Chapter 25 Chi
Chapter 25
Chi
I wake up to the light pouring through the windows of this modest little house. There are old, rickety shades, but they don’t do much. I study them for a moment, for some strange reason, finding beauty in the wear and tear, wondering how many families lived here before Andy bought it for his own purposes.
I look out the window into the small backyard and think through all of the generations. I think about the mothers who played with their children out there, kissed their scrapes and bruises away without a world-class doctor on staff to make sure they were okay, and made canned pasta for lunch in the winter. When they bought those ancient blinds, were they the best available? Were they excited at the design? Did they talk about it with their friends over coffee, about how they were remodeling the home and how exciting it was?
A whole life, so different from the one I’ll live. It doesn’t feel noble, or even courageous, to fight for a run-of-the-mill life that will affect nothing and no one. I will have power and sway far beyond the dreams of anyone who ever lived in this house. Far beyond anyone who ever lived in a house like this one, or like any on this street or in this neighborhood. It’s not I who should envy them. I’m Chichi Yan, and I was born for more. I have so much and am extremely privileged to have it all — things that my own ancestors worked for decades to obtain.
But I can pretend. I can pretend for a little while longer that I could be one of those people. That my choices will affect only me and my little family — that I could even have a close family. That I could love my husband and my kids, wipe their tears when they scrape their knee, and teach them how to ride a bike. So, I let myself think about it. About… us. Andy and I.
The bed next to me is still rumpled and carries Andy’s citrusy scent. I close my eyes and take a deep breath of the pillow, pretending that I’m that 90s housewife, about to spring out of bed, put on my makeup, get my kids on the bus, and go to the gym while my husband is working hard making the lion’s share of our income. And for a few minutes, my cold heart is filled with warmth.
Then I realize I’m smelling real coffee — my favorite coffee — and smile at the fact that Andy has actually brought it here to this safehouse that he probably never even comes to anymore since he spends all of his nights with me now. That’s what the good-looking, sweet 90s husband would do for his doting wife, after all. “You like the coffee at this fancy Italian restaurant? I’ll order it for us!”
I sigh dreamily as I drag myself out of bed and step lightly through the room and down the hall. As I walk, the distinct smell of fresh herbs catches my attention. I follow it to a door, slightly ajar. When I open it, I see Andy hunched over a small trove of different plants, pruning one that looks like it might actually be spinach.
I’m too stunned to be amused. “What are you doing?”
Andy startles at this intrusion, which I’m certain I’ve never seen him do before this moment. He looks like he’s been caught stealing something. “Uh… this is sort of like… a greenhouse.”
I finally laugh in amazement. “What?”
He turns toward me and puts his hands behind him on the shelf, leaning back, trying to look casual. “Do you not know what a greenhouse is?”
“Ummm, I know what a greenhouse is, but… what?”
“Do you have an actual question you want to ask?” Andy asks, and he finally seems to be taking some enjoyment in my shock.
“Andy… how do you have a greenhouse? This room is like… slightly larger than a closet. How do you take care of these things? Do you come here to this safehouse just to, like, water these plants?”
He bites his lip, as if considering whether to answer me truthfully. “Well, I have a housekeeper, and maintaining them is part of her job. Then I come once in a while to check on them. It’s not a big deal or anything.”
He turns back and takes his small clippers to one of the tiny branches while I continue to stare unabashedly. “It’s like… I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
He turns his face to the side and smirks. “Well, I guess you’re not the only one with a hobby, Princess Leia.”
I squash my laughter behind the back of my hand. “At least I’m open about my love of sci-fi/fantasy. But here you are, a closet gardener. Literally.”
“You know, only a billionaire would think this is the size of a closet.” He shakes his head in mock disappointment. “It was a sewing room when I bought the place.”
“Ohhh, a sewing room. That goes perfectly with the vision I had of who used to live here.”
Now Andy stops his pruning. “Huh?”
“I was just lying in the bed and looking out the window thinking… who lived here before you bought it? I figured you probably got it for all cash, and it’s in this quiet, sleepy neighborhood on the outskirts of the suburbs. Just barely a part of it all. And like… who were the people who wanted to live here? What kind of life would they have had?”
