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Dogged Ma; chapter nine, part three

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Chapter Nine; Part Three

“Delivery for Margaret Wang.”

“I’ll be right there.”  Another one?  Who could it be this time?  I went downstairs and peeked outside, seeing a delivery guy with a bouquet of fiery orange and red roses.  The colors of the roses were so pure, they almost hurt my eyes.

“Here you go,” the delivery guy said, thrusting the enormous bouquet into my waiting arms.  I rushed upstairs, eager to find out who’d sent me such a beautiful arrangement.  I hunted for the card before finally finding it.  In beautiful penmanship, someone had inscribed, ‘Margaret Marilyn, you are mine.  Morningstar.’  They were from Lucifer!  I should throw them away.  They were, without a doubt, the most breathtaking roses I’d ever seen, and I didn’t even care for roses.  I walked slowly into the kitchen trying to decide what to do.  In the end, I rationalized that it couldn’t hurt to keep them.  They would die in a few days, anyway, wouldn’t they?  Suddenly, I wasn’t sure they were real flowers.  I mean, Lucifer could have had them specially made if he wanted.  I arranged them, anyway, and brought them into the living room where I set the vase besides the orchids from Alan.  The two bouquets looked great side-by-side; I could get used to being treated like a queen.  Too bad neither bunch was from the guy I was actually trying to date.

I needed to do something about Lucifer.  He was stepping up his campaign, and I wasn’t sure how long I’d be able to hold out against him.  I called Wind who answered on the third ring.  Seems I had disturbed her during her meditation time for which I profusely apologized.  When I explained what I wanted, however, she agreed to come over and see what she could do.  She didn’t sound as confident as I would have liked given that Li Ling had practically promised that Wind could take care of the problem, but I let it go.  I thought about calling my mother again, but I resisted.  She had to make the first overture.  I flicked on the television to watch something until Wind came.  It was a welcome respite from thinking.  I was so engrossed in the Iron Chefs that the buzzer startled me when it sounded forty-five minutes later.

“Wind?”  I asked before buzzing her up.  I hugged her gratefully after she breezed into my apartment.  She was in a simple gauzy skirt and t-shirt, no accessories or makeup.

“Time for the big guns, I guess,” Wind said briskly, lugging her over-sized bag inside.  She stopped as she noticed the flowers on my coffee table.  “Please tell me those are from Ted because you had a really great date.”

“We did have a great date,” I said, motioning her in.  “However, the orchids are from Alan and the roses are from….”  I hesitated because I knew how she felt about me consorting with the devil.  “Lucifer.”

“The devil?  He sent you flowers?”  Wind shrieked, causing me to wince.  I had sensitive ears, and she had a booming voice when she so chose.  “You have to get rid of them.”  Before I could stop her, she grabbed the flowers, strode over to the window and flung them out.

“Hey!  What did you do that for?”  I protested, rushing over to the window.  There were my beautiful roses, lying on the ground.  Before anybody could step on them, however, they slowly started rising in the air until they were right outside my window.  The funny thing was that nobody paid the slightest attention to the floating flowers.

“Don’t touch those,” Wind shouted, struggling to get me away from the window.  “What good will it do for me to seal the portal if you allow those roses in your apartment?”  I must have looked confused because she expanded.  “As long as you keep something of the devil’s in your apartment, he will always be afforded access.  You must cleanse your apartment from his presence, down to the last flower.”  She was so engrossed in her lecturing, she didn’t notice the roses tossing themselves through my window and back into their vase.  When she saw them sitting as pretty as you please on the coffee table, she made a sound of disgust in the back of her throat.  “It appears that you have to throw them out if we want to be rid of them for good.”  But did I?

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Dogged Ma; chapter nine, part two

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Chapter Nine; Part Two

I settled back to watch the movie, enjoying being with ‘my people’.  Oh, I knew that was more fantasy than reality, but it was nice to be surrounded by Asians.  Even better, people had no compunctions about yelling things at the screen, so it was more of an interactive experience than if we’d gone to an American cinema.  I booed lustily every time a bad guy came on screen, and I whistled with enthusiasm for my girl, Michelle Yeoh.  When Donnie Yen tried to put the moves on her after realizing who she was, well, I almost lost it then and there.  The two of them were favorites of mine, and so damned good-looking.  The only thing that would make it even better would be if Tony Leung Chiu Wai were in the movie as well.  Maggie Cheung, too.  Oh, and Jet Li, of course.  That would be a dream come true.

