Chapter 5 #2
Baccay transferred into town. Always the foremost among his peers in both height and heroism, Cristiano stood up for Wayward
on the former’s first day of school when he had a polite conversation with Chadrick O’Toole that ended with the contents of
young Chad’s Transformers backpack being dumped into the creek next to their playground. Wayward and Cristiano had been inseparable
for the rest of their childhoods.
Their friendship was solidified into true family ties when in their early twenties Cristiano fell in love with Wayward’s oldest cousin, April, and the two subsequently married, much to the initial hesitation of the Sun Clan, who had greater aspirations for their generation’s eldest than the nonmoneyed son of two nurse practitioners from Artesia.
Even Wayward had to get used to the idea of sharing Cristiano with his closest cousin.
Sadly, Cristiano and April’s early years of marriage were marked with tragedy, but that was when Wayward stepped up and was
there for the young couple as they dealt with unthinkable loss. Wayward then became their daughter Meadow’s godfather when
she was born. For a while, Wayward, Cristiano, and April had been the strongest faction within the Sun Clan.
That was, until Wayward joined Sunfang Global and surpassed April.
These days, Cristiano performed a delicate balancing act between his wife and his best friend. His greatest hope was that,
one day, the three of them could reunite once again.
Wayward deftly caught the water bottle and chugged it as Cristiano stole a glance at him. More than anyone in the world, Cristiano
knew Wayward, and he could tell something was wrong. Plus, Wayward had telltale dark circles under his eyes, meaning he was
not sleeping, which never boded well.
“I can feel your eyes on me, you creeper,” Wayward said as he added more weight to the barbell.
“Just checking out your flat ass,” Cristiano joshed.
“Hey, some of us have to reverse-engineer our East Asian asses,” Wayward replied, throwing the bottle back at him.
Cristiano let the bottle fall onto the garage floor, where it rolled into a corner. “Didn’t you have a big thing at work?”
he asked. “A major presentation or something?”
Holding a heavy weight plate in his hands, Wayward paused. He never lied to Cristiano, and he didn’t feel like starting today.
The truth was, Wayward hadn’t returned to work since storming out of his aunt’s office the day before.
“It didn’t go well,” he finally admitted.
Cristiano frowned. “That doesn’t sound like you. Want to talk about it? Was there something else that came up with Roses other than work?”
Wayward turned around slowly to sit down on the bench, facing his best friend. “Hey, Cris . . .” he said, sounding odd. “Do
you like being a dad?”
Cristiano leaned back as if surprised by this random question. “Whoa, okay, changing topics. Um, why are you asking?”
Wayward shrugged. “Just wondering.”
Cristiano answered genuinely. “It is both the greatest and the worst. But way, WAY more great.”
Wayward contemplated this. “I mean you HAVE experienced the greatest and the worst. Meadow is the greatest kid ever . . .”
“No arguing with you there,” Cristiano said with a sad smile.
“But after everything with Lewis . . .” Wayward began, and then they both heard someone approaching. At the same time, they
turned their heads toward the sidewalk outside of the garage. Standing there was a woman who Wayward had not seen in months.
Wayward spoke in disbelief, as though he were seeing a ghost.
“Mom?”
Sunbern and Shannon sat across from each other as the untouched carne asada nachos on the table between them hardened into
an unappetizing plastic sheen. Sunbern tried smiling again, but Shannon stared at him emotionlessly, not giving him an inch.
Sunbern gulped. “Thanks again for meeting me, Mooncakes. You look great.”
Shannon took a sip of her tequila soda. “What do you want, Sunbern?”
“You!” Sunbern blurted out. “I want you back, Shannon.”
She slipped her Gucci purse back over her shoulder, getting up to leave. “I don’t have time for this.”
He caught her by the wrist, pulling her back down into her seat. “Please, Mooncakes,” he begged, “just hear what I got to say.”
Shannon glared at him. “The entire world has already heard what you ‘got to say,’ or did you forget already? Do you know what
it has been like for me to have that shit follow me around? Do you know what pops up when people google me? Or have you been
too busy feeling pathetic about yourself as usual to consider what my life has been like?”
She sincerely meant every word, but out of the corner of her eye, Shannon also suddenly became aware that they had an audience.
They were being closely watched by some of the other patrons at El Coyote. Something inside her clicked, and she adjusted
her hair and sat up straighter, ever camera ready.
