Yes, the prospect of free stuff was an enticement, true; but in this case, it was the refreshing, brazen flattery that buoyed Ander most. If it were faux, hyperbolic, it was still better than the company of Lady Zhao â his sole company for the last week â whom it seemed could not physically conjure complimentary â often just plain positive â words without suffering pain, looking like you had tortured a confession out of her.
What sealed the deal, however, was the absurd fantasy that crossed Ander's mind out of nowhere, that struck him as not just possible but probable â that he might meet the owner, the father, get chatting about business acumen, and impress him with bold ideas and his long list of academic qualifications. It was Ander's chance to get hired on the spot, be tasked with drawing up USA expansion plans â all he would have to do is talk confidently and possibly date a rather unappealing woman for a while, to then ditch her when he was operationally indispensible. He had thought of all this within twenty minutes of meeting this odd pair.
Thus the second easily avoidable error of the night was to say yes and head off with Gra and her inappropriately named cousin Little Maw. Lady Zhao had asked Ander to be back early because of their start the next day, their trip to Dar-For Mountain, but she hadn't really consulted him, she had made the decision in isolation in her own unreachable mind. If he wasn't feeling so well, if he was back too late, it was reason to not go.
The last clear thing Ander could remember between leaving Zha-Zha where Spring was and his pseudo-resurrection by the potted-palm was getting out of a taxi (having been aggressively fondled) and thinking the karaoke joint looked more like a youth hostel than the glittering duplexes of self-entertainment he was more familiar with in Asia. Even better, then, for his hip familiarity with the American market.
A karaoke venue it surely was, nicotine saturated, analog-TV furnished, rooms small and padded and strewn with pictures of Terresa Teng everywhere. At one point, Ander sang California Dreamin; at one point he had a pitcher of rum punch in his hands. On his walk back to Shaanxi Road, he confirmed in his mind that this was the poisoned drink that even had retroactive effects. At one point, Ander had flicked his stupid Panama hat across the room only to have it somehow boomerang back to his head. Alas, if a life-changing business venture had been negotiated, Ander couldn't remember it.
Bythe time he arrived at Lady Zhao's apartment, it was nearly five a.m. He foundher, unexpectedly, sleeping up against the door, a double chin forming on herusually crinkle-free neck. He kicked her gently in the thigh, then moanedsomething about needing to throw up again.