CHAPTER 5
M y phone rings for the fourth time from where I threw it in the pile of pillows on my bed but I’m mid-teeth brushing and can’t answer. Or maybe I just don’t want to. It’s Nick again, no doubt. He’s not used to being ignored, but I don’t want to hear his excuses. His drinking has become a bigger problem than he realizes. And the way he ran away when police cars pulled up across the street…?
Whatever happened with him tonight scratches through my mind. He’d obviously been drinking before he ever came to the restaurant. It was practically seeping out of his pores, and I hate the bitter taste it left. Hate how possessive he was. I hate the way he kissed me like he was punishing me. That I kissed him back, even if it was to distract him from Marcus. But mostly, I hate that Marcus saw the whole thing.
Hot, coiling embarrassment and heavy shame fill my room until it’s so tight around me, it squeezes me out the window and onto my fire escape. I take a deep, shaky breath, the crisp air sharp against my lungs as I grip the railing. But when I look down on the street, I hold the breath I just hauled into my lungs because Marcus is still outside with Guo Mama.
I step backward, my palm sliding along the windowsill as I duck to crawl back inside, but I bump Buddha and he clatters to the metal landing.
Bending to pick him up, I stare at the black spot on his belly where I’ve rubbed off the gold paint with my wishing, but my eyes are pulled toward Marcus and my heart leaps up my throat like it’s the one who’s been caught peeking. Marcus stares up at me and Guo Mama cackles before shuffling into her shop.
He holds the straps of his backpack while he walks toward my fire escape two stories below, then smiles and waves once as his eyes say, “Hey.”
I straighten, bite my lip, and trap Buddha in my balled fist. “ Hi.”
He squints, holding my gaze. “ You okay?”
I nod and shrug. “Fine.”
He looks around before crossing the alley and I circle my fingers around my neck. It’s so much easier writing to him. Saying things with my mouth or my eyes and watching him react in real life is emotional chaos, but I stand in the middle of it as he smiles up at me, head thrown back, black words covering his arm like a sloppy sleeve tattoo.
“That thing that happened earlier…” he calls.
I grip the railing tighter. “What thing?”
“With that guy.” He makes a V with each hand and brings them close together, opening and closing them like two kissing alligators. “I think it was meant to be affection, maybe?” He shoves his hands in his hoodie pockets. “But not sure. Don’t see that every day.”
His voice rumbles up to me, onto the landing, vibrates through me, and digs up embarrassment and shame. But he doesn’t know me. What if Nick kisses me like that every day? What if I like it? I tighten my fists. Except I don’t. Anybody would have noticed that.
“It isn’t every day someone watches, either.” The words wobble out of me and his teeth blare in the dark as he smiles.
“You were sorta busy, so you probably didn’t notice, but I was kinda trapped behind a dumpster watching Face Eater gnaw off your lips.”
“I didn’t ask you to stay.”
“Well, your eyes did, so maybe you should have a little chat with them about saying what they really mean. All I know is they didn’t like whatever was happening as much as I didn’t.” He grips his backpack straps. “But wait—hold up! Just thought of something.” His eyes widen. “If our eyes speak the same language, does that mean we’re eye-lingual?” He grins up at me. “Like bilingual, but you know—eyes.”
I press my lips together and curl my toes against a smile but when it slips out, I send it into the sky before looking down at him again. “I guess so.”
Marcus rolls his neck, rubbing the back of it as he looks up. “It’s kinda uneventful down here now. And my neck’s killing me. Care if I come up?” When I don’t answer, he steps to the ladder and pulls himself up the rungs and over the railing, dropping to the landing.
His eyes are glossy in the lamp light pooling around my window, starting a fire in my stomach that spreads up into my cheeks. His skin glows as he leans back against the railing and stretches his arms along it on either side of him. He’s easily twice my size. If he steps closer, he’ll pull me into his gravity and—
“So, you usually don’t work Tuesdays?” He tilts his head, his long fingers wrapped around the railing.
I blink out of my thoughts and squeeze Buddha in my fist. “I covered for a friend. I’m in the kitchen on Tuesdays.”
“Maybe I should switch nights. ”
I smile as the air between us settles and calms but shake my head. “You should probably stick with Tuesdays.”
“Since you have a boyfriend but didn’t wanna tell me because my notes are so poetic?”
My eyes snap to his and I inhale, shaking my head. “He’s not…I don’t…”
His left eyebrow arches. “Do I need to ask Buddha who Face Eater is?” He watches me pass the statue between my hands, nervous energy exiting my body through my fingers. “He’ll tell me everything you forgot to mention in your notes. Or I could just ask Guo. She said, and I quote: ‘Ugly Chao is the worst. As a dude and a kisser.’ From what I saw, I’d have to agree. No offense, but…” He shakes his head.
