two is fine.”

  I also stood up.

  “What,” cried Peggy, “you’re going, too, Jing-nan? How can you leave your old classmate?”

  “I’ll be back. I’m just making sure the best intern in the world gets home all right.”

  Peggy toasted me with her cup.

  •••

  I endured a short MRT ride of Mei-ling’s bitching about how the hedge fund’s database was completely out of date, how the computers ran operating systems from two generations ago, and how Peggy had spent the entire day texting or on instant messenger.

  Mei-ling had to reconfigure the network so she didn’t have to walk to the other side of the office, a half-mile jog apparently, to pick up her printouts. The poor girl also figured out a way to make the spreadsheets update with closing stock prices automatically instead of keying each one in.

  She was much better at computers than I had suspected. I guess you learn a lot when writing and editing original compositions (I hesitate to call them “songs”) on a computer.

  I suffered some more humble-bragging about Mei-ling’s technological prowess as we got off the train and walked to her building. But by the time we got to the lobby, I couldn’t take it any more and blurted out, “But did you learn anything today?”

  She searched the floor for an answer. “I did,” she admitted.