Ghosts of Chinatown (11 page)

Angela shows a Chinese newspaper clipping to Cam. There are two photos: one of Todd, the other of a battered Jasmine.
 

“Isn’t that him?”

“Sure looks like Piano Man. What’s it say?”

“Damned if I know. Chinese just isn’t very big in Alabama. How did you get this paper?”

“He had it hidden in his backpack.”

Todd screams but again, there’s no recognition from Cam and Angela about his existence. “I did not have it hidden in my backpack. I’ve never even seen these photos.”

Angela stares hard. “Who is she?”

“Why, you interested?”

“I’m not that kinda girl but you sure strike me that you are that kinda man. She’s pretty damn hot if you’re into S and M.”

“Oh, you’re a nasty bitch. Hey, Harlan, what’s this say?”

The husky Chinese waiter comes over and scans the paper.

“Man oh man. It says that Piano Man is a very bad boy. He beat this actress to death at the Double Stars Theater in Beijing. Disappeared without a trace. Asshole.”

Cam pokes Harlan in his enormous gut. “You’re no angel.”

“I only wasted pervs and deviants. I’m a defender of the public.”

Cam pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek and jabs it with his index finger. “You guys never want to admit anything.”

Todd shrieks at the group. “I didn’t do it. I didn’t do it. Jasmine was alive when I left.”

There’s an abrupt change in the room. Hyper-reality disappears and life is “normal” again.

Previously ignored, Todd’s presence is very much felt. The muscle-bound Harlan sees Todd and lifts him up over the table. “Hey, man, cool your jets. This is not the establishment to have wacko attacko.”

Harlan drops Todd onto the floor. Todd looks up to the table but Cam and Angela are gone. He stands and grabs Harlan.

“Where’d they go?”

“Where did who go?”

“Angela and Cam. They were sitting at this table.”

“Yeah, right.”

Todd lets go of Harlan. He searches under the table, scans the room, goes behind the bar, but there is no sign of Cam or Angela.

Desperation of an incomprehensible intensity comes through loud and clear although he’s barely whispering.

“Do you know what it’s like to be haunted, knowing you’ve done something wrong? I dream dreams, I see visions. Things I can never forget. Things I wish that I never knew.”
 

Harlan comes over, disdain for Todd running amok.

“Hey, man, I’m running a business. Cut the crap. Now order something or get lost. Wasted enough time on you already.”
 

Todd grabs Harlan’s shirt lapels and shakes him. “Where did Cam and Angela go?

“Okay, enough’s enough. We’re done.”

Harlan rips Todd’s hands off his shirt, knocking him down into the chair and onto the floor. “Go home, get some sleep. Sober up. Comprendes, amigo?”

“No, I do not comprendez because I’m not drunk.”

“Then you’re a druggie and I hate those guys even worse.”

Harlan picks him and throws him out the door. “Welcome to Chinatown.”

Todd turns around and looks inside the Ho Inn. Cam and Angela are sitting at the table in friendly conversation as Harlan serves them drinks.

He balls his fists and scampers off.

Chapter 20

I love two men. One from my home, one from my heart. Neither understands the other and I don’t know what to believe. My father has always protected me and has never been wrong. Todd, I just don’t know, but he has affected me in a way that is more than anyone I have ever known… I can’t believe that he would hurt me.

These thoughts conflict Jasmine as she treads around the debris in the dark alley leading to the Rialto Theater. Arriving at the stage entrance, she knocks on the door—it’s a reflex. She doesn’t have to knock but does.
 

Nadir, the security guard, opens the heavy metal entrance. “No visitors.” However, he doesn’t see anyone and steps outside. Puzzled eyes sweep the area. “Hello, who’s there?”

But he does not see anybody there.

Jasmine blows directly past him into the building.

“Bloody kids.” He shakes his head, goes back into the building and shuts the door.
 

***

In this dressing room is a long mirror lined with lights with counter space for chairs for seven actors and their make-up artists. It’s empty now save for Vicky. Even though she’s as sexy gorgeous as she was five years ago, there’s something about her that’s a little edgier, a little harder. Clad in a bathrobe, Vicky looks in the mirror as she removes her make-up. She wears a locket around her neck identical to the one that Todd wears. She hears a voice that is vaguely familiar but not quite recognizable.

