Skeleton Women (20 page)

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Authors: Mingmei Yip

Tags: #General Fiction

BOOK: Skeleton Women
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Jinying leaned over the railing. “Father! Hold on tight!”
I had no choice but to join in. “Master Lung, you’ll be fine! A doctor’s on his way right now!”
Other voices were heard in the chilly, tense air.
“Hang on there!”
“Don’t be frightened—help is on the way!”
“Your lucky star is protecting you!”
Finally Gao, helping a soaking wet Lung, cautiously stepped onto the deck.
Cheers burst in the air from the crowd.
As if on cue, the ship’s doctor arrived with his medicine box and two uniformed men. Immediately he pounded on Lung’s, then Gao’s, chest to clear the water from their lungs. There was much coughing and spitting, and soon color began to sneak back into their faces.
Blankets were draped over the two shivering bodies. Jinying and I knelt down beside them.
The young master asked, “How are you doing, Father?”
I chimed in, smiling faintly. “Master Lung, don’t worry, you’re safe now.” I added, “Again, it proves your lucky star is shining high to protect you.”
Gao, though a little pale, looked fine. But it took a few moments longer for Lung to completely regain his senses.
Then, to our surprise, he even regained his sense of humor, suddenly cracking a joke. “Hmm ... then why did I fall into the sea in the first place, huh?”
I was relieved. Since he was in a good mood even after such a scary incident, he must not have realized his plunge into the ocean was not an accident. However, I was also regretful that he had escaped death yet again. Maybe Lung was right about
fengshui.
And maybe my boss, Big Brother Wang, had picked the wrong girl. For it seemed that I truly
was
his bitterest rival’s lucky star!
People nodded approvingly and smiled, among them the Japanese couple, who cast me a disappointed look. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, Zhu and the other bodyguards pushed aside the crowd to get to their boss.
Zhu asked, “Master Lung—”
The doctor cut him off sharply. “Enough talking! These two gentlemen are chilled and need to be treated promptly.” Then he turned to the onlookers. “Please go back. I’ll take them to the dispensary for a thorough checkup. Make way! Move now!”
Reluctantly the crowd dispersed, heading toward the exit to go back downstairs. Four uniformed sailors helped Lung and Gao onto stretchers, then soon disappeared.
The doctor turned to Jinying. “Are you his son?”
Jinying nodded, and the doctor asked for his room number. After that, he said, “It’s been a hectic evening. Go get some rest. When I have finished my examination, I’ll send someone to tell you. It may take a while.”
Zhu asked, “May we go with them?”
The doctor gave him a suspicious once-over and said sarcastically, “No, the exam room is too small for your gang here. You can all wait in the ballroom.”
Had he known what kind of person Zhu was, the doctor wouldn’t have spoken to him so flippantly!
As if hearing my thoughts, he softened his tone. “Anyway, don’t worry too much; they’ll be all right.”
After the doctor left, Zhu said to his boss’s son, “I think we all need a drink. You want to join us, Young Master?”
Jinying shook his head. “No, I’m tired. I’ll stay in my room and wait for the doctor’s news.”
Zhu turned to me. “Miss Camilla?”
“I’m tired, too. I’ll take a nap and wait for word.”
“All right,” Zhu said to his boss’s son, “but when you get the news, come tell us in the bar.”
Once Jinying and I were back to our floor, instead of letting me go inside my room, he pushed me inside his.
“Jinying! What do you think you are doing?”
“This is the perfect chance, Camilla. Everyone’s away, so we have at least an hour together.”
Ignoring my protests, he scooped me up, carried me straight to the bed, and impatiently pulled at my clothes. It must have been the release of tension, for instead of struggling to free myself from his grasp, I found myself helping him remove my dress, my bra, my panties... .
19
Plaza Athénée
T
