faucet. “The only place where a leaky faucet is
piào liàng
is in the desert,” I think. Not bad, but I doubt the others will appreciate it.
When I get to the lounge, everyone is already there except for Uncle. I take my usual seat next to Abbie.
Abbie runs a hand through her hair and flashes me a smile.
Lydia is seated on the other side of Abbie. She likes that spot because she can see her reflection in the window. As far as she is concerned, there are not nearly enough mirrors in the world. Apart from loving herself, Lydia’s a bit of a mystery. She laughs hard at all Frank’s inane jokes, however, which puts her on his team as far as I’m concerned.
Across from Lydia is Raoul. Now, there’s a guy who gets my sympathy. He wants to do well but just hasn’t got the talent. He can’t seem to size up a situation and take appropriate action, which is almost second nature for the rest of us. And he tends to drop stuff. Again, not a great quality for a thief. None of this was obvious while Johan was his partner because I think he used to cover for Raoul. But now with Johan gone his flaws are more noticeable. It’s anyone’s guess why Uncle still keeps him around.
“Uncle has asked that we start without him,” says Nassim, and immediately I can feel the tension in the room go down.
“He will join us as soon as he finishes up with a client,” he continues, and the tension ratchets back up a notch.
“Caleb, will you say the prayer, please?”
I look down at my plate. Saying the blessing is still fairly new. Uncle introduced the idea a couple of weeks ago, saying that studies show that saying a prayer before eating has spiritual and physicalhealth benefits. Healthy or not, I hate it. We’re not allowed to say the same one twice, and all the variations of the easy ones are already long used up. Then I remember something I saw on a Domino’s pizza billboard on West Broadway.
“A slice is twice as nice as rice. Amen.”
Nassim opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something but then closes it.
Frank gets up. “Abbie, would you like to help me serve the Peking duck?”
She jumps out of her seat, as if her pants are on fire. “You made Peking duck, Frank? You’re amazing.”
And there it is. She thinks he’s amazing just because he can cook a dead bird. But this isn’t the first time I’ve heard Abbie say the words
amazing
and
Frank
in the same sentence. Why anyone would be impressed with Frank easily makes my top ten list of life’s greatest mysteries (I have it as number four, right between Stonehenge and the Pyramids). Maybe it’s his looks: I suppose he could be considered handsome by some members of the opposite sex, what with all those muscles and teeth. Not that he has more teeth than average—they’re just so blindingly white. Or maybe it’s his take-charge attitude. Whatever. In my book, Frank is totally false: he cares only about himself. Plus, if he sees you as a threat, he’ll do everything in his power to take you down.
I slouch in my chair. Much as I can’t stand Frank, I have to admit he’s good at everything he does, including cooking. And with the Great Friendship, he’s expanded his repertoire to Chinese dishes.
A minute later, he returns, toting a huge platter with a shiny brown roast duck on it. Abbie is right behind him with a plate of cucumbers and a bowl of sauce.
He starts carving up the bird with expert strokes. Frankly, I’msurprised that Uncle okayed this meal. That duck must have been
très
expensive.
Just then, Nassim sits up ramrod straight. Next, I hear crisp, military-like footfalls coming down the hall. Only one person walks that way.
“Good evening, all,” says Uncle as he sweeps into the room. He’s wearing a bright yellow silk robe with red dragons up and down the sleeves, which, as he likes to point out, is a
hanfu
, the same kind of robe the emperors of ancient China wore. But it doesn’t end there. He’s got a funny-looking black hat on
piào liàng
is in the desert,” I think. Not bad, but I doubt the others will appreciate it.
When I get to the lounge, everyone is already there except for Uncle. I take my usual seat next to Abbie.
Abbie runs a hand through her hair and flashes me a smile.
Lydia is seated on the other side of Abbie. She likes that spot because she can see her reflection in the window. As far as she is concerned, there are not nearly enough mirrors in the world. Apart from loving herself, Lydia’s a bit of a mystery. She laughs hard at all Frank’s inane jokes, however, which puts her on his team as far as I’m concerned.
Across from Lydia is Raoul. Now, there’s a guy who gets my sympathy. He wants to do well but just hasn’t got the talent. He can’t seem to size up a situation and take appropriate action, which is almost second nature for the rest of us. And he tends to drop stuff. Again, not a great quality for a thief. None of this was obvious while Johan was his partner because I think he used to cover for Raoul. But now with Johan gone his flaws are more noticeable. It’s anyone’s guess why Uncle still keeps him around.
“Uncle has asked that we start without him,” says Nassim, and immediately I can feel the tension in the room go down.
“He will join us as soon as he finishes up with a client,” he continues, and the tension ratchets back up a notch.
“Caleb, will you say the prayer, please?”
I look down at my plate. Saying the blessing is still fairly new. Uncle introduced the idea a couple of weeks ago, saying that studies show that saying a prayer before eating has spiritual and physicalhealth benefits. Healthy or not, I hate it. We’re not allowed to say the same one twice, and all the variations of the easy ones are already long used up. Then I remember something I saw on a Domino’s pizza billboard on West Broadway.
“A slice is twice as nice as rice. Amen.”
Nassim opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something but then closes it.
Frank gets up. “Abbie, would you like to help me serve the Peking duck?”
She jumps out of her seat, as if her pants are on fire. “You made Peking duck, Frank? You’re amazing.”
And there it is. She thinks he’s amazing just because he can cook a dead bird. But this isn’t the first time I’ve heard Abbie say the words
amazing
and
Frank
in the same sentence. Why anyone would be impressed with Frank easily makes my top ten list of life’s greatest mysteries (I have it as number four, right between Stonehenge and the Pyramids). Maybe it’s his looks: I suppose he could be considered handsome by some members of the opposite sex, what with all those muscles and teeth. Not that he has more teeth than average—they’re just so blindingly white. Or maybe it’s his take-charge attitude. Whatever. In my book, Frank is totally false: he cares only about himself. Plus, if he sees you as a threat, he’ll do everything in his power to take you down.
I slouch in my chair. Much as I can’t stand Frank, I have to admit he’s good at everything he does, including cooking. And with the Great Friendship, he’s expanded his repertoire to Chinese dishes.
A minute later, he returns, toting a huge platter with a shiny brown roast duck on it. Abbie is right behind him with a plate of cucumbers and a bowl of sauce.
He starts carving up the bird with expert strokes. Frankly, I’msurprised that Uncle okayed this meal. That duck must have been
très
expensive.
Just then, Nassim sits up ramrod straight. Next, I hear crisp, military-like footfalls coming down the hall. Only one person walks that way.
“Good evening, all,” says Uncle as he sweeps into the room. He’s wearing a bright yellow silk robe with red dragons up and down the sleeves, which, as he likes to point out, is a
hanfu
, the same kind of robe the emperors of ancient China wore. But it doesn’t end there. He’s got a funny-looking black hat on
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