Chapter 17: Dangerous Emotions
The men assembled solemnly, waiting for my command. Clarence dressed neatly like he was to attend dinner, not a fight. I glanced over him and kept my mouth shut.
"Where's Wesley?" I asked.
"I sent him for another errand," Thomas said. "You'll have to do without him. It won't be an issue, will it?"
"No," I said.
I decided to assume he was protecting Wesley. His soon-to-be brother-in-law shouldn't chance with lady luck. I already knew he was valuable to Thomas, and now I realized that he had been more dependable and trusted than me.
I had no complaints. Though I did want to see that man, just in case I could never see him again.
-----
Chaos was the thoughts flowing rapidly through my mind as I waited on the dock with Clarence next to me. The water was calm, and the wind was gentle—a deadly façade. I thought of Wesley and how he'd act if I died. He'd be composed and calm in front of others and stay quiet, not letting any dangerous emotion show in his eyes. He would mourn, albeit only for a second, for it'd be reasonably risky. Then I thought of Clarence, who, should he not choose the path in this family, could have a different future ahead. He wasn't my responsibility, yet I felt responsible for him. The young man was visibly nervous and fidgeting with his gun. I wanted to tell him everything would be all right, and he needn't worry, but that'd be a lie.
I refused to think about how Laurie would react if I were to die today.
A small boat appeared. An older man was rowing in the back. His withered wife and teenage daughter sat at the front. I recognized him. It was Mr. Wang, the same Mr. Wang who used to run the Red Lantern House under Wesley. And I used to hate him. Now came to think of it, I remembered him as being more-or-less kind – as kind as a pimp could be to his prostitutes – before that incident.
Nevertheless, he kept me there under Wesley's discretion and gave me a roof over my head. Back then, it was all I could've asked for. Indeed, over the years, I had grown greedy and wanted more things I didn't deserve.
It didn't take long for Mr. Wang to recognize me and the situation he found himself in. He docked, secured his boat, and waited.
"I think you know what I'm here for," I said. "It'll be best for both of us if you leave the boat to me."
My men drew their pistols. Clarence hurried to follow suit.
"Look at you," he scoffed. "A whore will always be a whore."
He spat at me.
The men pointed their pistols at him and his family.
"Let's not make it difficult," I said. "You have a wife and a daughter."
"You're a disgrace," he ignored my warning. "I'm ashamed to know your name. How does it feel like to not be accepted by your kind because you're raised wrong and not be accepted by others because you look different? It must be hard, isn't it? You deserve it."
I had heard much worse; I wasn't bothered by his mockery, for he was speaking the truth.
He waved his arms. It was a signal. Gunshots were coming from behind, and the men scrambled to fire back. I grabbed Clarence by the collar, who was in a state of stupor from shock and pushed him into the boat.
"Stay down," I ordered. I shot my former acquaintance between his eyebrows. He fell backward and made a splash when his body hit the water.
"This is for Sue," I murmured.
Men shouted. Men fell. I could no longer see men. They had become the plastic soldier figurines that Harper and Flynn slingshot at for fun. I screamed. I shot. I dodged. Everything happened ridiculously fast, and I lost track of time.
Then it got silent. My ears were still ringing. A dark-haired man walked up and hugged me tightly for a brief second.
He was familiar. As my haze returned to focus, I recognized him.
It was Wesley Lee.
"Why the fuck are you here?" I yelled in distress. Partly because of the ringing in my ears, but primarily due to the sudden realization that he had put himself in danger for me. "I thought you were sent for some other errand."
"This is the other errand," he said calmly. "Thomas asked me to take some men, just in case of trouble. He said he didn't want to lose his wife over this."
"You're lying," I claimed.
"Well," he didn't argue, "would you rather me tell you the truth?"
I turned around and pulled Clarence up so he could stand on his feet. The wife and the daughter were shivering, begging me to spare their lives in the language I could understand but not speak.
"Finish them," I ordered.
"No," Clarence bawled, "no. Can't you show them some mercy? They can't possibly have anything to do with this."
"To show mercy is to finish them," I insisted.
Two shots. Two splashes.
"Welcome aboard," I patted his shoulder and waved at the men.
