In Between Dreams (14 page)

“Hey, Ms. B, how’ve you been?” he queried. “You look a little frustrated.”

Bailey slowed her escape to say, “Just one of those days.”

“When we had a day like that we used to say ‘It’s another day in the corps, where every day is a holiday and every meal is a feast.’ Obviously we were being sarcastic.” Mike winked as he stated the obvious.

Bailey nodded. “Thanks, Mike, my dad used to tell me to not take myself so seriously. That’s good advice for today.” She reached her fist over the counter for their traditional fist bump.

“See ya, Mike.”

You need to get your shit together
, she thought as she ran across the street to her car. Bailey silently committed to get back in focus and drove back to her apartment with new resolve.

After a week of focusing solely on Sierra’s request, Bailey was confident she was finally where Sierra wanted her to be. She checked and double-checked her work, making sure it exceeded Sierra’s expectations. Bailey sent an appointment e-mail to Sierra asking for a meeting the following Friday. She was there early. She made sure she looked her best by wearing a black pencil skirt and uncomfortable black heels. Her makeup and hair were done to perfection. Her intention was to have Sierra stop worrying about her.

Bailey put a double espresso on Sierra’s desk and lifted her eyebrow at her. “So…” she asked nervously. “What’d you think of my last article?”

“Bailey Regan is back,” Sierra chirped, and lifted her coffee up as if to toast Bailey. “Did you take my advice?”

“Yeah, I called your editing friend. He’s really helpful. It was hard to take the critiquing at first,” she said as she sat down.

“You’re a natural, so you’ve never really needed criticism, but it worked out for you. Your last article was excellent. Front-page quality,” Sierra said proudly. “I think it’s time that I take you for tacos and tequila. That’s how Sierra celebrates. Tonight?”

Bailey nodded. “You’re
so
on!”

Sierra scribbled down an address and handed it to Bailey. “I’ll see you there at about eight. I’m going to invite my boyfriend and his friends too, so dress hot.”

“Sierra…”
she complained.

“Oh God. Don’t give me that ‘I don’t want to date’ bullshit,” she growled. “Okay, you have a weird-ass sleeping condition, but for God’s sake you have a job and friends and a life. You deserve a man or at least a little extracurricular activities if you know what I’m saying…” She winked at Bailey.

“I don’t know, Sierra,” Bailey said. She was still skeptical. She hadn’t actually dated in over four years.

“Nope. No. No ‘white girl problems’ excuses, B. I am getting you laid! If it’s the last thing I do,” Sierra told her seriously.

Bailey tried to suppress a yawn. “I’ll be there,” she promised.

“Good.” Sierra looked over a document on her desk carefully. “Are you almost done with the investigative report you’ve been working on?”

Bailey made a face at her boss. “Well, I’m getting there.”

“Oh, you’re getting there? I was thinking about putting it in our Sunday paper next week. I want it next Friday.” She looked Bailey up and down. She was trying to gauge her reaction. “Is that going to be a problem?”

Bailey frowned at Sierra. “It’s not ready.”

“Okay.” Sierra set her jaw and looked Bailey square in the eyes. “Where did the confident Bailey Regan that wrote this story go? She was just here a minute ago.”

Bailey gritted her teeth; she’d been avoiding this story for the better part of two weeks. She wanted to write it; she really did. But every time she sat down to start her research, her mind went back to her dream, back to Mei.

“I’m still here,” she promised. “I’ll get it to you. I promise.”

“Has the editor looked at it?”

Bailey scrunched up her nose. “Yes.”

“I’m guessing he doesn’t like it.”

“No.”

“What seems to be the problem?”

“He says it sounds…” Bailey tried to think of a better way to say what James said to her. “Robotic.”

“Ouch,” Sierra said. “James is a good guy. He’s a great reporter and an even better editor. But don’t let him deter you from working.”

Bailey nodded and stood up. “I won’t let you down.”

Sierra winked at Bailey, and Bailey excused herself from the office.

