Hayley's Party Chapter One
Part A
"Tonight's the night...".
Please note this is Part A of a 3 part Chapter. The pace is fairly slow and there's no actual sex, although there is some foreplay. It very much sets the scene for Parts B and C though. I've split it into three parts because during the rewrite, it just got too long (it grew from 10k words to 45k words). There's a lot more background on Hayley here and it's rather different from the original Chapter One. Hope you enjoy... Chloe"
*****
"Ooh baby don't you hesitate cause
Tonight's the night
It's gonna be alright..."
The Emerald Garden Restaurant wasn't the only Chinese restaurant in town but it was the only one in town for dim sum if you were Chinese, Asian, or liked good dim sum. It wasn't bad. In fact, it was almost as good as dim sum in San Francisco where my cousins lived. The manager, Freddie Weng, was from Hong Kong via London (in the UK, that is, he'd immigrated to the US a long time ago). He'd imported his chef, Lǎo Zhū, from Taiwan. Old Zhū was good! I loved dim sum at the Emerald Garden.
I knew why Dad wanted to be there early, he'd invited some new clients along for brunch before they got down to business for the rest of the day. Some kind of hassle with a company sale or something from what he'd mentioned in passing! My Dad's an accountant, and a really good one. He used to work for one of the big international accounting firms in San Francisco before he decided to go for the quiet life and set up his own company out here well away from the big city. He did that back when I was a baby so I don't remember anything about that. But after visiting my cousins in San Francisco not too long ago, I could see why Dad wanted to leave!
Despite the move, Dad had old clients flying in to see him all the time. They came in from San Francsico, Hong Kong, China and South East Asia. Mostly Chinese but there were the odd gweilo clients as well. He had local clients as well, but that was more because he liked the town we lived in. My Dad did a lot of travelling. He was always flying out to visit those Chinese clients of his when they weren't flying in. They seemed pretty demanding. I'd met the odd client or group of clients at Dim Sum, Chinese businessmen mostly. Not like my Dad's local American clients at all.
Those Chinese guys were always nice to me though, more often than not they brought gifts along for me. I had a beautiful collection of Chinese designer label stuff - Uma Wang, Zhang Da, Qiu Hao, Nicole Zhang, Helen Lee. Anyhow, it sounded like this gweilo client Dad was meeting with today had a few problems with a company sale or transfer or something. Whatever! The technicalities were beyond me, although I do help my Dad with the routine bookkeeping stuff for his local clients. That's my part-time job when I'm not doing anything else, book keeping for my Dad, which I only mention now because it comes into this story a little later and I was talking about my Dad's business.
We walked into the Emerald Garden which, as always by ten in the morning on a weekend or a holiday, was getting just a bit full. The eternal quest by the local Asian population (and those gweilo's in the know) for good dim sum was in full swing. Old Freddie Weng (as opposed to his son, Young Freddie) saw us, beckoned to Dad, then waved us past the queue straight to a table. Needless to say, he was another client of my Dad's. The queue jumping always gets you a few looks. Disgruntled from the gweilo's; greetings from the Chinese we knew (all of them, there are just not that many Chinese or even Asians in general where I live, we all know each other).
Another aside: for Chinese, queue jumping is quite different than it is for gweilo's. If it happens, it's usually because of Guanxi. Connections. You owe someone a favor or they owe you. Or you do it because of respect for them or for someone they're connected with or maybe some other similar factor. It's pretty complicated but that's pretty much how it works, even for us second, third and fourth generation Chinese. Chinese understand it and know what's happening when you see queue jumping like that. Gweilo's, not so much but whatever, it's a Chinese thing. We all understand Guanxi in all its permutations and nobody, not even us third generation ABC's, bitches about it. Much!
My Dad's clients turned up a few minutes after we were seated. Dad saw them as they walked in. He stood up and waved, calling out loudly.
"Willie ... Hey Willie ... Over here."
I looked up to see a tall solid-looking white-haired gentleman who seemed to be in his late seventies waving back. He was with a slimly elegant old lady. They stopped and chatted with Freddie Weng though, smiling and shaking hands. The old lady hugged him for a long time before Freddie himself escorted them to our table. Now THAT was unusual, Freddie didn't normally hug people. He also usually left it to the two girls who worked the reception stand to take guests to their table. Although with my Dad's clients coming in from out of town he often made an exception to that rule.