The boat was on fire.
I lived.
-----
"Should I regret it?" I frowned. "For shooting the wife and the daughter in front of Clarence."
"Is he taking it fine?"
"He told Thomas I'm a horrible woman," I crossed my arms, "and I shouldn't have taken innocent lives."
"What did Thomas say?"
"Thomas said he only got what he asked for," I said, "and I agree. I told him he shouldn't be near the out-takes if he can't handle things like this."
Wesley nodded. Standing at the end of the long hall in the Hills, a spare moment between us was rare. Without being eavesdropped on, I wasn't sure how to speak to him about the more critical matter.
"What are you going to do with Ferguson?" He asked quietly. I could tell he was equally reluctant to ask, yet either his curiosity or worry – or both – had gotten to him.
"He knows Victoria," I said dryly, observing the minor changes in his expression. "And I guess that's not news to you."
Wesley squinted and asked for a cigarette. I handed him one. Lighting up his newly established old habit, he said: "You've never told me how you met him."
-----
I met Neil on a mid-summer day in 1925. I was eighteen and still plump. A regular took me to Santa Monica pier. He put me in a fancily beaded flapper dress that contrasted drastically with my worn-out heels. He said he'd like to see me as a proper woman, like those who danced to jazz all night, sat on their fortunes, and did nothing for a living.
My hands were on the pier railings, and a cigarette was hanging from my mouth. I leaned over to see the water beneath me. It made me dizzy, and I quickly turned around to watch the rollercoaster climbing up and rushing down the peak instead. The screams out of excitement and terror made me giggle. Then from the corner of my eye, I saw him, the fair-haired man sitting on a bench, white shirt sleeves rolled up and sketching on a notepad.
Improper and bold as I was, at eighteen, I asked my companion to buy me ice cream. The moment he stepped away was when I approached him.
"What are you drawing?" I asked.
"Nothing really," he said shyly.
"Can you draw me?" I sat next to him uninvited. He was an older man. I should've known better and been cautious around an older man. But I didn't care. He was drawing the ocean and the birds. In his sketch, there was no one.
"I'm afraid I'm not skillful enough," he said with a nervous smile on his thin lips.
He was polite, too polite. He didn't tell me to go away or show a sign of disgust from smelling the overpowering scent of the cheap powder I dusted myself with. I thought of asking his name, then shrugged off that absurd idea.
My company returned. I threw the cigarette on the ground and stomped on it before standing up and greeting him. I had earned that damn ice cream. As I licked the rare treat while looking directly at him, the man who brought me there said:
"Look at her, such a curious thing, and not bad looking either. Today she's mine. You'll have to wait for your turn."
The man on the bench let out an awkward chuckle.
When I was told to leave, I did. As I was walking away, I stopped in my tracks. Turning back, I met his eyes. I ran to him. Before he could react, I was already there, pressing my cold lips against his.
"Red Lantern House," I whispered before I made my run. Shamelessly and joyfully thinking, he would taste tobacco and sweet vanilla when he licked his lips.
-----
I didn't expect him to show up, but he did. Mr. Wang left him at my door, and he stood there clueless.
"Good evening," he said nervously.
"Good evening," I said, gesturing him to sit beside me on the bed.
He sat in a chair instead.
"My name is Neil," he said clumsily, "I'm here because I wanted to see you and not for the work you do here."
"How proper," I couldn't help but tease him a little.
"Mr. Wang wouldn't let me in just to talk to you, so I had to be here as a customer," he said without looking directly at me. Instead, he fixed his sight on a nearby vase.
"Are you repulsed? I mean, by me and what I do for a living."
"No," he shook his head. Slowly, he glanced over and met me in the eyes, "I wonder what led a girl like you to end in a place like this?"
He was different. At least he was acting differently than the other men. Mrs. Bedford said men would act and lie to get what they wanted. She said she'd protect me until I was old enough. She said she'd be there for me, and I wouldn't be left alone in this world again.
She died of pneumonia a week before my fourteenth birthday.
He could be simply looking for fun and excitement. At twenty-seven, he probably had a wife at home waiting for him at the dinner table, with warm food ready to be served.
I never became that wife.
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