As she walked to her car, she felt an overwhelming urge to take a very long nap. She was still so exhausted, and she’d been throwing all of her energy into her work. She couldn’t help but feel proud of herself. She was back on Sierra’s “nice” list, and it had only taken two weeks. She gave herself a mental pat on the back on her drive home and decided her exhaustion was worth it.

When Bailey got home, she walked directly toward her computer. She really needed to finish this impending article.

She sipped her espresso while she waited for her computer to boot up. Once it was up and running, she focused on the background. It was a landscape photo of the Sydney Opera House and Harbour Bridge in Australia. She had once asked Daniel if he’d ever been there.

“For a Counting Crows concert once,” he said as if it was no big deal. Her face lit up with excitement. The Sydney Opera House was one place that Bailey had always wanted to visit.

She clicked on the document on her desktop and read over her article once again, looking for holes.

America has never been immune to organized crime. There is the mob, the mafia, and gangs, but an often overlooked organized crime unit in America are the tongs. The tongs are the Chinese American’s version of a Triad
.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with what a Triad is, here is a brief rundown. Triad refers to the many branches of Chinese Transnational organized crime organizations based in Hong Kong, Macau, Taiwan, and also in countries with significant Chinese populations, such as the Philippines, Malaysia, Singapore, the United States, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and the United Kingdom
.

The Triad history springs from almost 2,000 years back. Secret societies started forming in Hong Kong and surrounding areas to overthrow Han dynasty. In AD 9 the government, known as the Western Han dynasty, was overthrown violently by Wang Mang
.

Groups of men formed together in these secret societies (and later became known as Triads) as vigilantes to overthrow Wang Mang as he
took the seat before him. The cause was originally righteous and means were necessary. However when Wang Mang was eventually ousted from his throne, many branches of this secret society felt useless and had a hard time returning to that of a law-abiding citizen
.

The secret societies turned to crime groups and specialized in anything from underground gambling to extortion. The groups grew as time went on and run very large operations; some of these Triads live on the “blood in, blood out” mentality, while others bring people in and out as they please when more members are necessary
.

Fast-forward to mid-nineteenth century North America and you’ll find Chinese labor groups came over to America in the 1850s, and almost immediately, organized crime groups formed with them. Since Chinese women were so scarce in America when they first came over, a type of Underground Railroad began for Asian women. Groups brought them over so men could buy women to marry; if they weren’t bought for marriage, they were sold into a prostitution ring
.

Since the Triads formed in the early eighteenth century in China, it seemed that extortion and finding ways around the law was the first instinct for many Chinese men. So within the first couple of years in America, organized crime within the Chinese population grew immensely. When a problem arose, the first instinct was to group together to ward of the problem in numbers
.

Many people believe that this came from the innate fear that these men carried with them. They feared that if they did not form a gang, another group would and then rise against them
.

The Chi Kung Tong (now referred to as the Chinese Freemasons) was one of the first groups to form. They started small with extortion and worked their way up to running a prostitution ring
.

Though it is thought that these Chinese tongs that formed would spend a good deal of time defending themselves against other gangs of different nationalities like black or Hispanic gangs, they stayed away from that entanglement. In reality, the tongs found themselves fighting other Chinese groups. The tongs fought other large tong gangs involving land disputes and gambling debts. The first tong war in North America was in the 1860s when a member of Suey Sing Tong was found in bed with a
mistress of one of the Hop Sing Tong. After many men lost their lives from both tongs, the Suey Sing Tong returned the girl to the Hop Sing Tong and accepted defeat. All of this happened under the radar, unbeknownst to other members of the community. The tongs tend to keep to themselves and stick with their own kind
.

Before World War II, Chinatowns throughout America were believed to be a hodgepodge of violence and crime. Other nationalities rarely went into Chinatowns, believing that it would only result in seeing some sort of crime or becoming a victim to these gang violence. Though the violence had become exaggerated throughout America, the tongs and other Chinese didn’t attempt to correct these stereotypes. The tongs wanted to be feared
.

The San Francisco government, however, decided to start tours throughout Chinatown. They mandated tour guides and tour groups to walk tourists through the area to see the exotic town right in the middle of their own city. They were promised to see tong-on-tong violence and staged knife fights often occurred for the tourist viewing pleasure
.

