“Did he threaten you?”
“Not in a way that would affect Fangli.”
“You’re lying again.”
I uncross my arms. “I have a lawyer, okay? It was handled.”
“There’s more you’re not telling me.”
“Can we not talk about it? I assure you I have it under control.” This time I keep my body open and look him in the eye.
After a long beat, he sighs. “I can’t force you into talking, but between you and Fangli, I’m drowning in secrets.”
I have no answer to this because it’s true. We drink quietly, pay up—my treat since I owe him dinner, even though he protests—and leave to go back to the hotel without saying much else.
Fucking Todd spoils the party again.
***
Fangli is able to get to work the next day. She pops her head through my door to give me a hug before she leaves, and though she’s pale, her shoulders and gaze are straight. “Thank you,” she says.
“It got better for me,” I blurt out. “Once I got help. It was hard though. I felt weak, like I couldn’t handle my own problems. Talking to someone about how I felt…yeah. Hard.” Of course it was. I can barely bring myself to talk to people I like about my issues, let alone a stranger.
Her gaze flickers down. “Hard. Also easier?”
“Because you don’t feel like you’re burdening someone with your problems.”
“Yes.”
“It’s not going to happen all at once,” I say. “Slow but steady.”
“The turtle, not the hare.” She pulls her hair around her shoulder and looks at the ceiling. “That’s what the therapist said to me yesterday.”
I raise my fist high. “To turtles. Long may we prosper.”
This has her smiling—only a small lift to her mouth but I’ll take it—as she leaves, Mei muttering into her phone beside her. I’m in a better mood after talking to her. I like Fangli. Sam said she considered me a friend. I want that, although I also know she’ll be back in China soon and I have trouble enough maintaining friendships with people in my own city. I consider this. It’s also possible that our short but intense relationship, much like people get on cruises, is fooling me into seeing more than there is. I hope not. I’d like to keep her in my life.
I push all these worries away and pull out Eppy. Today is the day that I’ve decided to test it out, and I happily log all the things on my mind into the neat columns. It takes about twenty minutes for my total brain download and then another ten to check my calendar to make sure I’ve logged in all my events and appointments. I need a calendar sync feature and jot that down in the “App” column.
Then I manufacture a coffee from the pods and simply smile at my laptop. It’s there. My idea is there, in front of me. It might be dumb to be proud of creating a to-do list, but I am. This isn’t like anything else out there.
Time to start. First thing is to pull together what sets my app apart because I’m going to need money to hire a coder and launch it. I’m building the plane as I’m flying but I feel good.
By lunch, I’ve found a few problems, and after I make notes, it’s time for a walk to get the blood flowing. No one can be creative stuck at a table for hours. It’s a bright and sunny day and my steps are light as I wander around without a destination. I text Anjali, who wants to know if Sam continues to be hot and I continue to be alive.
Yes. We kissed, I reply.
Anjali: Sorry WUT and why do you always tell me this shit when I’m in a meeting OMFG was it awesome how why when.
Me: For a promo. Fangli couldn’t make it so I had to play her.
Anjali: I repeat was it awesome
I stare at the phone for a minute before I write back, Yeah.
She sends back seven eggplant emojis.
I wish Anjali was in the city to talk to but she’s off on a work trip. Stop that.
More eggplants. I need details when I’m back.
I send a thumbs-up emoji because my feelings about Sam are too complicated for me to deconstruct, let alone summarize on text. How do I try to explain kissing Sam over and over? The film crew took multiple takes and each time he moved us a bit differently, touched me a new way so that I forgot about everything in the world but him.
I suppose my feelings aren’t complicated at all. I know what the issue is. I’m falling in love with Sam. In the most clichéd of clichés, I’ve got a thing for a movie star who is going to bye-bye out of my life in weeks.
The least I can do is keep it to myself, so he doesn’t know. That’s a risk that I’m not willing to take, not even at my bravest. The shame of rejection would be too much. Sam said he was surprised that I could act at all. Well, let’s keep that going.
Twenty-Nine
The next two weeks pass in a fairly predictable routine. Sam and Fangli work. I half-assedly job search and whole-assedly refine Eppy. Every few days, I visit Mom. At night, Sam and I go out to smile and be seen, and I am careful to keep conversation light and my hands to myself.
Thus ends the first month of me pretending to be a movie star. This is what I’ve learned.
Eppy is super amazing and I’m going to be a millionaire and maybe in Vanity Fair to talk about how it changed my life in a very inspirational but humble profile story. I have put this out to the universe multiple times.
Being a movie star has become easier now that I have the hang of it.
Fangli is cool and I like her very much.
Mei is professional and I take it at that. She considers me staff.
Mom doesn’t do much but look out the window every time I visit, and I call Xin Guang every two days in a polite and cheerful not-pushy way to say “I remain very interested.”
Sam…is killing me. Killing me simply by existing. Even when he’s not near me, I think about him and I don’t like it. Agatha Wu Reed always warned me against letting a man take up too much space in my thoughts, and Sam consumes an inordinate amount of my waking time, partly because he’s around so often. My suite has become a bit of a gathering place for the three of us late at night—Fangli, Sam, and me—where we watch movies, go online to check out the world’s weirdest houses or grossest recipes, do quizzes to see what Disney princess we are, or play cards. That’s the most fun because although Sam might have crushed me at video games, he’s atrocious at cards and Fangli and I take great pleasure in his inability to hide how much it bothers him to lose.
“War?” I ask one night in disbelief as Fangli checks over the deck to see how he messed up yet again. “You even lose at War?”
“I had bad cards,” he sulks.
“Five times in a row?”
It’s this side of Sam that has me stuck. He’s unguarded and that makes him more real and unbearably attractive. He doesn’t change from when he speaks to me or Fangli and me together. I know it’s genuine but it’s as friends. Sometimes the two of them lapse into Mandarin but my app has only gotten me to eating in a restaurant (Wo yao chao fan, I can now order fried rice) so there’s a lot I miss. Occasionally he shoots me a look from the corner of his eye paired with a sly smile, and my heart stops. He doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s not a professional flirt but he’s aware of his visual power and I think it’s become second nature.
Messes me up every time, though. Every time. What also ruins me is that he wants updates about Eppy. That he takes it so seriously thrills me.
“Tell me the changes you made on it,” he says as we attend another soiree. Toronto’s big film festival is coming in September, and since Fangli’s management wants her to be seen and Sam has a movie premiering at it, we’re on a bit of a circuit.
I hold my gradually warming glass of white wine that I’m forbidden to drink as we stand at a table in the corner taking a quick break from schmoozing. “It’s going well,” I say.
“When do I get to try it?”