“Hello, Vicky.”
 

Vicky continues taking off the make-up without turning to the voice. She haughtily replies, “I don’t appreciate visitors. How did you get backstage through security?”

“I don’t need anyone’s approval.”

“How dare you?”

Vicky whips around and is petrified to see Jasmine standing there. Her face flashes tension in the mirror as she sees her reflection—but not Jasmine’s.

“Jasmine! What... how...”

Vicky sprints to the door but it is locked. She quickly hides the locket under her robe.

Jasmine’s voice is full of sadness. “You don’t need to run, Vicky. I won’t hurt you. You can relax.”

Vicky does not believe Jasmine but has no choice but to respond to her old playmate.

“Hello, Jasmine. It’s been awhile.”

This conversation between ghost and living is so foreign to Westerners as to be unbelievable but to Chinese, it is normal as breathing. The spirit world is not “out there” but co-exists with the natural. Death is a different state; it is not the end.

“Maybe not long enough or maybe too long. Actually, I didn’t think I would ever see you again. But I need to know something and I think you know the answer.”

“Of course. Anything. Ask away.”
 

Jasmine speaks slowly and deliberately. “Did you kill me?

Vicky backs up to the wall, flushing with alarm. “Is that why you’re here? Who would say anything like that?”

“Todd. He thinks it might be you that did it.”

Vicky breathes a little easier. “You trust what Todd tells you? After what he did to you? Jasmine, when Catherine found you, you were already dead.”

Vicky enters onto the Xing-xing stage, coughing through the smoke. “Jasmine, I’m here. Jasmine. We can start rehearsing now.”

She hears someone sobbing. “Hello. Jasmine.”

“She’s dead,” wails a voice.

“Stop playing games, Jasmine.”

“It’s Catherine and I’m not playing games.”

Vicky fights her way to the direction of the voice and sees Jasmine lying down with
 

Catherine crouching beside her.

“What do we do, Vicky?”
 

Vicky leans over Jasmine, whose eyes are wide open with the look of the dead. “I don’t know.” She speaks tenderly. “Jasmine... Jasmine...”

No answer. She turns to Catherine. “What happened?”

“I, I... Todd was rushing out as I was coming to visit. He was like a madman and pushed me down and wouldn’t stop for anything. He must have done it.”

“We were supposed to rehearse but when Jasmine told me Todd was coming, I came late so I wouldn’t have to see him. If I came when I was supposed to, maybe she’d still be alive.”

Catherine trembles as Vicky puts her hands on Jasmine’s face, sliding them down to her neck, fondling her locket.
 

“But why? Jasmine, why did this have to happen?”
 

“Maybe she told him.”

“You think so? She was worried about what Todd might think.”

“She must have. Men are like that. That’s why he did it.”
 

Vicky holds Jasmine’s hand. “It’s still warm. Maybe it’s not too late for a miracle. Doctors can revive people sometimes. Go. Now. Run. Get help.”

“Okay.”

Catherine darts off the stage.
 

Vicky leans over Jasmine and whispers. “Jasmine, can you hear me? Do you know what I’m saying? It’s Vicky, Jasmine. I’m here for you.”

In the dressing room, Jasmine confronts a distressed but still calculating Vicky.
 

“You’re lying, Vicky. You knew that you would never get the part as long as I was alive.”

“Jasmine, you never had a chance against me.”

“I was the top student, I knew the role better than anyone, I went to the point of death to prepare.”

Vicky relaxes, realizing Jasmine really will not or cannot hurt her. Her mojo is back.

“You are so naive, Jasmine. You never had a chance. There is one thing that I have always played better than you.”

“What’s that?”
 

“Men. I left Todd for Zhou Peng.”
 

“You know he left you for me.”

“Think about it, Jasmine.”

Jasmine ponders and has a sinking realization of another potential truth. “Zhou Peng? The director?”

“Yes. The most powerful man in theater in Beijing. I dumped Todd the moment I met Zhou.”

