I really don’t want to do this.
“Introductions taken care of!” Vicky told me. “You just tell Gugu that Mr. Cao wants him to look at art, for museum project. It is his filial duty.”
I mean, how lame is that?
Especially because the whole museum thing was actually my idea-an art museum in Xingfu Cun, the ghost city Sidney Cao built.
When I say the museum was my idea, what I mean is it was a line of bullshit I spouted to get myself out of a jam, nothing I’d thought of in advance or knew anything about or had any intention of doing. I was just trying to appeal to Sidney’s ego-“Do something for your legacy.” Meaning, So your three kids won’t just sell off your billion-dollar collection after you die.
It worked at the time. I got out of the jam. But shit like this always comes back and bites me in the ass.
Case in point.
Gugu turns toward the girl in the rhinestone baseball cap, smiles, and pours her some champagne. Marsh leans back in his chair, watching the two, eyes at half-mast, still with that little smile. Sailor Girl drifts over to him, glass of champagne in one hand, cigarette in the other. He grins, reaches up, and puts his arm around her, hand brushing her sideboob. She perches on his lap for a moment. I can’t tell if she’s comfortable there or not.
Just get it over with, I tell myself.
But maybe have a drink first.
I grab a glass of wine off the tray of a passing waiter and take a slug. Although I’m not the world’s most educated wino, I can tell this is pretty good stuff. It’s the kind of thing you get an education in, hanging out with rich people.
Slow down, McEnroe, I tell myself.
I find an empty spot against the railing, where I’m not in Gugu and Marsh’s direct line of sight but I can still keep an eye on them, and sip my wine. The music pounds, the beats slamming into my chest, light show keeping time, like synchronized fireworks.
I really want to get out of here.
I drink some more, about two-thirds of the glass, just enough to feel the beginnings of a comforting buzz. Put the glass down on the bar and approach Gugu’s table.
“Cao xiansheng, ni hao,” I say, practically shouting over the music. “Sorry to bother you.”
He looks up. Pushes his limp hair off his face and stares at me.
“I’m Ellie McEnroe. Your father wanted us to meet.”
Gugu continues to stare. His bangs start drifting back over one eye. I’m thinking either Vicky Huang screwed up this introduction (unlikely) or he wants nothing to do with me.
“To discuss the museum project,” I say, feeling my cheeks flush.
He sweeps his hair off his face again and finally nods. “Qing zuo,” he says, indicating a chair across from him and to his right.
Please sit.
I do. He tilts his head at Rhinestone-Cap Girl and mutters something I can’t hear. She straightens up, grabs a glass of wine from the table, and hands it to me. Behind her, Sailor Girl covers her mouth with her hand and giggles.
“Xiexie,” I say. She responds with an eye roll. I’m guessing she doesn’t much like playing waitress.
I sip the wine. “Very good,” I say, because it is.
Gugu shrugs.
Boy, we’re having some fun now. I wonder how long I’m obligated to do this.
Meet his son, meet this American, offer your expert opinion.
“So,” Gugu finally says, in English. “You’re involved with my father’s museum.”
“Yes,” I say. “Yes, I am.”
“And he wants you to talk to me.”
I nod.
He tosses back his drink. Lifts his hand to call a waiter. “Why?”
“Well, I represent some emerging contemporary Chinese artists,” I say, and I’m kind of proud of myself for remembering the proper art lingo. “Your father wanted to get your opinion on some of the work. To see if it belongs in the museum.”
Gugu snorts. “What do I know about it? Why ask me? I’m not even interested in these things.”
“Well… uh, he wants you to be involved. Because it’s kind of a big deal. You know, it’s his legacy and all.”
He stares at me with the eye not covered by the hair curtain. “If I am involved, then why not my brother and my sister?”
I sip my wine. It’s a good point.
So I fake it.
“They will be involved, too. This is just my first meeting.”
I say this, and I’m thinking, Oh, great. Because getting involved with one of Sidney Cao’s kids is bad enough, and now I’ve opened the door to the other two. It’s like what you’re not supposed to do with vampires, right? Invite them in.
“I see,” Gugu says.
The waiter arrives with his drink. Some amber stuff in a tumbler. Gugu tosses it back. Beads of sweat rise on his forehead. I’m guessing he’s getting pretty plastered.
“So what do you want?” He hiccups. Leans back in his chair, legs splayed. “Meaning, what does my father want me to do?”
We didn’t exactly cover that part of the plan. So once again I fake it.
“Just like I said. Look at some work. And talk about the… the philosophy. And the goals. Of the museum.”
Gugu laughs. “The goals are whatever my father wants them to be.”
“Yeah.” I drink some wine. I really suck at this-being all undercover. Getting people to tell me what I need to find out.
Besides, I know he’s right. This whole museum thing is about Sidney’s ego. Even if Gugu did get involved, decided he really gave a shit about art, and about a museum, and about his dad’s legacy, I’m pretty sure if he and Sidney disagreed about something, Gugu would end up on the losing end of the decision.
“I think he’s just hoping you’ll take an interest,” I finally say. “Because, you know, someone will need to be in charge after he’s gone.”
“Fuck that,” Gugu pronounces. He holds up his hand for the waiter. “Let Tiantian or Meimei take an interest. I have better things to do.”
Tiantian, the older brother. Meimei, the girl in the middle.
“Like what?” I think to ask.
Gugu shrugs. “Maybe movies.” He leans over and mutters something to Rhinestone-Cap Girl again. She pouts a little. Tilts her head at Sailor Girl, who grabs another glass of wine off the table and brings it to me, pausing a little to execute a sort of bad charm-school curtsy.
I take the glass. “Thank you.”
“I’m Celine.” Now she tilts her head at Rhinestone-Cap Girl, who has resumed her barnacle duty at Gugu’s side. “That is Betty.”
“I’m Ellie.”
“Very happy to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
She giggles. She seems to do that a lot. “This is such an interesting party. Don’t you think?”
“I, uh… yeah.”
“You don’t really think so?” Her head’s tilted down, and she’s looking at me through thick mascaraed eyelashes, a little smile on her face.
“Celine, why are you bothering her?” Gugu snaps.
“She’s not bothering me,” I say, because I don’t want any trouble and besides, he’s being kind of a dick.
“Sometimes Gugu is too polite,” Celine says. “He doesn’t really know how to have fun.” She blows a thin stream of cigarette smoke in Gugu’s direction.
Okay, maybe she’s kind of a bitch, too. But looking at Gugu’s sweating face and bored expression, I have to wonder if she’s right.
“Movies, huh,” I say to Gugu. “You want to make them?”
“Sure, why not? Culture and soft power are part of the new Five-Year Plan.” He laughs.
Next to him Marsh laughs, too.
The guy I’m supposed to be evaluating for his moral character.
I turn to him. Put on my best fake smile. Which I’m pretty sure isn’t very good. “I’m Ellie McEnroe,” I say.
He smiles. “Marsh Brody.” He’s got a gunmetal shadow of beard outlining his broad cheeks, shading his jaw. I’m guessing he’s the kind of guy who cultivates a two-day stubble.