“Wow, she’s really good,” Ted commented, whistling through his fingers as Michelle executed yet another complicated maneuver.  We enjoyed the rest of the movie in a very vocal manner.

“What’s the second movie?”  I asked, stretching at the end of the first.  I was fading slightly, but I knew I’d perk up for something good.

“Irma Vep,” Ted said, glancing at the paper in his hand.  It was a poster for the evening, but I didn’t know where he had gotten it.  “Maggie Cheung is hot in black leather.”

“Yeah, but I don’t like the flashing lights.”  I shrugged.  “It’s up to you.  We have to at least go to the concessions so Tamara can make her move.”  Ted laughed and playfully socked me in the arm.  We grabbed our jackets from our seats so they wouldn’t be stolen.  Ted grabbed my hand and marched me into the lobby.  I saw the two girls who’d been dissing me in the bathroom standing in line for popcorn.  I nudged Ted in the side and nodded at the girls.  He hesitated before taking me over to the line and standing a few people behind them.  He radiated so much personality, I was surprised the people in front of him didn’t get singed.  He pulled me closer to him as the two girls turned; I was meanly glad to see the expression on their faces when he draped his arm around my shoulders.  I snuggled against his chest, tilting my head up so I could look seductively at him.  That was enough to spur Tamara to walk over to us.

“Teddy!  It’s so good to see you!”  Tamara squealed, nudging me out of the way.  Even though she was ninety-five pounds soaking wet, she packed a mean elbow.  I moved to the side so I could enjoy the show.  The other girl was watching, too, as well as a half dozen other people.  Tamara raised on her tiptoes so she could plant a wet one on Ted’s lips.  He pulled back quickly, smiling down as he did.  I stifled a laugh at the sight of red lipstick smeared across his lips.  “Oops, I marked you.”  Tamara used her finger to rub sensuously against Ted’s lips.  By the looks of the erection building in his pants, he wasn’t totally adverse to her charms.  Like a snake honed in on its prey, Tamara noticed Ted’s reaction as well.

“Tamara.  It’s been a while.”  Ted held his arms slightly in front of his body to protect himself from Tamara’s advances.  I suppose if I were a good person, I would extricate him from the situation.  However, I was enjoying myself much too much to do that, so I watched Ted suffer without doing a damn thing.  “This is my date, Margaret Wang.  Margaret, this is Tamara Huang.  Her friend is Natalie Wu.”  Two more big-shot families in the Taiwanese community.  Big fucking deal.

“Wang?  Are you related to Andrew Wang?”  Tamara asked sweetly, knowing full well I wasn’t.  Andrew Wang was perhaps the most well-known business man in the Taiwanese community, and I was sure Tamara knew his family history by heart.

“Nope,” I said cheerfully.  “I am related to Peter Wang, however.  Does that count?”  Tamara’s mouth dropped open at the name of a notorious criminal in Taiwan.  He was on their top ten most wanted list and had been for fifteen years.  He was well on his way to becoming an urban legend over there.  “He’s a second cousin once removed or something like that.”

“Oh, how interesting.”  Tamara looked as if she wanted to say something far less banal, but good breeding stopped her.  Of course, she hadn’t display the same taste in the restroom, but she hadn’t realized I was there, either.  She turned back to Ted, subtly blocking me from Ted’s view.  To her shock and my amusement, Ted reached around her and pulled me to him.  I didn’t mind, and it gave me the opportunity to show Tamara my pearly whites.

“Have you seen Lucinda lately?”  Natalie blurted out, earning a dirty look from Tamara.  I understood Tamara’s frustration as it was hard to work somebody over if he were distracted by the name of his former fiancée.

“Nope, not for a while,” Ted said easily, placing his hand on the small of my back.  He began caressing the skin there, much to the discomfort of Tamara and Natalie.  I, however, was becoming turned on.  “Except when I go to my parents’ church, obviously.”

