Somewhere Only We Know(10)

And I didn’t know if it was the anxiety meds or what, but the usual panic that came over me in large crowds didn’t surface.

Maybe it was also because visions of hamburgers still danced in my head. So I kept walking, keeping my head down and the collar on my trench popped up. Was this more or less conspicuous? I felt like the freaking Pink Panther.

I reached a mall directory and stared at it. What in Sam Hill was this? Everything was digital. I touched the screen a few times, but the thinking required to figure this out was going to melt my face off.

All right, Lucky. Follow your nose. Yeah, great plan. I had a very sensitive nose.

The mall was endless. I walked by luxury store after luxury store. And fancy restaurants, but nothing that looked like it would promise a good, greasy burger. A few minutes later I ended up near some escalators leading out of the subway station. Navigating a Hong Kong mall while fighting against sleep and anxiety medication was a grand idea. My head felt a bit woozy, and things started to blur together into soft lights.

Trying to orient myself in this state, I missed the giant group of people coming out of the station and was swept up into the crowd.

Worried about being recognized, I kept in step with everyone until I felt a rush of cool air.

When the crowd dispersed, I found myself standing outside on the streets of Hong Kong. Alone.





CHAPTER SIX


JACK


You know that scene in Harry Potter where they ride that bonkers double-decker bus through London?

Hong Kong buses weren’t that different.

Sitting up on the second level of the double-decker (one of many cultural remnants of Hong Kong’s British colonial history), I could see the winding streets of Central—full of people, since it was a Friday night.

Hong Kong, the entire territory, is fairly large—spread out between Hong Kong Island, Kowloon, the New Territories, and a bunch of smaller islands. Kowloon is across Victoria Harbour from the island, connected to mainland China. But I lived on Hong Kong Island, and the bus was currently taking us through Central, the economic and financial center of the city, on the northern part of the island near the water. It was full of skyscrapers and high-rise apartment towers, close to the big tourist spots that everyone associated with the city.

In Asia, there was this electricity of the future everywhere. And something about that made me feel alive. And in a huge city like this, there was infinite space for improvisation. For reinvention. You could do whatever you wanted. It was the opposite of growing up in a Southern California suburb—where there seemed to be one path that everyone was following. Where nighttime activities were limited to strip malls and movie theaters. Where, even with the vastness of the landscape around you, you felt trapped.

I loved the bus for a lot of reasons, and right now it was a good place to get work done. Still high off my coup, I was uploading my photos to Trevor. They came out great. Even in the dim lighting, framed by leaves, you could see Teddy and Celeste in a hotel room together. With some random silhouetted dude bent over a giant flower arrangement. I had played around with the photos to sharpen their faces and put myself more in shadow. These were gonna be my biggest payday.

Celeste’s words echoed in my head as I sorted through the photos. You could ruin a lot of lives. A few months ago, that comment would have bothered me. Buried itself under my skin and made me feel bad about myself. But dozens of encounters with celebrities later—watching them have affairs, treat service staff like trash, throw fits, scream at their children—I’d grown numb to it all. This was a job now. That’s it. Nothing personal, but it was the price of fame, Celeste.

I immediately got a text back from Trevor: Good work. One more big scoop and you’re looking at a full-time position.

Full-time? I sat straight up in the colorfully upholstered seat. I knew that Trevor was liking my work lately, but this was a new thing. A new opportunity. It would give me something to do in place of college. And even if my parents found out—well, I could support myself now. I wouldn’t have to live with their disappointment in my life decisions. Their hopes of me studying business or engineering or whatever in college. Just because my parents chose stability over excitement didn’t mean I had to.

The bus came to a sudden stop and when I glanced up out the window, I realized I had made a complete loop—I was back near the hotel. I checked my phone. It wasn’t even eleven yet. I still had time to meet up with a friend or two for a drink. The legal drinking age in Hong Kong is eighteen, which blew my mind when I moved here.

I texted my roommate, Charlie Yu.

Do you have time to grab a drink?

A minute later he responded.

YAYERS. In an hour when I can take a “lunch break”

When his uncle retired, Charlie inherited his taxi business and his classic red Toyota. Taxis were a Hong Kong institution and Charlie worked nights. He often took extended breaks to grab a beer with me.

Cool—I got a HUGE scoop for Trevor. DRINKS ON ME.

Charlie replied: GET THAT MONEY.

I shook my head and smiled. Charlie and I were unabashedly hustling for cash all the time. Our complaints about our jobs and lack of money filled our apartment as we played video games and ate ramen. It was our main source of bonding.

I texted back: Always. I’ll pick a spot and text you.

Make sure you pick a place with actual chicks. Not like that last dive bar full of weird old bros who all looked and smelled like retired fishermen