Chapter 3

 

 

The moment Rose stepped into the lobby of Sapphire Tower, she realized that it would be a wild and busy Thursday night.

For one thing, half the staff was gone. The flu had flooded a nearby neighborhood, which accounted for some of the biohazard signs lining Rose’s commute to work. The manager apologized. There would be extra work that night, whenever they had the time to tear themselves away from the concierge desk and go on errands that others were supposed to finish.

One saving grace: it was Thursday night, and while those who took three-day weekends treated Thursday as their Fridays, for the most part, it was the dullest night of the week after Sunday. Rose prepared for a few errands and was grateful for wearing flats that day, but beyond that, she treated it like any other day.

She was… somewhat incorrect.

Without the errand boys and girls in attendance that night, they were swamped with petty tasks that kept them away from their desk. Starla volunteered to run most of the errands, doubtlessly to garner the attentions of the rich men living in the building, but this meant Rose was always on the phone and attempting to hear the grievances of residents who got up in her face. I suddenly wish Starla were here… Things were so much easier with one of them on the phone and the other taking care of someone in person. Especially when it was someone like Mrs. Wang, who complained about her neighbor’s yappy dog.

“…I swear I hear that thing barking all night. Do you know that my bedroom mirrors my neighbor’s? Oh, yes, I went online and looked at the floorplans for myself. I know that my apartment is identical to theirs, only mirrored! So that means I have to listen to this lady’s dog screaming all night long! Won’t you do something about it? Fine her. Throw the damn rat out onto the street. I’m tired of losing sleep over it!”

“I’m so sorry to hear that you are having issues with noise, Mrs. Wang.” Rose brought up the details of the unit next to Mrs. Wang’s. No dog, it says, but there is a cat… Was the cat the one “screaming?” Rose never had a cat before. She only interacted with the feral cats and the street felines that sometimes sauntered through her village. Some of them meowed like they had many things to say. Others were as silent as their steps. “I will forward your grievance to the manager for her look over. I’m sure she will get back to you by the end of the weekend.”

“What if I can’t get any sleep before then?”

Starla returned from her most recent excursion. Before she could say hello, however, the phone rang and she hopped to pick it up.

“As I said, Mrs. Wang, the manager will be right with you.” Rose stamped the grievance with Urgent to make Mrs. Wang happy. Yet what the old woman didn’t know was that this was the “fake” stamp. Real emergencies were stamped in red, not black.

It got Mrs. Wang off the concierges’ back, however. Yet Rose wasn’t allowed to take a breather before Starla hung up the phone and announced that there was another errand to run.

“I did the last five,” she said in English, which Rose only half-understood. A sigh covered the desk when Starla realized Rose hadn’t been taking English lessons, after all. “Could you be a dear and take care of this one?” She switched to Mandarin. “You don’t have to go out for it. Run up some take-out when it arrives in a few minutes.”

“Who called it in?”

Starla looked as if she had already forgotten. It took her looking down at her notes to finally say, “Ms. Ling in one of the penthouse suites. I’ve got the number here somewhere.”

“Ms. Ling?”

“Yes? You know, the lesbian?”

The lesbian… That was one impolite way to refer to her, but Starla got like that when she was flustered with work. “All right. Of course. I’ll take up her delivery when it gets here.”

Part of Sapphire Tower’s extra security measures was refusing deliverypeople to personally go up to any resident’s room. After all, one never knew when someone might be casing the joint. Didn’t matter that they had security who patrolled every hall and rode up and down the elevators. Nor did it matter that every residency came equipped with buttons that directly phoned emergency services. There hadn’t been a robbery in the whole year Rose had worked there. Why would there be one because Ms. Ling ordered some Italian food from a restaurant on the other side of Taipei?

Ms. Ling…

Rose went about her business, portraying to the world that she had no desire to see Ms. Ling up close. Nope. Rose didn’t care. It was yet another thing to do at Sapphire Tower. She would use it as a break from the incessant prattling that came to her over the phone and at her desk. This was simply a part of her job description. It meant nothing that, after a year of working behind this desk, she would finally see the enigmatic woman from only a meter away.

She pretended that her throat wasn’t dry when a delivery boy approached the desk and announced he had something for Ms. Cindy Ling.

Although Rose went through the motions of checking him in and documenting the delivery, inside her chest, her heart stopped beating. Her breath forgot how to reach her lungs. Her fingers shook as she handed a slip of paper over for the delivery boy to sign with his restaurant’s name. When it was time to thank him for stopping by, she forgot how to speak.

“Are you all right?” Starla asked. “Should I do it, after all?”

“No need.” Rose snatched the box off the counter and checked her reflection in the computer monitor. “Which penthouse is it, again? Three or four?”