“She misses you a lot,” Natalie continued, seemingly oblivious to the growing ire of the alpha female named Tamara.  I might have to reassess my conclusion that Natalie was the follower because she was sure stomping on Tamara’s toes.  Maybe she was a loyal toady of Lucinda’s and was only hanging out with Tamara because Lucinda wasn’t available.  This was better than any Chinese soap opera, and I didn’t even have to pay to watch it.  I waited to hear what Natalie would say next.  “She cries about you all the time, you know.  She’s even seeing a therapist to understand why she messed up so badly when she was with you.  She’s really trying, Teddy.”

“I’m glad for her,” Ted said politely.  He turned to me and said, “Margaret, do you mind if we skip the second movie?  I have the sudden urge to blow this joint.”

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Dogged Ma; chapter seven, part two

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“Is this Margaret?”  It was definitely Alan.  “It’s Alan.  Look, love, I just got out of the meeting, and I’m on the way to the hotel to change.  My driver tells me I should be there by six, six-fifteen at the latest.  I’m looking forward to seeing you.”

“Me, too,” I echoed, clutching the phone to my ear.  I held it there long after he hung up.  Alan Rickman.  Dinner.  My landline rang again, but I ignored it.  I was not going to let my mother ruin my mood, which she would do in a heartbeat.  I went into the living room and flipped on the television to take my mind off my nerves.  It seemed like forever until my buzzer rang.  I glanced at my watch and saw it was six-fifteen on the dot.  I turned off the television, jumped to my feet and raced to answer it.

“Hello?”

“It’s Alan.  I just made it.”

“I’ll be right down.”  I was touched he actually got out of his car to buzz me when he could have just called me on his cell from the car.  I grabbed my purse and a wrap and flew out the door.  I almost dropped both wrap and purse when I saw Alan looking natty in a black sports coat and slacks with a brilliant blue shirt.

“You look lovely,” Alan said, offering me his arm.

“You look very handsome as well,” I replied sedately.  What I wanted to do was drag him upstairs and have my way with him.  I didn’t, however, and contented myself with stealing sideline glances at Alan who looked so damn hot.  The car, which was a black Cadillac, looked great, too.  I was glad it wasn’t a limo; I found them to be too pretentious.  Alan ignored the driver who was standing by the back door and ushered me into the car.  He went around to the other side and settled in besides me.  A feeling of unreality crept over me as I sat next to my favorite actor.  I gathered my thoughts so I could add something to the conversation.

“So, what play would you be doing for the Guthrie next season, or shouldn’t I ask?  Wait, don’t tell me, all I really want to know is if you get the girl in the end.”  I cringed at my flippant tone, but it was how I dealt with uncomfortable situations.

“Yes, I would get the girl in the end,” Alan said, a slight smile on his face.  “Why is that so important to you?”

Thus emboldened, I plunged into a narrative of how I felt it a shame that British actors were used primarily as villains unless they were stereotypically hot such as Jude Law or Kate Winslet.  I went on to say how much I preferred foreign films because the actors were usually people who looked like normal people, albeit good-looking normal people.  They were people I could meet at a pub, perhaps taking home for the night.  When I watched American actors, I could only see them for who they really were.  Actors.  Grossly overpaid actors.  Some who couldn’t even act and were liked more for their looks than their abilities.  In addition, American actors were so overexposed, it was difficult to get past their images.

“But I ramble,” I said, screeching to a halt.  Alan had been scrutinizing me as I talked, making me feel as if what I had to say was of the utmost importance.  “I tend to do that when I get heated.”  I wished I could take back that last word as it gave the sentence a double meaning, but Alan chose to respond to my surface statement.

“It’s a good thing, I think, the ability to care deeply.  It’s also rather refreshing to talk to someone who cares more about substance than the glitz and glamour of Hollywood.”

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Dogged Ma; chapter seven, part one

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Dogged Ma: Chapter Seven, Part One

“Mom, I’m telling you the truth.  I was never engaged to Ned.”  It was Wednesday afternoon, and I had just arrived home from work.  My mother must have a sixth sense about these sort of things because she always managed to call me the minute I walked in the door.  Of course, she refused to call me on my cell phone because she didn’t want to distract me from driving.  Besides, she didn’t trust that my cell wouldn’t give me brain cancer.  As a result, I had to rush to get the phone the minute I entered my place.  As usual, I ended up wishing I had let the machine get it as my mother was venting her spleen about my supposed broken engagement.

