Chapter 14 #2
He looked around. Where was Wayward anyway? With the uncompromising resolve of a biblical plague, Galahad Chu continued his
onslaught through the Lunar New Year party, in search for his ultimate mark.
“Shouldn’t we be socializing?” Bessie Machado asked. “Networking? I mean, all of the Sunfang Global board members are here.
Wouldn’t it be rude if we didn’t at least say hello?” She smoothed her cocktail dress, a red polka dot number that hugged
her generous curves. Indeed, she looked ravishing for her debut at Roses Sun’s legendary gala, her long brunette hair cascading
down her exposed shoulders.
Perched on the bloodwood kitchen counter across from her, Wayward took a chug straight from a magnum of crisp Krug champagne, his eyes still swollen from lack of sleep.
“No, no,” he said, leaning back. “The tradition of this party is to hide in the kitchen and drink. Way too many people out
there. Besides,” he added and pointed to their left, “your girlfriend’s not done fangirling over that stove.”
Holding her own bottle of Krug, Bessie’s girlfriend, Kat Norfolk, was marveling at the majesty of a gleaming gold stove stacked
against the wall like a massive treasure chest.
“That is a La Cornue,” she breathed in a hushed tone. “Julia Child’s stove of choice.”
“Funny you should mention, but it actually did belong to Julia Child,” Wayward said. “My aunt had it restored.”
Kat whistled. “You people have too much money.” She gestured around them. “I mean, this kitchen alone is bigger than our whole
apartment!”
“And you don’t know whether to be disgusted or in awe,” Wayward chuckled. “I get it. I feel it too, and I was born into it.”
“Poor little rich kid,” Kat cooed in mock sympathy. “How do you cope?”
Wayward laughed. “I drink!” He raised his bottle, as did Kat, and they clinked them so hard that Bessie was sure they’d crack.
“?Dios mío!” Bessie exclaimed. “You two are like frat boys together.”
Whereas Wayward and Kat individually looked quite debonair, the two of them had together accidentally opted for the same fit:
sharp black tuxedoes over dress shirts the color of pinot noir. They looked like an old-school comedy duo, having never met
before tonight but—much to Bessie’s surprise and relief—getting along famously.
“I still think we should be making the rounds,” Bessie continued. “You gotta start doing more outreach with the higher-ups,
especially since they are all against us.”
Wayward cocked an eyebrow at Kat. “You see how your girlfriend bosses me around?” he teased, before turning back to Bessie. “There’s no winning them over. There’s only steamrolling them, and that’s what we are going to do.”
Bessie leaned over to Wayward. “Speaking of, how did last night go?” she asked in a low voice. “Did you tell your cousins
about the baby plans?”
Wayward’s smile fell off his face. “I never got the chance,” he muttered back. “The whole night was a comedy of errors. A
complete fiasco, in fact.”
His friend furrowed her brow with concern. “I thought that was the whole point though . . . for you to reunite and get your
cousins all on the same side.”
“I might have to go it alone.” Wayward shrugged. “It’s fine, I’m used to it.”
Bessie put a supportive hand on his shoulder. “Not alone, Wayward. You got me.” The two of them smiled at each other.
“Evil corporation aside, I do know that you’re one of the good ones, Wayward,” Kat joined in, “from everything Bessie’s told
me about you. All that said . . .” She gestured around them again. “Hot damn, I can see how easily someone would sell their
soul to live in a house like this one.”
“Be careful what you wish for.” A deep voice with a slight Southern twang made them all jump before looking to see who it
was.
Bessie immediately recognized the handsome young man in the well-fitted suit with a debonair scarlet ascot. She used to greet
him, months ago, whenever he would pick up Wayward after work. But as she glanced at Wayward, Bessie could see that he was
just as surprised as she was.
Wayward Sun was a deer in headlights as his ex-boyfriend Jamaal Golightly walked into the kitchen, holding a bouquet of red
roses.
Wearing a fabulous vintage gold-and-ruby qipao that had been commissioned by Marlene Dietrich in 1920s Shanghai, Roses Sun swanned through her party, graciously greeting her many guests as they flocked to her.
She was accepting the governor of California’s thanks for her many contributions to his campaign when a finger tapped her on the shoulder.
Roses turned around and smiled graciously as she spoke in Mandarin. Oh, Tingting, you came!
Roses’s only sister-in-law smiled back at her. Your brother couldn’t make it, so on behalf of George and me, Happy New Year, Big Sister.