he next morning, Lung held a small celebration in his luxury suite. Because Gao had saved Lung’s life, he was invited, for the second time, to share his boss’s table and meal. His three underlings stood guard outside the room.
Lung, still in his pajamas, looked fully recovered from last night’s mishap. He ravenously gulped down his ham, eggs, potatoes, and toast and even cracked a few jokes. Unfortunately the chance that he’d catch pneumonia and die was vanishing as fast as the food disappearing into his mouth.
My heart was clicking like an abacus, but I tried my best to act calm and cheerful, so as not to arouse any suspicion.
I brought up last night’s incident but only risked doing so in a humorous light. “Master Lung, were you trying to imitate our great poet Li Bai by scooping up the moon reflected on the sea?”
My patron thought for a while, then burst out, “You’re damn right Camilla! Though I love money, once in a while I’d also like to be a poet—ha! I especially like Li Bai’s ‘Drinking under the Moon.’ His broken eyebrow knit as he stumbled over the poem’s famous lines. “I should take advantage of the moon’s company to enjoy spring... . When I sing, the moon’s shadow ... when I ... when I ...”
I immediately came to his rescue.
I sang, and the moon danced with me.
I danced, and my shadow danced with me.
Sober, we talked together happily.
Drunk, we went our separate ways.
We met by accident, but someday,
We shall meet again along the Milky Way.
Lung smiled proudly at his son, his right-hand man, and his head bodyguard. “Wow! See how smart my Camilla is, huh? That’s why she’s my lucky star. Last night I cheated death again, ha!”
I smiled coyly. “Thank you, Master Lung. Like the moon, my light is but a reflection from you, the sun.”
This time Lung laughed out loud, making his belly shiver like a small earthquake. “See how her tongue is washed in oil? I love that!”
Jinying cast me a disapproving stare, probably resenting my overly greased tongue. Then I noticed that Gao, looking upset, kept chomping down his bacon, eggs, potatoes, and whatnot. Maybe he was bitter that he had jumped in after Lung to save him yet I was the one who got the credit because I was supposedly the bringer of good luck. But that was life. You do your job, get paid, and the rest is up to your boss to decide. And the boss can be a gangster, a Buddha, God, karma, fate. Maybe Gao still feared that I’d tell Lung what had happened in the bathroom. Or maybe I had broken his heart, as I had broken Jinying’s.
As I was feeling relieved that Lung had succumbed to my sweet talk, Zhu looked up from his plate and threw out a question. “Master Lung, we’re all glad you’re all right, but what happened?”
How came no one had thought of asking that question earlier? Of course he’d been pushed by the Japanese. My heart skipped a beat.
To my great relief, Lung replied, “I don’t really remember. Maybe because of all the wine and the dancing, I was so exhausted that I fell overboard amid the crowd running from the fire. Anyway, the whole place was chaos.” He turned to Gao. “Right?”
The bodyguard stopped chewing; his knife and fork were suspended in midair. “Master Lung, you said you were tired and wanted some fresh air, so I walked you up to the deck. Then you asked for a cigarette and another drink. As I was on my way down to the bar, the fire alarm went off. It took me a while to get back to you because everyone was rushing up to the deck. It was after I’d made my way through the crowd then I heard the splash. I pressed through another crowd, saw you, and plunged in.”
Lung didn’t respond but nodded approvingly, then went on eating with great relish.
With this new revelation, it was as if a heavy stone had been lifted from my chest. Now everyone resumed clinking their knives and forks and smacking their lips. Though Gao pretended that he was only interested in his food, his eyes were also devouring me.
Gao was a man of action and few words. I heard that he was single and didn’t even have a girlfriend. Girls he met would fall for him, and friends proposed eligible brides. But a wedding banquet was nowhere in sight. Poor man, I thought, as I watched him sip bitter black coffee with an equally bitter expression. Too bad he loved me, since I could not possibly love him back. Nor any other man, for that matter.