The corner of Starla’s mouth twitched. “Ms. Ling is in #1, of course. She has the premier apartment, don’t you know?”

Of course Rose knew that. Damnit. She shouldn’t have played so dumb. “Right. Number one. I’ll be right back.”

“Make sure you have the penthouse clearance pass.”

Starla called that when Rose was already halfway to the elevators. She had to backtrack and grab a pass out of the bottom locked drawer of the concierge desk. Otherwise, she would find herself stuck outside the penthouse elevator. More levels of security. Of course.

The uniformed guard monitoring the elevators nodded to her and quipped that Starla must be taking a break. Rose didn’t know what to say. She merely flashed a smile and carefully carried the box of Italian food into the lone elevator at the far end, the one tucked around a corner and hidden behind a large fern meant to obstruct who came and went. Rose entered the chip on her pass into the keyhole. Two seconds later, the elevator doors dinged open.

She had never been in this one before.

The other elevators were nice, of course, with a wall of mirrors and classical music humming from the speakers, but the penthouse elevator was all mirrors. A button allowed the operator to choose from classical music, jazz, or traditional Chinese songs.

Lest she succumb to this ascent of madness, Rose picked Classic Chinese Songs.

She didn’t expect to be so moved by Teresa Teng’s “The Moon Represents My Heart.”

It sounded like it always did, whether playing in her family’s car stereo, the old TV in the neighborhood noodle house, or from the precious vinyl record her oldest brother collected. The soft beat, the chiming strings and piano, and the melodious voice that felt like a warm blanket around her heart lulled Rose into an embarrassed smile as she held another woman’s dinner in her hands. Nobody sings like Teresa… Rose would know. She had spent most of her adolescence attempting to recreate that hopeful tone with her own voice, but it turned out that knowing how to carry a tune and enunciate her tones wasn’t enough to transform her into Teresa Teng, Queen of Mandarin Love Songs. My grandmother used to play her cassettes every afternoon as I lay down for my nap. That was how the love affair with Teresa began. It only grew more intense when Rose swapped to the choir club at school, where they often fought over her songs or The Beatles. For every “The Moon Represents My heart,” there was a “Yesterday.”

“Nothing more than your soft kiss is enough to move this heart…” Rose closed her eyes and mouthed along at first, before her own voice crescendoed into a sweet peak that echoed in the wide elevator. The doors dinged open as the song faded into the background.

Back to work. Back to this strange life she lived.

I wonder if I could get a job singing old Chinese love songs in the elevator. Rose referenced a map of the building on her phone to find Cindy Ling’s penthouse suite. Maybe I could sing for her… Teresa had sung for many would-be lovers in her relatively short life. Rose was just old enough to remember the famous singer’s death in 1995, when all of Taiwan fell into a state of mourning. Maybe that was why she was so consequential in Rose’s taste of music.

Thinking about singing was enough to help Rose forget the nerves coming apart in her body. She had approached Cindy’s door without realizing it, after all, and Rose now confronted what it meant to live in the premier penthouse in Sapphire Tower.

First of all, it meant a grandiose door that set itself apart from the other few on the top floor. Instead of the ebony trimming and silver number adorning the door, Cindy’s door was trimmed in bright, luminous gold. The number was likewise a rich yellow hue that supposedly brought further good luck to the occupant. A simple Chinese character was offset to the side on the wall. “Ling.” Out of every definition Rose could pluck from her memory, she set aside the most likely one – to rise, to ascend, to override – and instead thought of ice.

Because every time she thought of Cindy, she got a chill.

Rose rang the bell and announced herself, not that anyone ever heard her through their doors. Nevertheless, mere seven seconds later, the door swung open, and Rose ascertained the meaning of cold and breathless as ice.

“Good evening.” The woman standing before Rose was more beautiful than usual. Gone were the pantsuits and dresses. Behold, a sweater and jeans. Rose didn’t know it was possible to cut a pair of jeans like that. I knew she had gorgeous legs, but I can’t stand it! How did she look away without drawing attention to what she found so bold? So worthy of praise? And, good Lord, that heavy white cardigan was the stuff of Rose’s fondest fantasies. Unbuttoning it and taking it off her would be like unwrapping the sweetest present… If there was ever a moment for Rose to face her own truth, it was now, when she never felt so damn gay. “Is that my supper?”

Rose didn’t register Cindy’s words until a moment later, when it hit her like a concoction of shame and guilt barreling down her esophagus. “Oh… oh!” She snapped out of her damned reverie and apologized for making such a faux pas before the most important tenant in Sapphire Tower. Only then did Rose acknowledge how high up she was. I can see Elephant Mountain from right here… God, what a view!