“My father never directed because he refused to kowtow to him. He always wanted success on his own terms.”

“Exactly. Now you know, Jasmine. You didn’t steal Todd from me, Jasmine. I left for a better opportunity.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“Believe it. How do you think I got here? Do you think that it is so easy for an actress to get out of China? To get invitations to foreign countries?”
 

It’s so true. There are many fantastic, talented and gorgeous Chinese actresses who would do anything to work in Vancouver, Toronto or Hollywood. Vicky and I studied English so hard together to improve our chances. I performed in all those English plays but nothing helped. A Chinese is a Chinese and we could never be a real Maria in Sound of Music or Blanche DuBois in A Streetcar Named Desire.

“But you were going to marry Todd.”

“I was going to marry Todd so I could go to North America. And then he said he wanted to stay in Beijing, that he loved China. That there was no need to go to the United States or Canada. I would never have been able to leave. You remember that, don’t you?”

“Yes… I had the same discussion.”

“And I hope you didn’t forget that you and I both wanted to go to Hollywood, both of us wanted a home in Beverly Hills, both of us wanted to get a star on the Walk of Fame… I never gave up on that dream, Jasmine. That’s why I’m here. I’m not there yet but little by little, I’m getting there.”

Vicky sees Jasmine nodding in agreement and breathes an inward sigh of relief. “It was Todd, Jasmine. He couldn’t face the responsibility. I know men, Jasmine.”
 

“Then why did you flirt with Todd again after you broke up? I was so angry.”

“Insurance.”

“Insurance?”
 

“To distract you, set you off-balance at the audition. Jasmine, you are my best friend but you were also my biggest competition and I always play to win.”

Tears come to Jasmine’s eyes. “I love you and I hate you.”

“That’s the way it has always been with us. Stop trying to fool yourself, Jasmine. It was Todd and no one else. It’s not love blinding you, it’s stupidity.”
 

Both women fighting back tears, Jasmine puts her arms around Vicky.

“Will you help me, Vicky? I don’t know what to do.”

“Of course.” A cunning smile curls onto Vicky’s face.

Chapter 21

Todd walks down the empty corridor to his apartment, trying to convince himself with a show of bravado.
 

It’s time to stop running. Voodoo, hoodoo, bring it on.
 

He opens the door, walks to the couch and sits down. He spots the Bible and there’s an unseen force that makes him opens it to Ecclesiastes, written by King Solomon, the smartest guy who ever lived.

There’s a time to be born and a time to die.

 
He tries to close the book but it refuses to do so and his eyes force themselves further down the page.
God will bring into judgment both the righteous and the wicked, for there will be a time for every activity, a time to judge every deed.

Then the sacred book closes by itself.
 

Well, that’s righteous.
 

With the resignation of a man battling insurmountable odds, he moves to his bedroom. He lies down on the bed and opens the locket on his neck. He stares at the picture of Jasmine on his locket and quietly intones, “Now I know why an innocent man would take his own life.”

He snaps the locket shut and his eyes close. Sleep, the relief of the weary, arrives to his weary bones. Todd, dead to the world, is oblivious to the wavering darkness.

***

Inside the living room, ghostly silhouettes quiver on the walls and piano. A dark, amorphous figure silently opens the door and enters and quietly closes the door.
 

There’s a soft click from somewhere, startling the figure, who freezes against the wall.

***

In the gallery, Liang plays the erhu with his back to the television hanging on the wall. Onscreen is Todd’s living room, where vague shadows waft throughout the ether. The door closes but because Liang faces the other way, he does not see it.

Harlan and Cam suddenly open the door, strut in and sing raucously, “Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer, Take one down and pass it around, ninety-nine bottles of beer.”
 

Cam adds, “And one little bottle of that crazy Chinko elixir, Fen Jiu.”

Harlan pulls out the plain bottle of Chinese overproof spirits.

“What do you say, Liang? A nip for old times sake?”

Liang ignores them and continues playing. It’s a weird confluence of noise between rowdy partygoers and contemplative Asian music.

Cam drunkenly offers, “I believe Mr. Liang is permanently on the wagon. Giddy up, Chinaman!”