We sat in a private room in The Woodpeckers. Not much had changed since I was the barmaid. Although presently, it had become a neutral ground for business. At a rectangular table, Wesley and I were on one side, while Lindley and Charlie were on the other. The fair-haired boy's presence wouldn't have been needed if his superior didn't put him up as an offering without asking for his permission.
Something must've gone beyond Lindley's control, and he was using the boy to save himself.
"You asked me to find the caller," Lindley smacked his lips, pipe in hand. "Curiously enough, he got to me first."
"Why is he here?" I ignored Lindley's claim and pointed at Charlie. I needed to hear the obvious answer.
"He's a reliable young man." Lindley squinted. "Thought you'd like him."
Charlie's eyes were blank. He wasn't clueless, yet unquestionably, he hadn't fully comprehended what he had agreed to.
"What were you told?" Wesley asked impatiently. It was almost as if he wasn't interested in any spectacle, as if he had somewhere to be.
"He said he would like to meet you." Lindley pointed the bowl of his pipe at me. "He said he wants to show you something."
"Do I know him?" I raised my eyebrows.
"That's not of my concern. I'm just the messenger." Lindley threw his hands. "Tomorrow at six in the evening, Cecil hotel on Main. They'll know who you are there to see."
"What do you get out of this?" I tapped on the table slowly. "I advise you not to get into trouble."
"I'm completely neutral." He leaned forward. "Do you think I'd be stupid enough to mess around with your kind of people?"
My tapping stopped as I locked eyes with him.
The anxious and frightened barman let himself in after a short, hurried knock. Before I could tell him that this was an inappropriate time, he said:
"Mrs. Murphy, sorry to interrupt, but Mrs. Murphy-Philips is on the line. She said she must speak with you urgently."
I stood up and followed the barman to the phone.
"Yes?"
"You must come to Victoria's house at once," Lizzie ordered hurriedly. "Now."
"What for?"
"Emma tried to run away," Lizzie whimpered, "and Victoria shot her."
"What?"
"You heard me. Thomas made Emma stay with Victoria to keep an eye on her. She planned to elope with the Chang boy, got to the gate, and was almost out. Victoria saw and ran after her. She shot them both."
"And?"
"The Chang boy's dead. Emma… well, she doesn't seem to be in critical condition anymore. But do come quick."
"Sure."
"Wait…never mind."
"All right."
Expressionlessly, I returned to the private room unperturbed in the hope of shunning away any prying ears and eyes.
"There's an urgent family matter that requires my immediate attention," I said flatly. "Wesley and I are leaving. Charlie, you'll come see me at nine tonight. Lindley will tell you where to go."
The young man was surprised and understandably uncomfortable. He wanted to speak, but with a nudge from the man who brought him here, he simply nodded sheepishly while twisting his thumbs.
-----
Emma was laid face-down on the cold, marble kitchen island like it was a ready-made slab for her. It was prettier than the one I was laid on yesterday. Blood soaked through the cotton fabric of her white sun dress, and the smell of metal and the faint scent of death had proliferated the room. She was guilty – guilty of lusting for freedom and love. Lust was a cardinal sin, and the penalty was death, sentenced by a self-proclaimed righteous woman.
She was shot in the back through her right shoulder. She'd live.
Lizzie knelt on the floor, holding her sister's hand, and crying silently. Victoria leaned against the wall, far from the center of the chaos, with her arms crossed. She didn't seem to be bothered in the slightest. Laurie, however, sat on the edge of a low step stool and buried his face in his hands. This was the first time I heard anyone in this family say a prayer.
Thomas was smoking by the door. When I walked in, he stopped me before I could fully cross the threshold.
"The Changs took the boy's body back," he said, "we've got a problem."
"What do you want to do?" I kept my voice low.
"You, Lawrence, and I are going to the Chinese to get it sorted," he puffed the cigarette, "before they can come to us."
"I'm not going," I protested. "You know I won't."
"Me neither." Laurie sounded distraught. "I'm staying with Emma until I know she's fine."
"I'm not asking you," Thomas said broodingly. He was more annoyed than agitated. "You're coming because you are my wife, and I told you so. And you're coming because your wife just killed the heir to the Chang clan. Now, there's going to be a war if we don't act fast."
I was referred to as his wife only on occasions he found the title suitable.
"Victoria can go there herself." Laurie's face was still buried in his hands. He held back a sob. "I can't leave Emma until I know she'll live."
Thomas inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly.
"You'll come with," eventually, Thomas squeezed Laurie's shoulder and gave him a pat on the back.
Lizzie let out a cry before Laurie could object further:
"Is that the only thing you're worrying about? For the love of God, get out. Your sister is on the verge of death, and the business is all you care about."
