Family Business by S. J. Rozan

Author:S. J. Rozan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pegasus Books
Published: 2021-12-07T00:00:00+00:00

24

Morning dawned bright and early, and so did I. Bill rolled over and sighed.

“Quiet,” I said. “Stay asleep, see if I care. I’ll call you later.”

He opened one eye. “You want me to come along?”

“When you’re so adorable lounging here in bed? Actually, I think Mr. Loo would be more on guard with you there than with just me and Mel.”

“You’re going to play the we’re-just-girls card, aren’t you?”

“We sure are. See you later.”

I raced home, showered, and dressed in respectable black slacks, a pearl gray sweater, and a black wool jacket. I’d considered a red blouse—a power combination, and red’s a lucky color for Chinese people—but you can’t power dress and play I’m-just-a-girl at the same time. I let my bi on its delicate gold chain hang outside the sweater, pulled on ankle books with small heels, took a shoulder bag instead of a backpack, and headed out to Fay Da to meet Mel.

She’d beaten me there and managed to score a table, not the easiest thing to do at what, for my money, is Chinatown’s best bakery. Plus it was the table in the window.

“Hi,” I said. “Let me just get breakfast.” At the counter I picked up a sesame ball and a cup of milk tea. I slid into the chair opposite her. She wore a navy pantsuit with a pale blue blouse, and she was a couple of bites into a taro mini—vanilla sponge cake wrapped around sweetened taro paste.

“I love these things,” she said. “Mom used to bring us here to pick up treats for Uncle Meng. I thought it was funny because he lived around the corner. Why didn’t we bring him cookies from the bakery in Scarsdale, that he couldn’t get every day? She said no, he liked Chinese sweets, and we couldn’t go empty-handed. To this day I can’t visit anyone without a bakery box.” She lifted a Fay Da box from the chair beside her. “For Mr. Loo.”

I grinned and sipped my tea. “In my family it’s oranges. Or pomelos, or tangerines. You don’t have citrus, you don’t go.”

She smiled as she drank her coffee. “Tell me about your family. I realize I hardly know you.”

“And yet we’ve shared so much. Dead bodies, gangsters, tattooed ladies…”

“All the more reason.”

“Okay.” I took a bite of my sesame ball, leaning over the plate to avoid getting errant seeds on my sweater. “I was born here in Chinatown, youngest of five and the only girl.” I gave her a quick Chin family history: immigrant parents, Ma’s work as a seamstress, Ba’s restaurant, his death. My brothers and their families. My career, my partnership with Bill.

“He seems like a great guy,” she said.

“He is, a real prize. Don’t ever let on I said that.”

“My lips are sealed. But isn’t your mother after you to get married and have children?”

“To Bill? It’s taken her years to stop chasing him with a broom every time he comes near me. Besides”—I drank some tea—“she already has four grandchildren, two of Ted’s and two of Elliott’s.

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