The Stand-In(58)

I scoop a huge glob and stuff it into my mouth. “How was your day?” Please let her not mention how I nearly trashed her reputation by dropping a towel and making it look like she was going to give Sam head in the hallway. Sam has assured me it was taken care of without Fangli even knowing, which gives me some confidence in the ability of their people to deal with the tabloids if news of what I’m doing for Fangli ever gets out—but I hate thinking about what might have happened.

She makes a face and drinks her seltzer. “My father called.”

The light in the suite is dim and in the background, some music I don’t recognize is playing on her phone. It makes me think of nostalgia. “Sounds like it wasn’t a great conversation.”

“He disapproves of me working out of the country,” she says. “He thinks I should stay in China.”

“Parents.”

“I know. I always wish I had a sibling to take off some of the pressure. I wanted a sister. My stepmother was not amenable.”

“I wanted a sister, too.”

“Why didn’t you?” she asks. “For us, it was the one-child policy. I was born after it started.”

“I don’t know,” I say. “I never asked my mother. I suppose I always assumed she thought I was enough.”

Fangli leans over and touches my hand. “You were. I would have loved to have known my mother.”

We sit quietly for a moment. Then she speaks again. “Would you like to come to the show tomorrow?” she asks. “It may be an experience for you to see what it’s like.”

I nearly jump out of my chair. “One hundred percent. Am I going as a regular guest or your makeup artist?”

“Guest.” She tilts her head as she assesses me. “Mei will get you a ticket and we’ll go separately so we’re not seen together but it should work.”

“I haven’t seen a play in ages,” I say.

Fangli pulls the celery toward her. “Your dossier said you acted in school.”

“I did and I went to shows all the time.” I trace my finger around the table. “When Mom started getting sicker, it got harder for me to go out.”

“Physically leave the house, or find the energy to do it?”

“Energy. I had to decide on the show, get the tickets… I was so overwhelmed that it was too much.” I shake my head. “That sounds dumb when I say it out loud, that it was too hard for me to buy a ticket off a website.”

But Fangli is beside me, nodding. “It happens to me,” she says. “There’s too much choice, and since all of them have merit, it’s exhausting to choose. At least I have Mei to help me whittle them down.”

“Outsourcing decisions.” I take back the celery from her and start eating. “I like it.”

“Most of my days are managed for me,” she says. “I’m told where to go and someone else gets me there. I wonder if it’s made it hard for me to think for myself.”

Fangli’s face drops with a sudden blank expression, as if introspection has taken over. I gave a little wave. “Hey. Earth to Fangli.”

“I was trying to think of the last time I made a big choice,” she says. Then she grins. “It was when I decided to come after you.”

“Not even acting in this play?”

“I wouldn’t have considered doing it without Sam. He was the one they approached first and he thought it would be fun for both of us. They agreed, and so did I.” She wipes her fingers on a napkin. “Sam usually gets what he wants. I think it’s the streak of Lu Lili in him.”

“His mother.”

Fangli’s huge eyes say it all. “She’s an über-diva. Absolutely in a class of her own.”

“Have you ever worked with her?”

“Once.” Fangli pulls her robe closer around her shoulders and speaks in the hushed tones you’d use to describe a force of nature. “Lili was magnificent. She never raised her voice, not once, but you knew exactly when you made a mistake. She knew how every scene should be shot, the best angles and lighting. And she was right, every time. Poor Sam.”

“Why poor Sam?”

“She doesn’t run her personal life any differently than her professional one. She’s tried to push him into countless projects, and even if he says no to most, he has to agree to some for the sake of family peace.” She glances at the clock. “I should be going. I’ll make sure Mei gets you a ticket for the matinee. We don’t have an evening show tomorrow. Sleep well.”

She leaves and I go through my nighttime cleansing ritual. I instinctively hid the marks on my arm from Ellen Gao’s one-woman fan club but now I examine them closely. She grabbed me hard enough to leave little half-moons from her nails. I shudder. Fame and money would be nice, but at what expense? That was a minor incident. This fame thing is nothing like what I thought it would be.





Twenty-Three


The theater is within walking distance of the hotel, and I leave a bit early to take in the sun on my way there. It’s a beautiful day, with a sky blue enough to be in postcards.

It takes my eyes a minute to adjust to the dim theater lobby after the summer sun’s bone-white gleam. I’ve been here before, but even if I hadn’t, it’s exactly what you’d expect a theater to look like, with dark wood, red carpeting, and gilt fixtures. Mei set me up with a great ticket in the middle of the orchestra section and strict instructions to keep on the fake eyeglasses she’s provided. An usher hands me a program as I make my way to the red velvet seat and I tilt the booklet at an awkward angle to catch enough light to read before the play starts. I’ve read the script so I skip the synopsis to spend an extra minute checking the bios. Sam’s wearing a black collared shirt and a huge grin, while Fangli has a sly expression and her hair tumbling around her shoulders.