“Mom, would I lie to you?  I mean, out and out lie?”  I infused my voice with as much indignation as I could muster, but it didn’t slow down that train.  She berated me at the top of her lungs for making her the shame of the entire Taiwanese community.  She told me she couldn’t even go to church on Sunday without everybody talking about her.  She knew they were talking about her because they would suddenly hush up whenever she was around.  And poor Pastor Wu!  Did I even think about what I’d put him through?  I had no idea what my supposed engagement had to do with her pastor, but I couldn’t get a word in edgewise.  It turned out that the ‘close friends’ of Mr. and Mrs. Chang couldn’t wait to spread the word about how abominably I’d acted Saturday night.  When they found out I broke off the engagement, well, they had a field day with that bit of information.

“Mom, I never was engaged to Ned,” I interrupted, feeling more frustrated by the minute.  If I told her the truth, I’d have to suffer through a diatribe about ‘homosexuals’, but I didn’t know if it’d be any worse than the tongue-lashing which I was currently receiving.  “It was a misunderstanding from the very start.  Believe you me, you’d be the very first person I’d tell if I ever did something as stupid as get engaged again.”  That made her switch tracks to how I would never keep myself a man with my negative attitude.  I was tempted to tell her about Ted, but I knew that’d be the kiss of death as far as any hopes of having a normal relationship with Ted was concerned.  Maybe I could mention that plenty of otherworldly beings seemed to want me.  No, that might give her a heart attack.  Just as I was about to make another snarky comment, my buzzer rang.

“Mom, someone’s at the door.  I have to buzz them up.”  It didn’t matter that I had no idea who was downstairs; I would rather face a burglar than my mother when she went into full wrath mode.  God could take a few lessons from her.  More squawking from the phone, and my buzzer rang again.  “I gotta go.  I’ll call you back.”  I hung up the phone and pressed my intercom lever.  “Hello?”  I wasn’t totally stupid.  I’d ascertain who it was before doing anything as rash as letting him/her up.  Now that I was off the phone, it didn’t really matter who was on the other side.

“Hello?  Sorry to bother, but I’m afraid I’ve been given a wrong address.”  The voice was definitely masculine, but it was diffident in tone.  British in pronunciation, and there was something very familiar about the voice.  Something about the way he pronounced ‘address’.  Suddenly, it hit me.

“You’re Alan Rickman.”  Instantly, my stomach went aflutter.  Alan Rickman was downstairs, talking to me.  I was glad I hadn’t changed out of my black skirt and blouse.  I scolded myself for thinking of such trivial thoughts when I had Alan Rickman on the other end of the intercom.

“Yes, I am.  If you could just give me directions to the Guthrie, I’d be ever so grateful.”

“Hold on.  I’ll be right down.”  I let go of the lever and grabbed my purse before flying out the door.  I could hear the phone ringing as I locked my door, but I ignored it.  I knew it would be my mother, and I had much more important things with which to deal.  When I reached the ground floor of my apartment, I saw Alan Rickman waiting patiently outside the door.  He was wearing black slacks and a white button-down, looking damn good.

“Hi, I’m Margaret Wang.”  I stuck out my hand, and he shook it with alacrity.  “You’re Alan Rickman.”  I was aware that I sounded like an idiot, but it wasn’t every day that I got to meet Alan Rickman in the flesh.  Speaking of the flesh, he looked much better in person than on camera, if that were even possible.

“Yes, I am,” Alan said, smiling affably.  “Look, I hate to be a bother, but I’ve got an appointment with the director of the Guthrie in—”  He checked his watch.  “Twenty minutes.  I would hate to be late.  The worst thing is that my driver took off before I could figure out where I was.  It must be a conspiracy to make me late for my meeting.”

“I can take you there if you’d like,” I said, holding my breath.  “It’s not very far.”

“That would be fantastic,” Alan said, looking relieved.  “I can’t figure out for the life of me how my agent screwed things up so badly.  Wait until I get a hold of her.”  He was smiling as he spoke, his demeanor belying his words.

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