Part 16 (1/2)
Her husky, high-pitched voice slithered its way into my ears. ”Honey, anything more I can get you?”
”Hmm...” I didn't want anything else; I only wanted to study ”her.”
She flashed a derisive grin that emphasized her bloodred, full lips, her long-lashed eyes ping-ponging between Lisa and me. ”Let me help you. Hmm...what about some dessert? We have cheesecake, Sacher torte, tiramisu....” She kissed her fingers and made aloud smack; the gloss of her fingernails gave out a few sparks in the faint light. ”So, sweetie”-she turned to me-”what d'you want?”
”Hmm...” I looked at Lisa, then back at the ”waitress,” speechless.
She knelt down, put her elbow on our table, then rested her chin on her hand. She blinked several times as if her eyes were really itchy now. Anxiously, I half expected her lashes to drop into my Cuba libre.
”So, my China doll?” She winked at Lisa, then stared at me. ”You want a minute? I can wait.”
Finally Lisa came to my rescue. ”Give her a chocolate mousse, please.”
”Gotcha.” She wagged a finger at Lisa and chuckled flirtatiously. Her silver hippie earrings trembled like virgin b.r.e.a.s.t.s savagely squeezed.
She pushed herself up, and her leather-wrapped, narrow bottom wriggled away. I noticed a few holes, big and small, in her fishnet stockings.
I felt an army of ants crawling up my spine. ”Lisa, you don't find this place...weird?”
”Oh, no, I'm an artist, Meng Ning. Nothing surprises me.”
”Even men with b.r.e.a.s.t.s who wear dresses and flirt with you?”
”If you look at a thing as it is, it just is. ”
”You like men dressed up like women?”
She squinted at me with a curious expression. ”I thought I'd expand your horizons. You know, Michael won't bring you to a place like this. He's too serious-and too protective of you. I know him well. Sorry, Meng Ning. If you don't like it here, I can take you somewhere else.”
”No, Lisa. I also like expanding my horizons.” It surprised me that suddenly my voice sounded so loud and vehement.
After more drinks and more talk, I began to feel at ease and got into the rhythm of the bar. Waitresses floated between tables like fish in water; men drank, smoked, cracked jokes, turned heads at pa.s.sing b.u.t.tocks, and threw glances at us.
Under the warm light of our table's gilt bra.s.s lamp, Lisa's skin took on a golden sheen, looking almost translucent. I felt her body emit waves of energy toward me. During our conversations, her eyes sometimes focused intently on me and sometimes far in the distance-darting between men in tight jeans, bomber jackets, and cowboy boots. Judging from the few wrinkles making their debut around her eyes, she was like a flower at its ripest moment of perfection, which was also perilously close to wilting.
Lisa turned back to look at me. ”You know, Meng Ning, I'm actually part Chinese. My grandfather was a missionary and met my grandmother in Shanghai. My mother spent her childhood there.”
Now Lisa's eyes were unreadable, like a cat's. ”I never lived in China, but Mom used to tell me strange tales about her life there.”
”Tell me her tales.”
She made a face. ”OK, but don't blame me if they're too weird.”
”Go ahead.” I took a big gulp of my Cuba libre.
”One time her parents took her to a zoo where she saw a man talking to a flower-”
”That's not very strange-”
”Meng Ning, there're more to the story; would you let me finish?” Lisa feigned annoyance, then continued. ”The man was a street performer. He told the audience that every day he had to feed and wash the flower like a person. Just when he was about to demonstrate how, the flower opened up to reveal a pretty girl's head-”
”Oh.”
”While everyone was exclaiming in wonder, the man stuck a lighted cigarette in her mouth. The girl's head started to smoke, blowing out clouds of smoke in circles, triangles, squares, even a heart. After that, she went on to perform other tricks, like singing, eating, and making funny faces. Of course everybody tried to look and see whether she was hiding her body somewhere. But all they could see under her head was a stem.”
Mesmerized, I asked, ”Is this true?”
She shrugged. ”So I was told by my mother.”
”What other things did she tell you?”
”She also saw a baby's head with a dog's body. It could perform all kinds of tricks, like somersaulting, walking on two legs, chasing his own tail-”
”Oh, no! Lisa, your mother must have made this up.”
”No, she didn't. But...it's a horrible story.”
”What is it? Tell me.”
”The dog was skinned alive and right afterwards, its skin was wrapped onto the newborn baby until the two grew together.”
”Yuck, that's really sick....”
”I told you it was horrible.”
”These stories are true?”
”What do you think?” She winked.
A pause before we both burst out laughing.
A long silence fell between us, then Lisa took out a pack of cigarettes, shook one out, tapped it on the pack, and handed it to me.
”No, Lisa, I don't smoke.”
”Have you ever?”
”No.”
”It doesn't hurt to try.”
”No thanks.”
”All right then.” She lit the cigarette, slid it between her lips with a slick movement of her hand, then took a deep drag. She released a mouthful of smoke, her lips still in the shape of a perfect O-or a chicken's a.s.s, as my mother would say; or a Zen circle, as Yi Kong would.
My eyes were smarting from the smoke.