He has a curious smile on his face when he turns it toward me again. “If you want to know, I can tell you. It was an old lady who had lost her husband. This house was sitting on the market for almost a year when I sent someone to look at it, but it was a terrible deal, which is why it wasn’t selling. The old lady wouldn’t budge on the price, though. So, we were about to move on a different house when suddenly the price dropped. I found out that she had died and the daughter had cut the price down to get rid of it.”
I snort, shaking my head and rolling my eyes. “And here I was, thinking it was some sweet family who truly loved each other, out in the country, ignorant to the woes of the world.” I say in mock wistfulness.
Andy stops and picks up a few tiny onion-looking things, along with a few peppers and the spinach leaves. “Well, yeah, it sounded that way. The daughter was so sad that she barely spoke when we met for the closing, and when we undercut her by $30k, she just went along with it. She left everything. Look — the sewing machine and table are in the corner there. She cried when she told me she only needed one day to get all the shit she really wanted out, and said she couldn’t handle going through the rest. So… I guess your feeling about this place was right, Chee-chee.”
A strange, bitter melancholy tugs at my heart, but I push it aside and try to make a joke. “I must be clairvoyant!”
Andy gives me a small laugh before changing the subject. “I have enough here to make some pretty decent omelets.”
He leaves the room with me, hands full of vegetables, and we walk down the hall together to the kitchen. I shake my head, still in disbelief that he’s had a secret garden in his safehouse the entire time I’ve known him and has been maintaining it with only the help of one lone housekeeper. “So you grow your own veggies… to make yourself omelets? On the occasion that you actually come here to eat something?”
He shrugs, but I see a slight twinkle of defensiveness in his eye. “If they need to be picked and I don’t have a use for them, I give them away or stick them in the fridge… wherever I am. Before I was staying at the mansion with you, I stayed here a lot more often. It was where I spent most of my time, anyway. Sometimes I went to check on Cas’s house in Pennsylvania, and he has a few more safehouses throughout the Boston area that I use on occasion. But it’s mostly just this one.”
He takes out an old omelet pan and puts it on the electric stove. “These pans burn sometimes, so sorry in advance.”
“How old are they?” I ask, noticing more and more that it’s clearly not only the blinds that are completely outdated. Everything in here screams, “Ninety’s furnishings.”
“Probably as old as everything else.” He chuckles, catching my eye. “I know it’s super outdated. I don’t know why I like it… I just do.”
“I think I can see why,” I say, looking around the room with a hint of a smile on my face. “There’s something that feels so… cozy.”
Andy studies the faux suede painted walls with some fondness. “Yeah, I guess that’s it. It reminds me a little of my house growing up. My parents were so fucking normal compared to…” his eyes connect with mine and he drifts off, reconsidering his words.
I laugh good-naturedly. “Compared to mine? Yeah, obviously.”
He considers me for a moment and then shrugs. “Compared to anyone’s in this life. My grandfather was wealthy, but my mother married a normal, everyday, run-of-the-mill lawyer. He went to work, worked hard, and came home. I was their only child so…. I guess I was kinda spoiled.” He huffs out a laugh, seeming lost in the memories.
“That sounds… really cool,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. I want to hear all about this, and I hope he continues. I’m so glad when I get my wish a moment later.
“Yeah, well, my grandfather wasn’t super happy that my mom took what he felt was a step backward. But, ya know, he had to do some bad shit to be a rich guy, too. And he still wasn’t rich like your dad is rich. You know, a multimillionaire with billionaire dreams.”
His eyes are focused on the wall now, as he thinks. “He had his two girls: Cas’s mom and mine. And he taught them to marry up. But I don’t think my mom or Cas’s wanted that life, to be honest.” He takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with air and letting it out slowly.
“Even after my aunt — Cas’s mom — got pregnant by a mobster, she knew she had to get away. She didn’t want Cas to grow up in that life. So, she came here to Boston and lived by us. My mom helped her out… gave her the leg up that Cas’s own fucking father didn’t give her. But his dad came for him anyway when I was 11-years-old. We had grown up together. He was my role model. I wanted to be just like him. But when my father took the wrong case, prosecuted some low-level mob boss, and got killed for it… I was so angry. I joined the military to see if I could do something to make anything better, you know?” He swallows, looking right into me. I’m fucking riveted to his every word. And he knows it.