Sunbern was taken aback by her vitriol, and he quickly got defensive. “Listen, it hasn’t exactly been a cakewalk for me either!
To this day I still don’t know who recorded me, but that shit was taken out of context and you know it!”
This was at least partly true. When that fateful audio of Sunbern elaborating on his decidedly colorful theories about Asian
female sexuality had hit the internet about a year and a half ago, he had been completely blindsided. But as for whether it
had been taken out of context . . . Context is nearly always subjective, and even though Sunbern had been on psychedelic mushrooms
during this particularly damning monologue, his private views on women had been problematic for a long time.
Her ample chest now histrionically heaving, Shannon leaned over at him and practically screamed, startling a passing server
with her abrupt amplification. “Sunbern, you said that I had ‘GPS! GRATEFUL PUSSY SYNDROME!’”
With this spectacular outburst, cameras and iPhones whipped out all around them like a flurry of fireflies, as their fellow
diners confirmed that the famously canceled couple were making their public re-debut.
But Sunbern was still oblivious to the commotion around them.
He was too busy bitterly recounting the backlash that had instantly followed his leaked audio.
Even though Sunbern had had an entire modeling career as a celebrated face of diversity, AAPI social media had post-leak pummeled him as #NotLikeUs, a sore spot for the sole half-white member of the Sun Clan who never did quite feel like he fit in with full-blooded Asians.
Bristling at the painful memory of abandonment, Sunbern let his temper flare and he pounded his fist on the table. “And how
much Grateful Pussy merch have you sold, Shannon? And what about that rap collab with fucking Tekashi69? Or that failed pilot
on Bravo where you trashed my dick—which is a totally respectable size, by the way! First you took all my money, then you
buried me like the gold digger you are!”
Shannon cackled theatrically. “GOLD digger!? Don’t kid yourself, Sunbern, you’re nothing but a handful of DIRT, and you always
will be.”
Furious, the ex-lovers panted at each other, their eyes flashing with venom. To Sunbern, Shannon had never looked sexier,
back to demeaning him the good old way she used to, and he hated loving her for it. That was when he finally realized that
the entire restaurant was filming them, including the busboys, as well as passersby sticking their heads in from the street.
But before he could react, Shannon grabbed him by both cheeks and planted her shiny pink lips onto his. Sunbern reacted in
surprise, but his eyes quickly rolled up in ecstasy . . . as a swarm of eyewitnesses pressed Upload on their phones.
Just a few minutes later, they were fucking loudly in one of El Coyote’s gender-neutral restrooms. Devil may care, Sunbern
gallantly tore open his shirt to reveal his permanent sanctification of her name across his chest. With a squeal and a delighted
tongue, Shannon licked across the entire length of her name as Sunbern pounded his respectably sized penis into her.
Within twenty minutes, #SunShooReunited was trending nationwide on X, replacing stories of overseas war and social injustice
in the South.
Nobody had asked for it (except Lola, technically), but Asian America’s most cringe couple was back with a vengeance.
It was a good thing that Roses did not have social media, because at that very moment she was already dealing with enough
in Malibu.
Master Chu, you are abandoning me!? she exclaimed, nearly dropping her phone. But how CAN you? I NEED you!
Master Chu’s video feed was still artifacting terribly, but she could make out the regretful expression on his weathered face.
Now my dear Mrs. Sun, I would not say I am abandoning you. I am taking an extended pilgrimage to Bhutan as a guest of the
Dharma Raja there. It is a great honor that I have put off for years, partly because I have valued you so much as my longtime
patron.
Roses was still aghast. But everything that we have planned, everything that is in motion—how will I manage without your counsel? Already you see
that the situation is so fraught! Wayward still has not returned any of my calls!
I will still check in with you occasionally, the old fortune teller assuaged her. Never fear, Mrs. Sun, that the fates will always guide your illustrious family to the best possible outcome. Your destiny
is not to become a hungry ghost. I can promise you that, my dear woman.
Is it money? Roses snapped, fed up with being denied the second time in as many days, an affront she seldom encountered. You know money is no object, but you cannot just abandon me at this impossibly crucial moment.
The video went black, and she feared that their connection had been broken. But then Master Chu’s voice crackled through the
speaker, starting with a guttural sigh. Mrs. Sun, he said gently, I do not wish for us to part on such uneasy terms after all these years. I believe I may have a solution.