Chapter Six
CHAPTER SIX
“W hat have you done?” I moan at Mushu for the sixteenth time.
From behind the changing room curtain, Mushu’s voice calls out, “I’ve saved the buyout for you. You’re welcome. How’re those jeans looking?”
“Like normal jeans? I’m still not quite understanding why I needed to get a new pair when I own, like, ten pairs of perfectly good jeans at home.”
“Mulan, Mulan, Mulan.” Then, without checking, Mushu yanks the curtain open dramatically.
“Hey!” I scramble to cover my shirtless top half.
Mushu gasps, her gaze locked on my jeans. “Oh, Mulan, they look so good! Turn around.”
“Get out of here,” I snap.
Completely ignoring me, Mushu pokes at my hip and says, “Look at the way these Western jeans hug your hips without squeezing your waistline. Which ones are these? The WRESTLE ME LOUDLY COWBOY jeans?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose as Mushu locates the tag attached to the back of the jeans. “That cannot be a real name for a pair of jeans.”
“Ah,” Mushu says, squinting at the tag. “Nope, this is the ULTIMATE FUN TIME DON’T MESS WITH THIS COWGIRL collection.”
“These names have got to be made up,” I grumble.
“Well, yes, they are. That’s exactly how names come about. You see, when an advertiser falls in love with a product, they get together and make an ad campaign with all sorts of catchy names in it,” Mushu says slowly.
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help smiling. “Shut up. You know what I mean.”
“According to this tag, the ULTIMATE FUN TIME DON’T MESS WITH THIS COWGIRL jeans are designed to make your ass pop while also having superfine stitching on the inside leg so your thighs don’t chafe when you ride.” Mushu grins and wiggles her eyebrows.
“Ew, gross, stop that, I wasn’t even thinking of him!”
Mushu’s eyebrows knot together. “Who’s him? Obviously I meant when you ride a horse. Who did you think I meant?”
Heat blooms in my cheeks and I avoid meeting Mushu’s gaze as unwelcome images of Shang float through my traitorous mind. “Uh, nobody. Just, you know, in general. Don’t be a perv.”
Mushu narrows her eyes. “I don’t think I’m the one being perverted here.” A slow, horrible grin spreads across her face. “Oooh.”
“Stop that, you look like the Joker.”
“I think we know who’s been on your mind,” Mushu sings.
“Nobody is on my mind!”
Mushu clasps her hands and presses them to her cheek. “Oh, Shang,” she trills. “Please sweep me off my feet with those granite-hard arms of yours and carry me into the setting sun!”
“Are you a horny teen?” I snap, but I can’t help giggling a little as Mushu swoons dramatically. Plus, Mushu isn’t technically wrong; I haven’t been able to keep Shang out of my mind ever since our disastrous meeting the day before.
After the meeting, I went to visit Baba at the hospital. He was asleep, so I talked to Mama and told her how badly the meeting had gone and how we now had to go to the Wutai Gold ranch and distillery to prove my “manliness.”
Mama laughed so hard that she had to grasp my arms to keep from collapsing to the floor. “Oh, Mulan,” she cried. “Only Mushu could’ve wrangled that outcome out of the meeting.”
“What do I do, Ma?” I said with all the helplessness of a toddler.
As Mama wiped her tears of mirth away, she said, “Well, you made your bed, now you have to lie in it.”
“I didn’t make my bed! Mushu did.”
“And who chose to go into the meeting pretending to be a managing partner, with Mushu as your associate?” Mama said, ignoring my groan. “You go to this ranch and you show them who’s the man.”
“I hate it, thanks,” I mumbled through my hands.
“You’ve got this, Daughter.”
But now, with my grandma underwear squashed by the tight ULTIMATE FUN TIME DON’T MESS WITH THIS COWGIRL jeans, the only thing I’m sure I have is a wedgie.
“These Western jeans are a winner,” Mushu says. “You look very much like a cowgirl, in the best possible way.”
Despite myself, I have to agree. The jeans are undeniably flattering, making my hips look curvier and my legs look longer. And, just as advertised, the stitching is smooth, making the material feel comfortable against my skin. All I need to do is lose the grandma undies and this will be the comfiest pair of jeans I’ve worn. How come I’ve never thought of getting a pair of Western jeans for myself? “Okay,” I say. “Let’s go pay.”
“Uh, you didn’t think we were done, did you?” Mushu says.
I stare at her with growing trepidation. “Um, I kind of did, actually?”
“Mulan, Mulan, Mulan,” Mushu says again, this time with an exaggerated sigh. “We’re only getting started.”
“We are?”
“Oh yes. We didn’t drive all this way to Wild Coyote to just get a pair of jeans. We’re here for an entire LOOK. We’re here to turn you from boring finance bro to Yankee cowgirl.”
After that, there’s no stopping Mushu. As I stand helplessly in the dressing room, Mushu drapes more and more things over me. First, a push-up bra so aggressive that I swear my breasts are shoved right up below my chin, followed by a tight checkered shirt. Despite the fact that the checkered shirt is long-sleeved and barely shows any skin, it’s so figure-hugging that it leaves nothing to the imagination. I hug myself, feeling oddly naked in the mirror.