“It’s amazing how much you sounded like Guo Mama. You two must have had a long conversation about me.” I swallow hot, itchy shame and look down at Guo Mama’s shop where she’s scrubbing her front window. Scrubbing the same spot, over and over. Because she’s watching us out of the corner of her eye. “Should’ve known she’s involved in this.”
“This…?” He raises his eyebrows.
“You. Being here.” I wave one hand between us, the other gripping Buddha as I take a deep breath. “She bribed you, didn’t she?”
He grips his backpack straps and leans back against the railing, crossing his ankles. “To do what?”
“I don’t know. Talk to me? Write notes?” I bite my lip and hold my breath, waiting.
He looks at the sky, then back to me. “Uh, no, thank you very much. Did this all on my own. I’m offended you didn’t consider that I had to gather all my available guts just to talk to you two weeks ago.”
My heart stutters in surprise, but I crush Buddha in my fist and roll my eyes so I won’t squeeze them shut and squeal. “She bribed you to talk to me because she doesn’t like Nick. ”
He frowns and scratches his temple. “Okay, so…first, why would she think me talking to you would make a difference, and second, I’m guessing “Nick” is Face Eater?”
I stare at him.
“He almost ate your face after yelling at it. So…Face Eater. Didn’t say it was a creative nickname, but he definitely earned it. Am I wrong?”
Shame pushes up my neck in a hot rush and I talk to the landing. “He wasn’t eating my face.”
“All about perspective, Mei.” He stops, raising his eyebrows. “Wait—can I call you Mei?”
“Umm…sure?”
“I mean, you know, since we’re the only people who happen to talk with our eyes, we should be on a nickname basis.” He smiles and when he shoves his fingers through his messy hair, nicknames for him flood my mind. All of them will stay safely inside my head.
Heat prickles my cheeks and I meet his eyes across the landing. Silence ripples between us before Marcus straightens and clears his throat. “So, back to that whole bribe thing and why Guo would care if I talk to you and—”
Mama calls from inside and I tense, my eyes darting to my window then back to him. “You have to go,” I whisper, dive-crawling back into my room. I set Buddha on the windowsill and reach to pull the window down but Marcus ducks through the opening, his face inches from mine.
“When can I see you again? Besides at the restaurant.”
He has a few, faint freckles on the bridge of his nose. His dark eyebrows are perfectly arched over blue, blue eyes, the left brow interrupted by a tiny scar slashed through its middle. I grip the window for dear life. “Notes are probably best.” I’m not giving them up yet. His notes exploded into twenty-four bright spots in the last two weeks.
“Then I’m taking Buddha with me.” He snatches the statue, still looking at me, still washing away the darkness with waves of sky blue. “He’ll tell me everything you won’t.”
“He doesn’t talk to strangers,” I whisper.
“Please.” Marcus rolls his eyes. “Buddha speaks to all peace-loving individuals. Plus, we’re neighbors. If you lean over your fire escape far enough…” He throws his thumb in the direction of his building. “You can almost see my window. So…not strangers.”
Mama calls again and I grip the window like it will help me win the tug of war between Marcus and her. “I have to go,” I rush, pulling the window down a little.
“Wait!” He grabs it. “Buddha wants to tell me something.” He holds him to his ear and pretends to listen. His eyes slide to my lips then he shakes his head and talks to Buddha again. “Sorry, man, what’d you say? I was distracted.” He glances at me and grins, then nods, Buddha still at his ear. “Yeah, I totally agree. I don’t get it either, and I’ll tell her, but you’re crazy for thinking she’ll listen to me.” He rolls his eyes and drops Buddha in his jacket pocket, sighing loudly. “So…he says you should stop making out with Face Eater if he’s not your boyfriend. And if he is your boyfriend, you should break up with him.”
I narrow my eyes and he holds up his hands. “Just the messenger.” Grabbing the ladder handles, he backs down it, disappearing into the alley.
I close my eyes. My heart’s still beating. I’m awake. That really happened. Marcus Miller was here and wants to see me again. Even after the whole Nick thing.
A smile stretches my face to new limits, but I press my lips together and take a deep breath through my nose, shaking off feelings I shouldn’t have, especially about a moment that should never have happened and can never happen again. Unless I ask Su Ling to permanently switch shifts.