“Come in, would you?” Cindy waved Rose into the apartment. With a swift pivot of her heel, Cindy was gone around the corner, and Rose was left standing in the doorway with Italian food in her hand. “I have something for the front desk for you to take back down!”

That echoing cry over Cindy’s shoulder was what hustled Rose inside, careful to close the door behind her. She removed her shoes before stepping up into the short hallway lined with bamboo floors and live orchids spiraling up the walls. This late at night, the white walls and golden chandeliers lent to a lively if not cheerful disposition for one woman’s palatial penthouse. To Rose, anyway, this was a damn palace for one woman to occupy. All but two of the penthouses have at least three bedrooms, as well as an office or the option to convert part of the living room into a mother-in-law suite. Even if Cindy were the CEO of her family’s company, what made her need so many rooms and space? Most of the occupants were families at least three people strong. Some operated businesses out of their homes.

Rose didn’t see much evidence that Cindy did much living in this clean abode. The cream-colored living room set was as clean as the day she must have purchased it. The TV was off. A ceiling fan churned high above, but as Rose meandered through the living room and stepped into the large chef’s kitchen, she couldn’t help but wonder how much time Cindy spent in her own apartment.

The kitchen was spotless. The sink, which held one empty cereal bowl, was clean enough to lick. She doesn’t cook… Of course not. Why would she? Cindy could afford to eat out or, in this case, order in.

“You can put that on the table. Thank you.” Cindy pulled a plate out of her cabinet and left it on the counter. Before Rose could take her leave, Cindy held up a finger and flashed a demure smile. She was in the other room the moment Rose opened her mouth to apologize for taking so long to leave.

What am I supposed to do? Starla would wonder what was taking Rose so long. Considering how understaffed they were that night, it was beyond rude for Rose to not hurry back down to the concierge desk and resume her duties.

Was Rose about to walk away from the woman who had asked her to stay a couple more minutes, though? No way! Even if she didn’t have such a damning crush on Cindy, Rose wasn’t about to tell the woman who paid the highest price for her home that she couldn’t ask the concierge to stay a few moments.

Look at this place… Rose gazed out the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking an incredible domain. Taipei 101. Elephant Mountain. My own damn apartment. What else can you see from up here? If Rose found a more southwest-facing window, she could search for her home village in the mountains. Maybe trace the trail her great-grandparents carved when they came down to trade with the Japanese occupants way back when. No… surely that’s paved over.

What was it like to live in a place like this? Cindy didn’t have to worry about mold in the corners of her room, or spiders crawling down her walls. She didn’t sleep with nets around her bed or wear anything less than a sweater in her own home. I’m pretty hardy toward the hot weather, but I get too hot to sleep sometimes. Cindy had a kitchen fit for a king to bake and cook in, never mind eat his fill. With so many rooms, she could shove a mother-in-law in one side of the apartment and never hear from her again. With one push of a button, she was connected to the concierge, to her driver, to the whole world beyond Taipei. Her TV probably picked up signals that Rose had never heard of, let alone seen for herself. The floors were temperature-controlled and sturdy enough to dance upon. The artwork on the walls one-of-a-kind. The view? She could charge admission. Any woman was lucky to come up here and see it for herself. I’m one of those women…

One of dozens of women she had seen come up to Cindy’s room over the past year.

“Here.” That soft voice nearly sent Rose out of her skin. She grabbed the back of a dining chair and spun around, unable to really confront Cindy’s inability to close her cardigan after it had opened.

She’s wearing a T-shirt. Wow. I can see her… that’s cleav… cleavage…

Gay. Rose was so gay. Gay and desperate for Cindy to take her into those experienced arms and show her the ways of love.

“Are you all right?”

Rose swallowed her pride once more. “I…” She cleared her throat. “I’m fine, Ms. Ling. So sorry for the unprofessionalism.” She said the first excuse to come to her mind. “I happened to look out the window and get a bit of vertigo. I’m not used to being this high off the ground.”

“Oh, yes, I suppose it’s quite intimidating if you’re not used to it.” With a shrug that pushed her cardigan farther down her arms, Cindy handed Rose a slim envelope with the Ling seal stamped on the back. “Please give this to your manager when you go back downstairs. It’s not terribly important, but she’ll certainly want it. I hear there is a flu going around that has knocked out most of the building’s staff? So sorry to hear. You must be run ragged right now.”

“It’s… it’s been a bit busy.” Rose accepted the envelope with a polite nod. “That’s why I’m up here. I don’t usually run the errands for residents.”