I thought of the two men who were in love with me—and who had just made love to me. My eyes wandered to the young master, and I mentally compared the two. Gao was tall, muscular, loyal, cautious, responsible. Jinying was equally handsome but in an entirely different way—medium build, delicate features, refined manner. He was soft and naïve, the child of a privileged and protected life.
Gao, on the other hand, came from a poor family who used him to pay off a debt. Painfully, he had worked his way up to become Lung’s most trusted bodyguard, by taking brutal knife wounds and excruciating bullets for his boss. Each knife and bullet hole, instead of turning women away, worked more powerfully on them than any aphrodisiac. Women, including myself, could not resist taking this damaged man into their arms to lick his wounds with their warm lips. Why had none of them been invited to stay?
Jinying’s experience of life was luxury and privilege. However, rich or poor, privileged or impoverished, neither man, it seemed, had tasted much happiness, because they couldn’t have what they most wanted.
Fate always has its own plan, in this case choosing me to be a spy, Jinying to be my patron’s son, and Gao to work for my boss’s bitterest rival. Had I not been thrown into this star-crossed configuration, I am not sure whom I would have picked to be my lover.
As my mind was imagining all kinds of possible or impossible scenarios with these two men, suddenly Lung spoke, his hoarse voice slashing the air like scissors ripping silk.
“I didn’t drink all that much last night.”
Our ears perked up like a dog’s. We all stopped eating as we put down our silverware, cups, or glasses and listened.
A graveyard silence followed.
Zhu was the first to speak, his small eyes darting between his boss and us. “So?”
The boss replied. “So I don’t think I was drunk.”
“And?” Jinying was the second one who dared to pick up the conversation when his father’s face was as dark as the mushrooms on his plate.
“So it’s not possible that I simply fell,” Lung huffed, his hand hitting hard on the table. Everything—knives, forks, spoons, plates, salt and pepper containers, as well as we—began to tremble.
“Then what happened, Father?” Jinying asked, dabbing his mouth and paying full attention.
“Now I remember—” Lung stopped in midsentence, his eyes scanning us for any response.
“Remember what?” his son implored innocently.
“I. Was. Pushed.” One by one, the words spit from his mouth like mahjong tiles thrown onto the gaming table.
I bit my lip to will myself to stay calm. Then, with great effort, I put on a very tender smile and looked at my patron like a mother her firstborn. “Master Lung, last night on the deck, it was complete chaos. So maybe you were accidentally pushed by the panicky crowd, or even by children desperately looking for their parents.”
“Maybe. But maybe not.” As he stared at me, the gangster head’s expression softened—to my great relief.
“Master Lung, last night everyone seemed to have lost their mind, screaming and pushing like crazy in all directions.” I took the risk of painting an exaggerated picture.
He studied me, raising both his slashed eyebrow and his voice. “Then why was I the only one who ended up in the sea?”
Hearing that, Jinying immediately came to my rescue by asking his romantic rival, “Gao, you didn’t see anyone suspicious, did you?”
Gao shook his crew-cut head. “I don’t think so. Everything happened so quickly, and there were so many people.”
The young master went on. “Father, maybe you leaned too close to the railing, and someone bumped into you from behind.”
Lung said, “Could be. But I think this matter needs some investigation.”
With an evil grin, Zhu volunteered, “I’ll do that, Master Lung. And if I find out who did this, his brain will be like—” He concluded his sentence by poking the scrambled egg, then squirting a pool of ketchup onto it.
“Good! Find him soon!” his boss said, waving a dismissive hand. “Now let’s finish our breakfast.”
 