“Gosh, look at the lift that bra is giving you,” Mushu says. “I’m getting myself one for that Women Entrepreneurs banquet that’s happening in about two weeks’ time.”
“Oh! Did you score an invite?” I say. Mushu has been talking about the banquet for almost half a year now.
“Not yet, but I know a couple of the organizers and I’ve been dropping hints to them about getting me on the list, so any day now,” Mushu says. Although she says this in her trademark flippant way, I sense a trace of insecurity behind her confident mask. I know how much Mushu would love to attend a banquet for women entrepreneurs.
Mushu gives herself a little shake and focuses her attention back on me. “Anyway, you look amazing.”
“Are you sure about this? The shirt’s so tight I can barely lift my arms.”
“Arm movement is so overrated,” Mushu says.
I try to lift my arms and get as far as my waist before the fabric threatens to rip. I glare at Mushu.
“Oh, all right, I’ll get a shirt that’s one size up. But it’s not going to make your boobs look as good, though.”
“You know what, that’s a trade-off I’m willing to make,” I call out.
As it turns out, the next size up is still really figure hugging, but I am at least able to move around freely in this one. “Is it really supposed to hug my curves like that?” I shudder at the thought of walking around in such a revealing outfit. I’m used to straitlaced navy and dark gray suits, clothes that are designed to make finance bros take me seriously, not see me as anything vaguely attractive. This shirt and these jeans are definitely a far cry from my usual office wear. Then Mushu adds a bright red kerchief around my neck and drapes a light blue denim jacket over my shoulders and I breathe a sigh of relief over the extra coverage that the jacket gives me.
“I look ridiculous,” I say, staring at my reflection.
“Only because the look isn’t complete yet.” With that, Mushu plops something heavy on my head.
It’s a cowgirl hat, because of course it is. It’s eggshell in color and has a brown feather sticking out of the left side, and I’m pretty sure I can’t go out in public wearing this outfit. “I—I can’t—”
“Wait, wait!” Mushu cries. “It’s not ready yet.”
“It’s not?”
“All right, ready for the pièce de résistance?”
“No,” I say earnestly.
In answer, Mushu brandishes a pair of shockingly ornate cowgirl boots. “These are the highest-quality cowgirl boots. Made of calfskin, they are supersoft on the inside but are so strong they’ll withstand anything the Wild West can throw at you, including boulders rolling over your feet and snakebites. Assuming the snake’s on the outside of the boot, that is. If the snake’s inside your boot…” Mushu laughs, slapping my back. “Well, gotta check your boots for snakes every morning, okay?”
I swallow. “Snakes?”
Mushu levels a flat gaze at me. “Mulan, we’re about to brave the wilderness. Of course there will be snakes. And scorpions, I shouldn’t be surprised. As well as loons.”
“What’s a loon?” I cry.
“You know, I’m not too sure myself. A wild bird would be my guess, but it could easily be some kind of fox? Who knows. Ask Google. Now put these boots on.”
In somewhat of a daze, I do as Mushu says, stuffing my feet into the boots. “I—I don’t know, they feel kind of tough.”
“That’s because they are. Snake bites, remember? Anyway, you’ll break them in soon enough.” Mushu stands back, looking me up and down. “You look like a real cowgirl.”
I gape at the mirror. Who is this girl staring back at me? “Why is my reflection someone I don’t know?”
“Girl, stop being so dramatic. You look like you’re ready to ride a bronco.”
“I don’t even know what a bronco is. Is that a wild cow?”
“Oh dear.” Mushu slaps a hand over her forehead. “We need to do a lot of work to get you ready for this trip, don’t we?”
“God, this isn’t going to work,” I moan, taking off the cowgirl hat and facing Mushu. “No one is going to buy that I grew up on a farm or a ranch or whatever it is my dad supposedly grew up on. What is even the difference between the two?”
In answer, Mushu places her hands on my shoulders and turns me back to face the mirror. “It’s going to work. You know how I know that? Because you’re the most determined human I have ever known. It’s honestly annoying as hell.”
“Thanks, cuz.”
“No, but really, do you know what it’s like growing up alongside you? My mom’s favorite phrase is: ‘Why can’t you be more like Mulan?’”
I draw in a sharp breath. “Oh, Mushu, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, it’s not your fault you’re so driven. I mean, did our other cousins and I bitch about you behind your back? Incessantly.”
“You need to work on your pep talks.”
Mushu gives a wry smile. “My point is, even though it was very stressful for me and probably contributed to my teenage acne, at the end of the day, I’m grateful to have you as a cousin. Because you showed me to work harder and aim higher. God, without you as a cousin, I would probably have been—I don’t know—a high school dropout. I mean it,” she adds when I open my mouth to protest. “I was so aimless in high school. I didn’t know what I wanted to do, I still don’t, honestly. But I was so inspired by you because you always knew. You never wavered. From when we were kids, you were like, ‘I’m going to work in finance.’ Can you imagine how freaking obnoxious that was? You were only eight. I didn’t even know what finance was. I thought it was like fortune-telling or something.”