She wasn't dying. The bullet was removed. Though the physical trauma and mental suffering might force her to rest for a while, she'd live on.
Lizzie's irrationality wasn't to be blamed. It was only human. Though her sense of being human was different from mine. It was humane not to know the name of the man I was about to shoot at point blank. Being human stemmed from normality. Normality was defined individually. A preference, I'd say, like cheesecake or chocolate mousse.
I would like to have cheesecake tonight.
-----
The place where it all started had changed. Not where I started. It was where it began. How long had it been? I'd say nine, almost ten years, yet it was nothing like I remembered. The Red Lantern House no longer existed. Gone with it were all the memories, good or bad. I heard them built a newer, more spacious residence for the girls. Everything had aged, slowly sinking and decaying. I, too, had aged.
I was youthful when I resided there. Not only naïve and innocent but also young. In my budding years – the years I spent in the Red Lantern House – I was plump-faced, cheeks rosy with rogue, lashes darkened with kohl. Not much make-up, for I wanted to show my true, unaltered self to the world and feared nothing. I desperately wanted to be seen, recognized, and praised by the men I should've never gone near.
Mrs. Bedford would have been disappointed if she was alive. Although if she were alive, I wouldn't have ended up there in the first place.
The years had passed, and I now hid behind a delicately painted disguise to have a sense of false security that no one would know who I was or what I was.
Fame wasn't fame when it came from the wrong reason. In my case, I was the chink whore who struck luck and became Thomas Murphy's wife.
That was what I was told.
I would like to be recognized as something else. Anything. A tree, a plant, or a broken vase.
The Changs were already waiting for us with their guns drawn. White flowers were hung for the occasion of a tragic death, a murder, and the loss of a beloved member of their closed community. They stared at us vindictively as if they were measuring up the number of bullets they would have to waste if they were to shoot at us. Not many if they asked me, that was if they could aim well enough.
Wesley tagged along reluctantly. Thomas had asked him to. Laurie guiltily dawdled behind us and refused to lift his head, no matter how many times his brother demanded him to. I wanted to tell him that everything would be all right, but then that would be acting out of line.
They searched, stripped us off of our weapons, and herded us into the main hall like farm animals ready to be slaughtered. The Chang boy's body was placed on a large wooden chest in the middle of the hall. His clothes were changed, and fresh white flowers surrounded him.
"One of yours killed my son," said the dead boy's father, sitting on his throne, looking down at us. "A life for a life."
"We are here to offer peace," Thomas said.
"Offering up an old whore and that Joseon won't cut it," he said as if he was disgusted.
I recognized that term. And I knew it was supposed to be derogatory, though nothing was innately derogatory about that word. It wasn't hard to tell that he wanted to provoke Wesley, who dedicated eight years to the Chang clan. He made his way up the ladder all right, but he couldn't reach the top like he deserved. There was a simple fact that he couldn't change no matter how hard he worked and how native his Mandarin had become. It was the fact that he wasn't Chinese. He was born in the Korean Empire and was a Joseon to the Chinese.
The rumor was true.
Glancing at Wesley, I saw no emotion on his face. I was reminded of the old Wesley, the Wesley who ran the Red Lantern House, stoned-faced and displayed only apathy, while no words or insults seemed to bother him the slightest.
"She's not being offered," Thomas didn't sound bothered. "Neither is he. Seeing familiar faces may ease the tension, for old times' sake. We are here because my brother would like to apologize on his wife's behalf. Lawrence?"
"My apologies," Laurie slurred.
"Speak up!" With a fake smile, Thomas slapped Laurie on his back while maintaining eye contact with the old Chang. "Mr. Chang can't hear you."
"Sorry," Laurie raised his voice faintly, "I couldn't stop Vic – my wife."
"A sorry won't do. Your woman killed my son. It's only fair if I kill yours."
Laurie slowly looked up in confusion.
"One of your brothers would do," the old Chang pointed at Thomas.
Laurie's confusion turned into terror.
"We are here to parley," Thomas cleared his throat and interfered. "How about we renegotiate the terms for your new business endeavor?"
The man on the throne sneered: "No. The problem with your kind is that you only see business, not family. Family comes first in this house. Your brother's wife killed my son, and I'll take a child from your family. But I'm a reasonable man. We can still do business if you don't complicate things."
Laurie was stunned. I heard Wesley scoff quietly. Thomas' face was blank. I lit up a cigarette. Without saying a word, Thomas turned around and walked out. My stare stayed on the old Chang's weathered face for a few seconds before I followed my husband.
"We shall wait and see," Thomas said dryly. I lit up a cigarette and handed it to him.