“I’m so sorry for keeping you, then.” Cindy cocked her head, her long – and loose! – black hair surrounding her shoulder. She’s so deliriously feminine, yet all I can think about is how powerfully she moves. Rose wasn’t used to those two things colliding. She knew feminine beauty – hell, she understood feminine wiles – and she knew women who were so powerful that they sent the men in the room screaming, but to see both come together in one person rearranged the particles of her heart. And her mind. And other unmentionable parts that she would have to quiet down later. “I bet you’re enjoying the break, though.”

“Excuse me?”

“I won’t tell on you, but you don’t look like you’re in a hurry to scurry back down to the madhouse. I know how demanding some of my neighbors can be. You think I don’t look over every time I go by?”

I look up and see you every time you do. Did Cindy recognize Rose? Or were those winks and smiles reserved for anyone looking back at her, a way to say, “See who I brought home tonight? I bet you’re jealous.”

Of course Rose was jealous…

“Care for a drink?” Cindy threw open a cabinet door in her kitchen and unveiled a small selection of choice wines. “I can’t have Italian without wine. In fact, I have an Italian wine for the occasion. I acquired this at a wedding I attended in Shanghai, if you can believe it.” She flashed the label to Rose, as if that meant anything to her. It was written in Italian, which was more incomprehensible than English. “Very elegant aroma.” Red liquid splashed into a wineglass. Rose was entranced by how deftly Cindy flicked her wrist and filled the glass halfway, as if she knew the exact moment to pull back and sniff the contents she had poured. “I find the whole pageantry of Italian food and wine by one’s self to be insanely soothing. Although, between you and me, I can leave the actual Italian dinners behind. I mean with all the people and the two hours of courses. I’ve done it a few times, and it’s exhausting. Like a proper Chinese wedding banquet, but without your mother making a fuss over you.”

Cindy handed the glass to Rose, who continued to stand with her hands folded before her waist and her mouth slightly agape.

“You’ve still got some work ahead of you tonight, yes?” Cindy said.

“I… I couldn’t. No.” Rose held up her hands. “My manager would notice.”

“Hmm. Not a sip?”

“I really shouldn’t, xiaojie.”

Cindy raised her eyebrows and lowered the glass. “I like how you say xiaojie. You flatter me, when others would make me feel dirty.”

Rose blushed. “I don’t mean to turn down your gift. Really, I…”

“I understand.” Cindy left the wineglass on the edge of the table. “What’s your name?”

Taken aback, Rose chose to look away from how Cindy plated her food. All I smell is tomato and oregano. Now she was hungry. She only had a hard-boiled egg and a rice ball for her dinner.

“Rose, is it?”

Rose’s head snapped back. Ah, Cindy’s eyes were locked on the nametag clipped to the front of Rose’s jacket. That means she’s staring at my chest… People stared at her chest all day. I’m not saying she makes me uncomfortable. I’m saying she makes me excited. And speechless.

“Yes, xiaojie,” she said, this time aware of how she said that word. One wrong inflection, and she said something very rude. But Cindy seemed the type to take being called a woman of the night in stride. “Rose Wu.”

“Wu? My grandmother’s family name was Wu. I’m sure there’s no relation, though.”

“Of course not.” Lord, why would there be! Cindy’s grandmother was probably a woman of the elite class, the kind who personally knew celebrities like Teresa Teng! “My family is from the mountains.”

“Oh? You speak Hokkien, then?”

What did that matter? Why wouldn’t she? Most people in Taipei spoke Hokkien with some fluency. If it wasn’t helpful, it was trendy. “I mostly speak Mandarin and Hokkien, yes,” Rose said. “My Grandmother Wu speaks only Hokkien, so I’m sure there is no relation.”

“I could tell you that my Grandmother Wu was the same way,” Cindy said with a wry smile, “but I would be lying. She often used to say that her native language was French because of how she was raised.”

Rose glanced at the clock hanging on the wall between the kitchen and dining room. “I really must be going, Miss,” she said, continuing to delight in saying the word that made Cindy smile like that. “I’ve been away for too long.”

“If you get in trouble, I shall send another letter down to your manager explaining that you have helped me quite greatly tonight.”

“All I did was…”

“Bring me my dinner? I fail to see how that isn’t a big help. I’m a busy woman. Until a few minutes ago, I was working nonstop for about seven hours. This is me stretching my legs.” Cindy chuckled. “Thank you, Rose. It’s been nice chatting with you.”

Cindy plucked the untouched wineglass from the edge of the table. With the rim touching her lips, she turned around, leaving behind her small dish of Italian food.

Rose didn’t hesitate. She sped out of Cindy’s apartment, and didn’t stop to take a breath until the next Teresa Teng song began playing in the elevator.