I’m still drinking my stale Rogue when the phone rings.
“Wei?”
“Ellie, is that you?”
Meimei.
“Yes. Thanks for calling.”
“Where are you?”
“Beijing.”
She chuckles. “Yes, I assumed so. Where in Beijing? I can come to pick you up.”
I hesitate. If I’m wrong about her… well, I’m pretty much SOL. But I placed my bet. All I can do now is let it ride.
“Haidian. Near Beijing Daxue.” And I give her the address.
I’ve switched to Yanjing Beer because of the “beer-flavored water” factor. As much as I’d like to get really loaded, I know I’d better not. I don’t know what I’m getting into with Meimei.
I’m about done with a draft when she saunters into the bar. She’s wearing what looks like a vintage embroidered cowboy shirt, sky blue with red and yellow roses, skinny jeans, and cowboy boots. Snakeskin, I’m pretty sure.
“Cute bar,” she says, dropping onto the chair across from me.
I shrug. “I guess.”
“I think it is maybe…” She purses her lips. “More authentic than some other places, like the restaurant we go to before.”
More authentic? I have no idea what she’s talking about.
“Or maybe you are,” she says, smiling at me.
Great.
Why is it the last few years I feel like I’m always playing a game where I don’t know the rules and I don’t even know what the object is?
I sip my watery Yanjing Draft. Think, I tell myself. Here’s this woman. This girl. I mean, she’s younger than I am. She’s worn a different costume every time I’ve seen her. Like she’s trying on different identities. Maybe she doesn’t know who she really is.
Maybe in the core of herself, there’s nothing there.
I shiver a little, because people that are empty inside that way, I’ve met them.
“Yeah, you know, keeping it real and all,” I say.
She’s studying my face. “What happened to your eye?”
“Frisbee accident. I was playing with my dog. You want a drink?”
“Sure.”
I wave to the waitress.
“Just whatever you are having,” Meimei says.
“Zai lai liang bei zhapi,” I tell the waitress.
Two more beers.
“So,” Meimei says, after the beers come. “Have you been staying busy since we met for dinner?”
That has to be a joke, right? The way she’s smiling at me, it must be.
“Yeah,” I say. “Running around a lot. You?”
“Oh, not so much since we had dinner. Just… visiting with the family.”
“I thought Gugu went out of town,” I say. “To go work on his movie.”
“Oh, sure.” Meimei sips her beer. Her nose wrinkles. “He left this morning. Early.”
I think about it. I don’t know when Celine died; I didn’t stick around long enough to check her out too closely. But I’m guessing she’d been dead awhile by the time I got there this morning.
So last night. Not too early-I’m assuming that gallery is open during the day-someone would have found her, right? It could have been before dinner, I guess. Gugu and Marsh arrived late, now that I think about it. But probably after.
Everyone was pretty drunk by the end of that dinner, though.
Maybe no one killed her. Maybe she just OD’d.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
“Your Uncle Yang’s pretty pissed off at me,” I say.
“Oh? Why?”
“You don’t know?”
She pauses, as if to consider. “I think actually he was mad at your friend.” She rests two fingers on her cheek, tilts her head to one side. Stares at me, that little smile on her face, but without the usual amusement behind it. “Do you know why that is?”
Man, that game we’re playing? Whatever it is, I think she’s better at it than I am.
“I guess Yang Junmin didn’t like some of the things John had to say.”
Meimei nods. “Yes.” She puts on a thoughtful expression, like this is something she’s just now considering. Which I don’t believe, not for one second.
“It was almost as though your friend accused Yang Junmin of something,” she says.
So what do I do? Tell her I know about the dead girl at Tiantian’s party?
She must suspect that already, right?
I wave my hand, all dismissive, trying to match her performance. “It’s just his way of making conversation. John’s got kind of a thing for justice. Maybe he’s a little suspicious of powerful men.”
“And you say he is a businessman?” She chuckles. “Funny. Not so many businessmen are concerned with justice. Just with making money. And keeping that money safe.”
“He’s an unusual guy.”
“Apparently so.” She glances around the bar. “And he is not here?”
“He had some… some meetings.”
“I see.” She puts her elbows on the table and her chin on her fists. “So what can I do for you?”
“I need a ride,” I say.
“You want to go to Movie Universe?”
“Marsh invited me to come down and visit the set. Of their film.”
“I didn’t know you are interested in films,” Meimei says, chin still resting on her fists.
“I thought it might be fun. Plus, you know, Gugu and I, we still need to talk.”
“About the museum project.”
“Yeah. Right.”
“Okay.” She sits up straight. “So we can go together.” A smile. “I can even invite Tiantian. So we can all have this discussion.”
“I… maybe we should just keep it simple for now.”
“But it’s a long drive. We should just fly. I can get a car in Shanghai.”
“You mean, on your dad’s jet?”
She laughs. “No. That’s in Xingfu Cun. By the time he can get it here… Even my father has some trouble just flying to Beijing without a flight plan. Other places, sure, you can just go, fly a hei fei, but not Beijing.”
A black flight. I know about those, from back in the Sandbox.
Off the books.
“For a jet it’s faster to get a flight plan than for small planes, but still…”
Who knows how Sidney got me out of Shanghai so fast a couple of months ago, but I’m guessing it involved substantial amounts of money.
She sighs. “So silly. In a year or so, I think these rules will change. Many people in China want their own planes now, and to fly them when they want.”
“Yeah. Sure. Understandable.”
“So we can just fly on a regular airline.”
She checks her watch. It’s a fancy-looking retro thing, all stainless steel with actual hands, two tiny dials set in the larger face. “I think there is still a flight at ten p.m. If we hurry, maybe we can make it.”
“Yeah, well… I’d rather not do that.”
“Why?” She chuckles. “Do you have a fear of flying?”
“I, uh…”
Think your uncle-in-law might be watching the airport, waiting to see if my passport pops up when I buy a ticket.
“Yeah. Flying. Not crazy about it.”
“Maybe we can make the last train tonight to Shanghai, then. If I drive very fast.”
I will say this for Meimei: she’s a way better driver than Sidney. Or maybe it’s just that there’s enough traffic on the highway to the Beijing South Railway Station that she can’t drive quite as fast as he did the time I rode with him. Still, she weaves her Beemer two-seater in and out and around other cars with some grace, without slamming on the brakes, like she knows what she’s doing.
It’s possible that the Percocet I swallowed with the remains of my Yanjing Beer might be affecting how I’m feeling about things, too.
“In a few months, we have the gaotie, the high-speed train, between Beijing and Shanghai. We can get back and forth in just four, five hours. That will be lovely!”
“Yeah,” I say. “Looking forward to it.”
We make it onto the last train to Shanghai with seven minutes to spare, leaving Meimei’s car in a VIP lot and grabbing two upper berths in a first-class car.