I laugh. “It kind of is like fortune-telling.”
“Huh. Yeah, you’re right. But anyway, you know what I’m getting at. You inspire me, cuz. And you’re going to inspire these people.”
I gaze doubtfully at the mirror. “The only thing I’m going to inspire looking like this is laughter.”
“Or admiration. And let’s face it, who are we kidding? I bet you’ve done your homework, haven’t you?”
I gnaw on my bottom lip and avoid meeting Mushu’s eye. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“How many hours of reading have you done on ranches and distilleries since you found out you’re going on this trip?”
“Only the appropriate number of hours.”
“If it’s anything over one hour, it is not appropriate,” Mushu says dryly. “And what resources did you use? Wikipedia?”
I don’t answer.
“Great, so knowing you, you’ve spent at least five hours researching all the technical details of ranches and distilleries on Wikipedia.”
“Not just Wikipedia,” I grumble.
“God, you nerd,” Mushu says. “But that’s why I love you, cuz.”
I nudge Mushu with my shoulder. “I don’t deserve you.”
“No, you don’t. And yet, here I am.”
“Doesn’t the whole ‘Show them you can be manly, too’ thing bother you, though?”
“Nope.”
I give her the side-eye. “Not even a little bit?”
“Isn’t that what you’ve been doing this whole time at the firm? So you don’t look like yourself. You know what? I don’t even know what the real you looks like. I always see you in the office wearing power suits and talking like a finance bro. Or when you’re with your parents, you turn into this perfect Chinese kid and you carry yourself different. You even laugh differently. You’re used to playing all these roles, what’s one more?”
A lump forms in my throat. “Jeez, Mushu,” I joke, trying to hide how much Mushu’s words have affected me. “Since when did you become so perceptive?”
“Oh please, I have always been perceptive. I am one of life’s quiet observers. Also, I literally heard you out-burp Brian in the lunchroom last Tuesday.”
“That was because we were—We’d gotten those giant subs for lunch and were…” My voice trails off as I recall what I and the other analysts were doing.
“And you were having a competition to see who could eat their sub the fastest,” Mushu says. “A more dudebro way of spending your lunchtime I have never heard of.”
I sigh and look down at my feet.
“Face it, you’ve spent half your life trying to fit into the finance world, and it’s dominated by bros. The worst of bros, actually.”
“The quants at hedge funds aren’t that bad,” I mumble.
“They’re the least bad of the bunch, but guess what, we don’t work with them.”
“It’s the only way I can get taken seriously.” I haven’t felt so miserable, so much like a sellout, in a long time.
“I know,” Mushu says, her voice suddenly turning gentle. “I’m not holding it against you. I may not be an associate or an analyst, but I know what it’s like to have to work in a man’s world. I hate that we can’t just be ourselves for these dudebros to take us seriously. It’s just a sad fact, and you’re doing everything right. Which is why I know you can do this, you can convince the Lis that you’re man enough to take their stupid whiskey all the way to the top.”
“If you say so. But…” I massage my temples. “I don’t even have a plan beyond ‘Get the deal done.’ I mean, what’s going to happen if we do get the deal? I don’t have a long-term plan in place. Are we going to keep up this charade even after we acquire the company?”
“One step at a time,” Mushu says in a reassuring tone of voice. “First of all, you’re not the one who usually steps in and runs the companies you guys acquire. You hire someone else to actually run the operation, right?”
I nod. “Wow, Mushu, so you do pay attention to all this ‘finance-y stuff’ after all.”
“I’ve got hidden layers so deep you don’t even know,” Mushu says. “So you’ll acquire this company, you’ll find the right person to help fix whatever’s broken in it, and you’ll meet with these people, what, twice a year? Or maybe every quarter to look over their performance? That’s doable, right?”
It does sound doable, but none of it feels good to me. Why didn’t I foresee how slimy it would all feel? “I guess so.”
“I know so.”
Somehow, even though Mushu’s pep talk is the most confused pep talk in the history of pep talks, it’s having an effect on me. I gaze into the mirror and watch as my face turns from uncertainty to determination, my brows setting low and my mouth pinching grimly. Mushu’s right. One step at a time. The most important thing here is to not lose the company that Baba was so excited to acquire. I’ve had years of experience fighting to be accepted in a heavily male-dominated industry. This trip is going to be nothing compared to everything else I’ve had to go through to get to where I am in life. So I’ll have to herd a few cows, maybe, uh, feed a couple of chickens or whatever it is they do at a ranch. Did I not graduate top ten in my class? Did I not wow my Princeton professor with my thesis on game theory models and how to shed light on determining financial offers? Did I not beat out my classmates, many of whom were savants with IQs above 140 and titles like World Chess Champion or World Mathematics Champion? I am Hua Mulan, daughter of Hua Zhou and Hua Li, and the Lis would do well not to underestimate me.