“Did you?” I breathe out, hoping to hear the answer I know I won’t hear. Hoping to hear that he did it. That he found a way to make something better. To make anything in this fucked up world better.
“It was the same, Chi. It was all the fucking same. The government, the judges, the army — it is the mafia. They’re just more sophisticated about it. More sanctioned.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding. “So… so that’s why you left?”
“Yeah,” he sighs out heavily. “I left and went to Cas. Because I couldn’t fucking take the hypocrisy. And at least Cas wasn’t any of them, you know? He wasn’t the government or the mob. He was… whatever he wanted to be at that point, away from his father’s legacy. And that’s what I want to be. I take the jobs I want, and I’m fucking good at it. I work with whoever I want, protect the people I think deserve protection. It’s almost like I’m helping who I want to help, instead of whoever my boss, sergeant, or overseer of some kind decides would be most tactical to help.”
“Wow,” I say, feeling winded even though I’m not the one who gave the explanation. I’ve always known the government and mafia families are more entwined than American citizens typically know, but I didn’t think they’d be the same. The government is supposed to have some officials who are interested in truly helping the people of their country and the world around them. Do-gooders who are there for more than the power and the wealth.
I always thought that no one gets into the mob scene for anything except power and wealth. Although, I suppose, when I think about it, an organization like Cas’s can help people as much as it can hurt them. I wonder if there are some do-gooders there. I guess it’s possible.
Then, my brain switches gears, and I wonder what I will have to affect. If I’ll have to make decisions that hurt people for money and power. Not much about this life really makes me cringe these days, but I want to at that thought.
When I finally come back to the moment, I realize that Andy has finished chopping up the tiny onions and is starting on the peppers. “So… what kind of omelet is this going to be?” Suddenly, I desperately want to change the subject. It’s feeling a little too heavy in here.
“Shallot, spinach, and cheddar cheese, because that’s the only cheese I have here and these veggies happened to be ready. I also have a few cucumbers, but those don’t exactly go well with an omelet.”
I move a curl back out of Andy’s face, even though it’s too short to reach his eyes. I just want to touch him. “Thank you,” I whisper with a grateful smile. “This has been… really, weirdly one of the best days I’ve had in a long time.”
“I’ll tell someone to call in a bomb threat next time.” Andy gives me a devastating little quirk of his mouth and goes back to focusing on the veggies.
“Do you have any idea who it was? What it was? Was it just a false alarm, or what?”
Andy swirls the eggs around with a whisk and dumps them and the veggies into the pan. “We’re not really sure, Chi. Honestly, it could’ve been some kind of innocent interference, like animals or fucked up wiring or something. But Oxy says to be careful and that it could be someone testing our defenses to see what we have here, or how we respond to threats. I think we probably showed them that they aren’t going to get very far. Hopefully they’ll fix their sights on an easier target next time because of that.”
I nod, absorbing this information, as he finishes up the omelets and puts them on paper plates. He fixes my coffee the way I like it, and I realize that he has been bustling here and there all morning while I’ve been lazing around in my PJs. “You’re gonna eat with me, right?” I ask as he shoves a forkful of his food into his mouth.
“Sure. That’s what I’m doing.” He checks his phone messages and takes another bite.
“Come sit down with me.”
He catches my gaze and gets my meaning. “Oh. Okay.” He walks around the counter of the galley kitchen and through the large archway into the dining room, where I sit.
“You don’t relax,” I point out with a smirk.
“No, not really.”
“Well, tell me more about what might be going on. Why do you think someone would want to test my father’s security?”
Andy shrugs. “Like I said, it’s probably nothing to worry about. I don’t want to make a big deal out of it. It’s just that sometimes after a big war happens and there’s some tumult and unrest, you know, smaller organizations get antsy. Some bosses want to see if they can’t get more. If there’s an opening somewhere, others will take it, especially in times of uncertainty. It’s the easiest way for them to amass more power with as little effort as possible.”