One of the many nice things about Chinese restaurants is that they're not quiet and boring like gweilo restaurants. They're also not slummy like a lot of fast food outlets. They're family restaurants and they're noisy. Kids are welcome. They're crowded, with the tables packed close together. Everyone talks at the top of their voices. People call out to friends or to the waiters and waitresses. The staff yell at each other. Dishes get slammed on the table, the china gets slapped down fast and hard and not particularly carefully. When a table is vacated its crash crash crash as the dishes and utensils get cleared away, the tablecloth is whisked off, the table wiped down and everything gets reset for the next occupants in double quick time. It's almost deafening at times. If you're a gweilo and you haven't experienced it before it can be a bit of a culture shock.
That didn't seem to be the case with Dad's clients. Freddie led them through the throng down the aisle towards our table. Up close, Willie was even taller than I'd thought, well over 6 feet, solidly built and fit-looking with a smile that somehow came across as cheeky, if you can picture a guy of his advanced age as cheeky. He moved far more athletically than I would have expected for an old guy. His lady companion moved in much the same way, slim and exquisite as a ballet dancer. A rather elderly ballet dancer though. We all did the introduction thing as we sorted out seats. My Dad introduced Mom and me, following which Willie did the honors.
"Mrs. Chu, Hayley, I'm Willie Smith, my friend Modesty Burns."
Ms. Burns smiled at us. Although she seemed a very sweet old lady, there was something about her that intrigued me a little as she took the seat next to me. She radiated assurance, a calm confident grace that somehow reminded me of my equally elderly Tae Kwon Do instructor, Master Kim. Without even speaking she inspired respect. I found myself stiffening and bowing my head slightly as she looked at me. She smiled, inclining hers a little less. That was interesting, that she'd picked up on what a gweilo normally would never have noticed, let alone responded to.
"Please Hayley, do call me Modesty."
Her voice was gentle and clear with a slight English accent, the voice of someone twenty or thirty years younger. She and Willie ("call me Willie, Hayley, please, anything else makes me feel my real age...") started talking with my Mom and Dad. That left me alone to eat. I was hungry so I took charge of ordering dishes right away while the adults talked. Business issue? I ignored it. Boring!
Now if you're not used to it, the cacophony and sensory overload of dim sum can be overwhelming. So many moving carts! So many impatient servers asking you whether you want their dishes or not before you even know what they have to offer! The ever-present question gweilo's have of wait, is that pork, or shrimp, or some weird animal part that I'd kill myself rather than eat? If you're not Chinese and you haven't grown up with it you need the acumen of a Wall Street trader to make the right choices. I always told my gweilo friends that your best strategy is probably just to close your eyes and point unless you're lucky enough to grow up with a good friend such as myself (hint hint) who's an initiate of the fast-paced cult of dim sum.
Our elderly guests both displayed a great deal of familiarity with dim sum, and with chopsticks, so I kind of assumed they'd lived somewhere where they'd eaten it before. Hong Kong maybe? Their accents hinted at that possibility. Willie's definitely sounded English. Ms. Burns sounded almost English but was a little harder to place. She did chat with me a little as Willie and Dad got engrossed in whatever it was that was causing problems. I told her about growing up here, the kind of things we did, High School, going hiking in the mountains, camping, shooting, my martial arts school, my friends, all that stuff. Ms. Burns displayed rather more interest in Tae Kwon Do and Hapkido than I thought she would when I mentioned it in passing.
She glanced at Willie, then back towards me. "So you train in Tae Kwon Do, Hayley?"
I saw Willie turn, he was listening to.
"Yes Ms. Burns, and Hapkido." Calling her Modesty just seemed so disrespectful, not just because of her age. "I've been training in Tae Kwon Do since I was five, Hapkido for the last six years. I'm going to grade for my Black Belt in a few months, when Master Kim thinks I'm ready."
"Which style do you train in? Kukkiwon?" She was really interested.
Willie grinned at me. That grin looked way younger than he did. "I always preferred Gwon Gyoko myself."
Modesty laughed. "That's your Muay Thai background still coming through after all these years Willie. Now don't interrupt Hayley." She smiled at me. "When I first met Willie, he was competing professionally in Muay Thai fights."
Willie chuckled. "Okay okay Modesty. Ignore me Hayley, go on."