This is thought to be the turn of the tide for Chinatowns, and the Chinese-American alliance. Previous to this, the US government had banned Chinese men from bringing their wives over (the Immigration Act of 1924). This was, and still to this day is, the only bill in America that banned a group by its race’s name. During World War II, this was changed when the Chinese government partnered with the United States against the Japanese
.

Bailey blinked her eyes a couple times. “I’m boring myself.” She stared dumbly at the screen. She grabbed the orange book that she was getting most of her research from an opened it.
Maybe there is a hidden gem
, she thought. That would be nice.

She began reading and highlighting the pages, when she heard Sierra’s ringtone and she jumped. She grabbed her phone quickly to answer it. “Hey,” Bailey said casually.

“B, your story on the homeless man at Pike’s marketplace is brilliant. Truly brilliant. You have such a great voice when you really care about something,” she stated sincerely. Bailey knew there would be a “but” coming.

“Thank you, Sierra.”

Sierra was silent for a moment. “I think we left things on the wrong note when you left.”

“What do you mean?” Bailey itched her brow and turned away from her computer to really listen to Sierra.

“Your writing voice can’t be taught. Your voice, the way you approach articles—that’s what I love about your work. Please don’t think I want you to write like that editor I sent you to. I really don’t want you to get the wrong impression.”

Bailey felt her heart swell, Sierra somehow knew exactly what Bailey needed to hear, “Wow, I—I’m kind of speechless.” Bailey said honestly.

“I know this is going to be a strange transition for you, but I need you to know I still believe in you, you and your work.”

Bailey grinned from ear to ear. “Sierra, you always know exactly the right thing to say.” Bailey put the book down and began typing. “I gotta go. I suddenly have gobs of inspiration.”

“That’s my girl,” Sierra said before hanging up. Bailey put both hands on the keyboard and filled in the blanks of the story with her unaltered voice. Bailey was going to
rock
this article.

ten.

B
ailey looked at herself in the mirror. She tried to not dwell on her overall physical shape. She knew because of her sleeping issues she was not getting enough exercise, the right things to eat, or any sun. She straightened her hair as best she could and donned a low-cut black top with some red skinny jeans. She slipped on a pair of rarely worn black heels, put a pair of flats in her purse just in case, and left her apartment.

Bailey couldn’t believe she was going out. She hadn’t been to a bar or any other place just for fun in at least six months. She walked to her car quickly and texted Sierra that she was on her way. She turned to her favorite hip-hop radio station for the ride. Bailey could feel her mood shift to excitement. She grinned at the road ahead of her like it was the promise of good things.

The last couple weeks had been hard on Bailey, but she was making a conscious effort to get out of her dark place. She was leaving behind her thoughts of Mei, the hopelessness of the disease she’d been cursed with, and her overall inability to move forward in her life. It was like a nightmare that lingered during her normal life. But she was moving on.

Bailey pulled up in her car and found a spot to park on the street at El Vecinidad. It was a bar and grill that Sierra swore by, and she said the employees knew her by name and her usual order. Bailey got out of her car and put her ID, credit card, and cell phone in her back pocket so she wouldn’t have to bring her purse inside. She pressed the power locks twice before taking a couple of quick steps safely on the sidewalk.
There was an excited cadence to her walk. Bailey was feeling better, better than she had for a long time. She had decided to perk up, and in turn, she had done just that.

The restaurant was a five–minute drive from her apartment and a block outside of Pike’s Marketplace. She could smell the familiar odor of the harbor and the fish market. The air had a slight chill from the most recent rainstorm, and Bailey could see the sun was beginning to set. There were groups of people standing in front of the bar, smoking cigarettes. A couple was leaning against the glass window, canoodling and giggling.

She loved the long nights and the feeling of summer in Seattle, although it didn’t seem to matter very much. She didn’t get to enjoy it as much as she’d like. She was always too busy sleeping. She missed the days when her life wasn’t taken over by her sleep attacks. But she was trying hard to put those feelings in the past for tonight.