I nod and chew my omelet, which is seasoned fucking perfectly. Probably better than my own chef makes mine on the occasion that I actually ask for one. “So, you think it could be anyone? Testing boundaries? Seeing who the easiest targets might be?”
Andy nods. “Yeah, but we’ll keep an eye on it, just in case.”
I put my chin in my hand, thinking. “I always wonder if my mom and my brother have these same issues over in Japan. I wonder if the war here stretched over there, too. Like, do they know how much is in flux here? They must, I guess. The leaders who are bringing their sons to meet with me must know about what has happened, and they bring news of it to the other leaders in Japan.”
Andy bites into his toast and nods. “Yeah, most likely. I think most Japanese leaders know what’s going on here. So do your brother and your mom, I’m sure.”
I roll my eyes. “Somehow, I always doubt my brother actually knows anything. Or gives a shit. He has nothing to do with any of this.”
Andy studies me critically. “Really? Because that’s basically unheard of. You know that, right?”
I look back at him with curiosity. “What? That they don’t give a shit?”
“Well, yes,” Andy chuckles, “but also that they have nothing to do with any of it. Even if they don’t give a shit, they’re often given no choice. Basically, your dad could tell your brother, ‘Well, too bad. You can either join me and take up the mantle when I’m gone, or you can go out there and fend for yourself.’ Which really means to go out there and get killed. Because there’s no way that someone wouldn’t make an example out of him if that were the case.”
I put my fork down, shaking my head. “Oh, my father would never do that to one of his children.” Right after I say the words, I reconsider. I actually don’t know what my father would do. I probably don’t even realize half of what he’s capable of. I’m his doting daughter. I do everything he asks and have never strayed. He’s never had a reason to take out his full wrath on me.
Andy seems to read my mind and gives me an encouraging little smile. “Well, whatever is happening over there, something is causing it. If your brother really has no part in this business, there’s got to be some big reason. Do you know anything about any role he’s ever had? Do you even know anything about him?”
I shrug a shoulder. “I mean, not really. I’ve told you they’re so much more private than I am here. I truly think they live in a nice, big, beautiful house on the ocean in Japan and never leave it. The last time I saw him, he was my age, I think. I was 16. He was nice enough, but I only said a few words to him. It was super awkward standing next to him with his arm on my shoulder, like he was some kind of protective big brother or something. I don’t know him at all.”
Andy shakes his head. “The more I think about that situation, the stranger it seems to me, Chi. I mean, heirs in the Yakuza are more often male than those in the Italian or Russian mafia. Any female that has had any sort of sway has been the wife of a weaker leader, as far as I know. I can’t imagine that if your brother has all of his faculties, your dad isn’t making him take over the title. Did he do something really bad that you know of?”
Andy doesn’t even give me time to answer before he answers himself. “But even if he had done something bad, your father could just disown him. And why wouldn’t he? If he can’t use him as an heir, why would he care either way? Especially when he doesn’t even live in the same country as this kid and barely ever sees him.”
“Never,” I say. Andy looks up at me, as if coming out of a trance. “He never sees him, as far as I know. He never sees my mom, either.”
Andy seems to ponder this for a long moment.
“You don’t think he poses any sort of threat, do you?” I had honestly never even thought of it before.
Andy licks his lips, thinking hard for another moment, before snapping back into the conversation. “Like I said, it was probably just random small-time leaders who want to try and break through your dad’s forces. Don’t think too much of it.”
“Don’t worry my pretty little head?” I ask sarcastically, with a dry smile.
“Something like that.” He reaches over the short table and brushes my hair behind my back. “I like to see your whole face. And your shoulders,” he says, his eyes roving over me. I’m going to have to finish this omelet quickly if I actually want to eat it.
I cram half my omelet into my mouth before I ask, “How much time do you think we have before everyone wonders why we’ve been gone so long after the threat has dissipated?”
“Hmmm… you can let me worry about that, too.” Andy cocks a grin as I shove the last bite of omelet into my mouth, and he practically picks me up off the chair to bring me into the bedroom. “But I guess we’d better hurry. Just in case.”