Much as I hate to admit it, I’m feeling like John was right-I don’t want to be anywhere near any of these people. But what are my options for getting away from them? How do I tell Sidney Cao that I don’t want to have anything to do with him, his kids, or his museum? I mean, I tried saying no to Sidney before and ended up with his hired killers stalking me. Though I also did get a few free rides in his fancy private jet. I kind of liked that part.
You can’t think that way, McEnroe, I tell myself. You gotta figure out how to disentangle yourself from this guy. Without totally pissing him off.
“Still here.”
I flinch and try to cover it. Marsh. He stands too close to me, as usual, close enough so that I catch the scent of scotch on his breath.
“Yeah,” I say. “I was waiting on Gugu. We were supposed to have a meeting, but he never showed.” I shrug and take the last slug of my wine. “I’m heading out now.”
“He’s around.” Marsh gestures toward the east house. “I’ll take you.”
“That’s okay,” I say, maybe too quickly. “We’re going to reschedule.”
“You don’t want to pay your respects? Wouldn’t be too polite, to come to the party and not say hello.”
He’s got that shit-eating grin on his face, and I know this is some kind of setup, some kind of joke he wants to play on me, or worse.
I shrug again. “Yeah, well, sometimes that’s just the way it goes. I’m sure he’ll understand.”
I start to pull away. Marsh taps my shoulder. Lightly.
“Hey,” he says.
I turn. He’s staring at me with a kind of confounded expression. “Are you afraid of me?” he asks. Like it’s a real question.
“No,” I say. It’s possible I sound defensive. “I just… uh, I need to get home.”
He lifts his hands. “Look, I’m not gonna rape you or whatever it is you’re worried about. I just thought you wanted to see Gugu, and he’d probably like to say hello to you, too. But if that’s not something you want to do, hey, fine with me.”
He might as well have said, I double-dare you.
I hesitate, but only for a moment. Because I don’t want this guy to think he has any power over me.
“Okay,” I say. “I just can’t take too long. It’s getting late, and my dog needs a walk.”
I figure we’re only walking over to the east house. There’s a limited amount of trouble I can get into between here and there, right? I’ll just keep him ahead of me, and watch my back.
We walk past the strange stone, through a little garden with more weird-looking rocks and water fountains. Not as many guests over here, no serving girls in qipaos. Not a lot of light.
Stay frosty, I tell myself. It’s not paranoia when they’re really out to get you, and given my experiences of the recent past, I’m probably not paranoid enough.
“So… movies?” I ask.
“What?”
“Movies. You said you work in Hollywood. And Gugu’s into the movie thing, right?”
Marsh nods. “Yeah. We’re putting a deal together. Historical. Easiest thing to do as a coproduction. That and rom-coms. Otherwise you run into all kinds of bullshit politics. No horror, that’s supernatural, and we can’t have superstitions in a modern socialist society. You wanna do a caper film? Well, don’t suggest that crime’s a real problem or that the authorities don’t have a handle on it. You’re better off setting something in the bad old days, before the revolution. Then you can do just about anything you want.”
His face is in shadow, and I can’t see his expression. But it’s the first time he’s talked to me like a normal person and not some supercreep with a chip on his shoulder.
I’m thinking, Okay, maybe he’s not a bad guy, and I can tell Sidney that and be done with this whole mission. Let him and Gugu spend Gugu’s money and make their own money. What’s it going to hurt?
As we approach the entrance, I notice there’s a muscle guy standing there. Yeah, no girls in qipaos. My nerves start pinging again.
I do a kind of stutter step without meaning to. Marsh notices. “Something wrong?”
“No, just got a text.” I reach into my little leather bag and grab my phone, unlocking the screen so it’s lit up like maybe someone texted me. Bring up John’s number. Okay, so he’s in my Favorites. It’s in case of an emergency.
I don’t call him, I don’t text him, I just have his number ready.
Marsh walks past the muscle without a look or a nod.
I hesitate. Think, Okay, if you back out now and this really is just a “Let’s go say hi to Gugu,” you’re going to look like an idiot.
If that’s not what this is…
Hand on my iPhone, I follow Marsh.
This wing has the look of an upscale hotel. Anonymous furniture and dimmed key lights. Quiet. Maybe it’s where Tiantian stashes his guests. We walk through a sitting room with heavy black furniture. No one’s here.
“Look-” I say. Marsh turns and puts a finger to his lips. He heads down a hall at the back, gesturing for me to follow.
“Fuck,” I mutter. Here I am again, doing something that I’m pretty sure is a bad idea. Why do I keep doing this shit?
I follow him anyhow.
We walk down the darkened hallway, past a couple of closed doors. Sconces cast soft fans of light on the walls.
The door at the end of the hall is cracked open. We get closer, and I hear a low moan.
Either someone’s hurt or someone’s having fun.
I’m kind of hoping someone’s hurt. Because I am not in the mood for fun with Gugu.
Marsh pushes the door open a little wider. Peeks inside. Draws his head back and turns to me, his eyes squeezed shut, his expression a grimace. He takes a couple steps back to clear the way and gestures at the door.
I take a step forward. I don’t want to look, but I do. It’s this thing where I have to know, no matter how bad it is.
I’m aware of Marsh standing just behind me, this solid presence radiating heat, and I think that if this is some kind of trap, I need to be ready. Stomp on his foot. Grab his balls and twist.
I take a look inside.
My eyes are already adjusted to the dim light, so I can see that there’s a big bed against the wall to the left. A woman sitting on the bed, propped up against the headboard. She’s a little heavy. She’s topless, or maybe naked. Who knows? I don’t get that far. Because there’s Gugu sprawled across her lap, and he’s sucking on her tit. Which is, you know, whatever. Except that her tits are swollen with milk. I see this when Gugu lets go for a moment and milk dribbles down his chin.
The woman stirs, turns her head toward the door. Stares at me for a moment. She’s not that young. Her face seems hard. Then she looks away, back at Gugu, who’s too out of it to notice. I see her hand, going up and down.
Okay, that’s as much as I need to see.
I turn, and there’s Marsh standing in front of me, practically convulsing in silent laughter.
Marsh’s gaze drops down to my own rack. Lingers there.
“Got milk?” he whispers.
I stare at him. “Fucking hilarious,” I mutter, and I walk away.
“Come on, can’t you take a joke?”
I stop in my tracks. We’re in the sitting room of the east house, and I’m heading for the door.
“What kind of friend of his are you anyway?” I spit out. “Showing me that?”
Marsh raises his hands. “Hey, I didn’t know he was gonna be doing… that.”
“Bullshit,” I snap.
“Okay, I thought maybe he was with a girl, not with some… wet nurse from Anhui.” He snickers. “It’s a trending thing, I hear. Supposed to be good for you. The milk, I mean. All the rage in Shenzhen.”