“Seriously?” Susan rolled her eyes. “Oh, no.”
People in New York often react that way to meeting actors, so I ignored it. “He said there’s a female Caucasian character, about my age, in the story. I guess the actress who originally had the role recently broke her leg?” I hoped I was right in thinking that had happened before Benny died, rather than after.
“Believe me, Esther, you don’t want any part of my brother’s piece-of-crap film.”
“All the same,” I said, “I’d like to talk to him and see—”
“Forget it. If you’re serious about having an acting career—”
“I have an acting career,” I said defensively.
“—then working on this film would be a complete waste of your time.”
Some distance behind her, I could see John now. He had returned from evicting Benny’s mistress and was mingling with the Yees. He checked on Mrs. Yee, who grimaced a little as they spoke but didn’t seem to need emergency medical care. Then he zeroed in on Ted, who was still sitting apart from the others and looking like he wished he was somewhere else.
Susan continued, “Anyhow, now that Uncle Benny’s dead, there won’t be a film. Benny was Ted’s only backer. And my cousins didn’t approve of the investment, so my aunt won’t continue throwing good money after bad.”
“Because her kids will tell her not to?”
“That’s right.”
I tried to picture what it would be like to have a mother who did what I told her, but my imagination just wouldn’t stretch that far.
“Esther,” said Max, “I think John is trying to get our attention.”
“You know John Chen?” Susan asked in surprise, looking over her shoulder at him.
“We have a friend in common with him,” I said.
“Is that how you met Uncle Benny?” she asked. “Through John?”
“In a manner of speaking,” I said. “You’re right, Max. John’s waving at us. Let’s go see what he wants. Please excuse us, Susan.”
“And please accept our heartfelt condolences on your bereavement, Miss Yee,” Max added. “Come, Nelli.”
8
Face
Social credit; crucial to reputation and status, for oneself and one’s family.
When Max and I reached John’s side, I smiled gratefully at him, since he obviously intended to introduce us to Ted. I was even more pleased to discover that John had already broken the ice for me.
“So John says you’re, like, an actress?” said Ted. “And you’re interested in reading for my film?”
“That’s right.” I nodded eagerly.
“So, like, have you done any acting?”
I gave him a verbal rundown of my résumé, which included some TV roles—the best of which had been on The Dirty Thirty—as well as a long list of stage credits, including playing one of the two female leads in the Off-Broadway production of The Vampyre in autumn.
“Whoa, that’s awesome,” said Ted. “You’re, like, a real actress.”
“That’s exactly what I’m like.” Fudging a little, I added, “And I gather you need to cast someone quickly so you can continue production.”
“Well, um . . .”
First I’d get him to offer me the part. Then I’d get Thack to make sure I got paid as much as this production could afford. It was obviously non-union, so this would be a matter of finesse and negotiation.
“I’m free tomorrow,” I said to Ted. “When can we meet?”
“We’re burying my uncle tomorrow.”
Feeling gauche, I said, “Oh, of course. I’m sorry. Maybe a day or two after th—”
“No, no, tomorrow’s cool,” he said absently. “I’m just wondering how long this funeral thing will take.”
John was right; Ted would apparently miss Benny’s money more than he’d miss Benny.
“Mom?” Ted called. “Hey, Mom!”
“Ted, this is a wake,” his mother admonished as she approached us. “We should keep our voices down.”
“Oh, come on, Mom. Aunt Grace and that hooker from Benny’s office just went at it right in front of the coffin like—”
“Ted, please,” said his mother with a long-suffering expression. “Your aunt or your cousins will hear you.”
“By the way, Esther,” said Ted, “the way you jumped in there, walloped Aunt Grace, and threw that girl on the coffin—it was totally awesome!”
“I didn’t wallop your aunt, I—”
“How do you do? I am Lily Yee, Ted’s mother,” the older woman interrupted with a pleasant smile. She spoke English precisely, with a delicate Chinese accent. “I’m pleased to meet you.”
I introduced myself, then said, “And this is my friend, Dr. Maximillian Zadok.”
“How do you do, sir?”
Rather than respond, Max stared mutely at Lily Yee, looking dumbstruck. His blue eyes were wide, his mouth hung open slightly, and he seemed unaware that I had just introduced the two of them.
“Max?” I prodded.
“Hmm? Oh!” He blinked. “Pardon me, madam. I am very pleased to make your acquaintance. I, uh . . . I . . .”
He went back to staring at her. And I looked at both of them, wondering at Max’s reaction.
Yes, Lily was a beautiful woman, elegantly dressed, with a gracious manner. I assumed she was at least in her mid-forties, since her daughter looked mid-twenties; and Lily might well be in her fifties, for all I knew. Good bone structure, good skin, and good grooming made her age hard to guess. She wore her black hair in a heavy bun at the nape of her neck, which complimented her traditional dress. Her style was very different from that of her modern American son and daughter, and it suited her well.
Yet there was nothing about her to explain Max’s thunderstruck reaction to meeting her. His great age certainly didn’t prevent him from noticing—and sometimes reacting to—pretty women. But I’d never before seen a beautiful face rob him of the power of speech.
So I looked at both of them, seeking some clue to Max’s odd behavior; but I just couldn’t see anything. Lily seemed a little perplexed by his manner, but not disconcerted, and her smiling courtesy remained unruffled.
“So, Mom,” said Ted, oblivious to the way Max was staring at his mother, “what time will we be done with the funeral tomorrow? I want to meet Esther afterward.”
“Oh, really? How nice!” Lily seemed to think he meant we were going on a date. Given her daughter’s reaction to my being an actress, I decided not to correct her. “You can certainly meet in the evening. Or late afternoon.”
Max stirred himself enough to say, “Er, what is . . .”
We all looked at him.
Apparently unaware that he was interrupting, or even that there was anyone else in the room other than Lily Yee, he said to her, “May one ask your given name?”
“You wish to know my Chinese name?” She smiled. “Of course. It is Xiaoling.”
“Xiaoling,” Max repeated. “How lovely.”
“My late husband called me that,” she added, gracefully imparting the information that she was a widow. “But to almost everyone else, ever since I came to America when I was young, I am Lily.”
“Also a lovely name,” Max said. “Very fitting.”
She smiled again.
“So listen, Esther,” said Ted. “Like, here’s the thing . . .”
“Yes?” I turned to give him my full attention while Max and Lily continued chatting quietly.
“I think it’s cool that you want to read for my film, but you’re a different type than Mary.”
“I’m versatile,” I assured him.
“You heard her résumé,” John said to Ted. “That’s some range. She’d be great in Mary’s part.”