To distract the gangster head later that night, I had no choice but to offer yet another variation of my perverse, contortionist sex. Fortunately nothing came of Lung’s well-founded suspicion that he had been pushed overboard. Perhaps he was so infatuated with me and addicted to my sexual bonanza that he never pursued the investigation. Although Zhu did ask the captain for the ship’s passenger list, fortunately he couldn’t find anything suspicious. So finally, to my tremendous relief, the matter was dropped.
 
After a month’s imprisonment on the boundless sea, we finally arrived in
huadu,
the Flower Metropolis. Paris. When we stepped off the ship onto dry land, a stretch limousine was waiting to take us straight to our first destination, the Hotel Plaza Athénée in Paris’s eighth arrondissement. Though my mind was burdened with a hundred shadowy thoughts, my eyes couldn’t help but brighten beholding this famous city. Wide boulevards and cobblestone streets were lined with thick-foliaged trees casting dancing shadows on the fair-skinned, sharp-featured Parisians. Elegant, svelte ladies in body-hugging dresses with matching hats, gloves, and parasols were accompanied by dark-suited, straight-backed gentlemen. Green-roofed low buildings decorated with crawling vines and intricately patterned windows all beckoned me closer to explore what lay within.
I stuck my head out of the car and filled my lungs with the Parisian air, as the breeze caressed my face with an exotic massage.
Lung cast me a smug look as he squeezed my hand. “Like what you’re seeing so far, Camilla?”
“Of course, Master Lung. Thank you so much for bringing me here!”
“I’ll bring you anywhere as long as you behave” was the boss’s teasing answer.
An hour later, our car pulled up in front of the famous Plaza Athénée. As we walked toward its grand entrance, the first thing I noticed was that its name had commas raining on the first two
e’
s. These “raindrops” made the hotel impossible for me to pronounce, even with my “heavenly” voice.
I’d been to a lot of high-class places in Shanghai, but nothing like this hotel, which was truly fit for a king or queen. In our case, the underground King Lung and me, as his queen of the moment. Outside, the grand building had balconies protruding like pregnant bellies. Pink blossoms crawled along the iron grillwork, unwilling to let go, like a baby’s umbilical cord fastened to its mother’s womb. On these outcroppings pretty women appeared and disappeared. One gazed meditatively onto the street below, a cigarette between her dainty fingers as smoke drifted up from her pouty lips. Another gazed deeply into a man’s eyes as if they were engaged in a staring contest. I wondered, who were these women? Wives, mistresses, courtesans, and perhaps even a spy or two like me?
Uniformed doormen ushered us in with low bows. Inside, the grandiose Western décor dazzled me with its walls, pillars, and floor of polished marble, its golden velvet curtains, lush, reddish-gold carpets, and huge chandeliers shooting out sparks to further glorify the rich and powerful. Who could afford such lavishness? I assumed royalty, aristocrats, multimillionaire businessmen, and probably more than a few French gangsters.
The whole effect was of
shi,
overwhelming presence, the principle emphasized over and over in
The Art of War
. Had this hotel’s architect, like me, been an avid reader of the famous military treatise?
In the lobby, we appreciated the décor before we were shown to our rooms. A few Western guests cast us curious glances, then nodded and smiled at me appreciatively.
Pausing at the door to his suite, Lung said to Zhu, his son, and me, “All of you come to my suite at six for a pre-dinner drink.” Then he turned to Gao. “You and the others can take turns guarding my room. But don’t be too obvious, you got it?”
“Of course, Master Lung,” Gao replied.
 
For the visit to Lung’s booked-months-ahead luxury suite, I put on an ankle-length plain purple dress with a plunging neckline. The minimal design was intentional, so people’s eyes would be directed to my bulging breasts instead of silly frills, lace, or tassels created by some dressmaker. However, to add an interesting touch to the simple dress, I threw a pink feather boa across my shoulders at an artistic angle. This created a peek-a-boo effect with my pulsing half-moons. Finally, a camellia pinned behind my ear completed my carefully orchestrated songstress-seductress look.
Walking toward Lung’s suite, I saw Gao and another bodyguard talking and smoking in a corner. Once he spotted me, Gao knocked lightly on the door and let me in.
This was my first time inside a luxury suite in a foreign country. The whole room was energized by its harmonious blend of orange, beige, and gold. Against one wall was a chaise longue, a piece of elongated heaven for the wealthy and spoiled to relax on this evil earth. In the middle of the room stood a low, gilded table on which were placed a big bowl of fruit, small plates of assorted chocolates, and a ceramic vase filled with pink orchids. Behind the table on a gold-bordered sofa sat Lung and his son. Zhu was nearby, smoking and looking restless.

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