My phone buzzes from the pillows again and Nick shoves back into my thoughts and spreads guilt all over my head. No. Never mind. I’ll make sure I’m in the kitchen every Tuesday night from now on. It’s the only way I’ll be able to resist Marcus Miller and his smile.
My thoughts run wild in the empty dining room, swinging from pendant lights and jumping from table to table like Marcus-faced monkeys that have been caged since seeing him last night. I smile at the table as pots clang in the kitchen where the staff are prepping for breakfast.
I spray cleaner on tables and chairs, then scrub, hoping all thoughts of Marcus and last night’s fire escape moment will slip out my fingers and leave me in peace. I’d barely slept because when I closed my eyes, Marcus’s smile had flashed in my head and made it glow.
My phone buzzes and I set my cleaning rag in the bucket and pull it from my pocket.
Everything okay? Why aren’t you answering?
The smell of Drunk Nick seeps from my memory but I spray the table and scrub, like I can erase last night from my mind. Truthfully, there’s no room for bad memories with so much Marcus in my head. That's how I want to keep it, even if I’m torturing myself because no matter what he says, he can’t be interested in someone like me. We’re too different. And then there’s Nick. Who’s opened every door I’ve walked through since coming to America. In a few weeks, we’ll be in L.A. meeting celebrity chefs, and if I’m lucky, I’ll intern with one of them, all thanks to him. I want the future he’s helping me create. Flirting with another guy could ruin everything.
Especially if that guy has the gravitational pull of Marcus Miller.
I pull the fortune he gave me during my shift last night from my pocket and stare at the phone number. All I have to do is dial and…Marcus. I shouldn’t be thrilled Su Ling called in sick, but it was a Tuesday, and instead of hearing Detective Miller’s booming laughter above clanging pots and hissing grills in the kitchen, I was in the same room. Thank you, Su Ling.
The door chimes and I glance up, blinded by the rising sun pouring in with a man in a suit. My eyes adjust to Detective Miller striding across the empty dining room, his smile reaching me before he does. It’s an incredibly familiar smile, and I swallow, afraid he knows I was thinking about his son and is here to arrest me for thoughts I shouldn’t have.
“Hi, Mei Li.” He sticks out his hand, and I give him a shaky smile and wipe my hand on my apron before shaking his, then focus on the glossy black chair I’m scooting under the table. What if my eyes say something to him they shouldn’t?
“Hello, Detective Miller.”
“How can you work with those delicious smells? I’d be 400 pounds if I worked here. Noodles for every meal including breakfast.” He pats his flat stomach, his hand resting over his pink tie.
I laugh, spraying the table and wiping it, glancing at him as I work. “Breakfast doesn’t start for another half hour, but Wong will make an exception for you, I’m sure.”
He smiles. “Tempting, but I need my brain to function today, and noodles won’t help. I’d actually love to talk with you, if you have a minute.” His Southern accent rolls toward me and my throat goes dry. “Just a few questions. I’ll make sure you make your bus, promise. Mind if we sit?”
“Um…okay.” I set down the bottle and ease into the chair across from him, folding my hands in my lap and squeezing my fingers together because this is Marcus’s dad. He’s a detective. He detects lies for a living. He will detect mine.
He shrugs off his suit coat, throws it over the back of the chair, and sits. My nerves spark under my skin because Marcus strolls through my head in his soccer shorts while I stare at his dad.
“I’m sure you’re aware there’ve been multiple women who’ve vanished from this neighborhood in the last year or so.” He leans forward and rubs his chin, scruff rustling against his palm. “We’re busting our tails to find them.”
My body relaxes and I sit back in the chair, nodding. “Is there some way I can help?”
“Actually, yes.” Detective Miller leans his forearms on the table’s edge and the seams of his shirt strain while he studies the paper in his hand. He shifts in his chair and looks from it to me. Green eyes, not blue. “Su Ling was reported missing this morning.”
My heart drops and I lean forward, hand on my throat, my voice barely squeezing out. “Baba said she called in sick…”
“Detective Miller, good morning.” Baba’s voice echoes through the dining room from behind me and Detective Miller glances over my head before I twist in my chair, looking over my shoulder. Baba weaves around tables and Detective Miller stands to greet him. They shake hands but Baba’s smile is tight, like it might snap into a snarl any minute.
“Mei Li.” He speaks down to me where I still sit in my chair. “Better get going. Don’t want to miss the bus.” His words are like a clenched fist.
I grab the spray bottle and rags, leaving my chair scooted out for Baba but he stays standing. I nod at Detective Miller, then dart toward the kitchen, the news about Su Ling holding onto my ankles and dragging behind me as I grab my backpack and push through the back door.