George Sun as a no-show to his family’s events was hardly anything new. If it was not for his wife, Tingting Fang, mother
to his daughters, Felicia and Lola, showing face, he would never be represented at Roses’s parties, and Roses in turn always
appreciated Tingting’s efforts to participate over the years.
A tall pale woman with thin lips and long straight hair streaked with silvery gray, Tingting had defied Roses’s strict dress
code by arriving in an all-white gown. White is the color of mourning—a most inauspicious choice for the festive Lunar New
Year. Roses wrinkled her nose at the faux pas.
Tingting noted this and smoothed her gown, saying, I did have something red picked out, but I had the oddest dream last night. It was of my father, Big Boss Fang. He was hopping
toward me, his legs stiff, his arms outstretched. She shivered. I woke up in a fright.
Roses felt a shiver in her own spine as well. Perhaps it is best we not talk about nightmares on Lunar New Year, Tingting.
Anyway, Tingting continued, I just wanted to commemorate him tonight by wearing white. I suppose it is also my way to honor your late father. Big Boss
Fang and Big Boss Sun did build a great empire together, didn’t they?
Roses smiled, though a bit stiffly. Yes, they did. But this topic was making her uncomfortable, and more than a little defensive. She cleared her throat. I should get back to greeting my guests.
Tingting nodded. Big Sister, I just want to congratulate you as you usher Sunfang into a new era with Iris’s boy. After George stepped down to make way for your vision, could our fathers ever have imagined that their company would undergo such extreme transformations?
Tingting then walked away, leaving Roses to wonder whether her brother would ever forgive her for what she’d done to him.
Jamaal Golightly was late to the party.
He was even later because he had stood outside the Malibu compound for nearly half an hour, wondering if he should go inside.
Most people would not dare be tardy to a personal invitation from Roses Sun, but Jamaal was not most people. He’d looked back
in the direction of his old Honda, far down the street of this exclusive community, thinking about his conversation with Roses
two days prior, when she had shown up unexpectedly at his doorstep.
Though she had walked into his tiny studio apartment as he held open the door, stunned to see her, Roses never sat down. And
though her tone and demeanor were polite and even warm at times, her intention never wavered as she explained her plans for
Wayward to Jamaal.
“I already know,” Jamaal had finally said. “And, to be honest, Roses, I told him not to do it.” He braced himself for a tempest.
But to his surprise, the Sun matriarch had simply nodded at him. “I figured you had, because like me, you are concerned that
it will be too much for him. That he will fall back on his bad habits. You know my nephew too well, Jamaal, and you care about
him. That is why I am here.”
It was all dawning upon Jamaal. “You want me to get back with him.”
Roses let out a small sigh. “It’s no secret that Wayward has always been my favorite. No one in his generation is more hardworking
and promising than him. But every yin has its yang. Great talent is often coupled with dangerous tendencies.”
“If you know that so well, why are you putting him in this position?” Jamaal had countered.
Roses suddenly smiled. “Because I know something else. I know that you truly love each other. Jamaal, with you two back together
where you belong, Wayward can achieve anything.” She then reached out and placed her hand on Jamaal’s shoulder. “Besides,
wouldn’t it be wonderful for this baby boy to have two fathers?”
There were sudden cheers from inside the mansion, jolting Jamaal out of the memory. Making up his mind, he’d opened the front
door and walked inside. He had a hunch where to go.
Sure enough, when he’d walked into the kitchen, he’d found himself face-to-face with Wayward, as well as Wayward’s colleague
Bessie, and a gray-eyed woman with cropped hair that he did not recognize.
“J!” Wayward gasped. He set down his champagne bottle so hard that it smashed open, spraying golden froth everywhere. Everyone
leaped back.
“Let me help you with that,” Jamaal said, setting down the rose bouquet to rush over to the paper towels next to the sink.
As the men wiped up the spill, they could not help glancing at each other, each unsure of how they felt, both of their hearts
racing.
Bessie was tugging on Kat’s sleeve. “Mamí, let’s go,” she mouthed, though she gave Jamaal an affectionate wave, glad to see
him back in the picture. Kat in turn gave Wayward a not-so-subtle two-thumbs-up as they departed.
Wayward gingerly picked up the last shard of glass and threw it into the trash. “This question always sounds rude, and I promise
it’s not meant to be, but . . . what are you doing here, Jamaal?”
Jamaal shrugged, his expression almost teasing. “Same reason everyone else is here. I was invited by the Roses Sun herself.”
“And you didn’t think to call or text me?” Wayward wondered what the hell Roses was up to.
“Wayward . . .” Jamaal’s face softened. “Is it true you tried to hurt yourself?”