Friday, July 15, 2005
violence and shrimp
"Liar!"
When the punch came, Rose wasn't expecting it. Doubled over, gasping, she swore at the sight of her cigarette, floating dead in the puddle at her feet. She straightened in time to see Valerie's quickly retreating figure though watery eyes as she reached the sidewalk, turned left, and disappeared from view.
What a fool, Rose thought angrily as she started after the girl, not quite sure which of them she was referring to. She reached the end of the alley just in time to see Val turn down the next block. The streets were nearly deserted, wet and dark - 3:44 am by Rose's internal clock. A shape in the shadow of a doorway at the corner became a man in rags, huddled sniffling over a coffee can full of fire. He lifted his head to stare as Rose charged past, and kept staring long after both women were gone.
The next block was a long one with no alleys or intersections, and yet Val was nowhere in sight. Rose came to a stop and surveyed the possibilities. There were shops and restaurants on either side of the street, but Val couldn't have had time to cross to the other side without being seen. On this side of the street there were only a few places still open. A tiny convenience store, shopkeeper with his feet up on the counter reading a newspaper. No, not that one. A late-night liquor store with a bar, where a group of boys huddled nervously, cash and little packets changing hands beneath the counter. She wouldn't have gone in there either. The Cheerful Monkey, a dizzy maze of hanging paper dragons, vinyl booths, old carvings and golden bells, spilling noise and light onto the sidewalk. Bingo.
Rose stepped though the door. A few businessmen lingered at the bar. In a back corner, three tables had been pulled together, and the owners and staff sat deep in noisy discussion over a communal dinner. Near the door to the kitchen, a man holding a mop hesitated, glancing back and forth between the kitchen door and the busy table. Without pausing, Rose strode past him into the kitchen.
The argument taking place inside didn't pause for breath at her entrance. She took in the piles of chopped vegetables, bowls of fresh noodles and unlabeled jars of spices and condiments with a glance. Two cooks bickered in Chinese, gesturing wildly with cleavers and wooden spoons, all the while chopping and stir-frying. The smell of garlic and ginger filled the space with a cloud of stinging oil smoke.
Rose rolled her eyes elaborately and cleared her throat. "Ok, where is she?" The debate paused long enough for both men to favor her with a pointed glare. As she stepped around the main counter and into the middle of the kitchen, a cart lurched wildly toward her, piled with huge bags of shrimp and shiny whole fish, staring glassy eyed upward. Val bolted in the opposite direction, crashing into a rack of pots and pans on her way to the rear exit. The shorter cook began bouncing up and down, pointing after Val with the spatula in his hand, shouting accusing syllables while the other rushed at Rose, waving his arms. The cart struck her, knocking her to the floor, and a 25 lb bag of fresh shrimp spilled into her lap, followed by a rain of trout.
Cursing, boots slipping on fish and brine, Rose hauled herself to her feet, pushing past both cooks, and stormed out the back door after Val. As the door slammed shut behind her and she paused in the cool quiet of the alley, she realized she was alone. Up and down the alley in both directions, there were no other doorways for several hundred feet. She was surrounded on both sides by old, very solid buildings. Reaching out to touch the damp bricks, she shook her head, half grinning despite her anger. "Well, shit. I guess the girl's remembering more than I thought."
When the punch came, Rose wasn't expecting it. Doubled over, gasping, she swore at the sight of her cigarette, floating dead in the puddle at her feet. She straightened in time to see Valerie's quickly retreating figure though watery eyes as she reached the sidewalk, turned left, and disappeared from view.
What a fool, Rose thought angrily as she started after the girl, not quite sure which of them she was referring to. She reached the end of the alley just in time to see Val turn down the next block. The streets were nearly deserted, wet and dark - 3:44 am by Rose's internal clock. A shape in the shadow of a doorway at the corner became a man in rags, huddled sniffling over a coffee can full of fire. He lifted his head to stare as Rose charged past, and kept staring long after both women were gone.
The next block was a long one with no alleys or intersections, and yet Val was nowhere in sight. Rose came to a stop and surveyed the possibilities. There were shops and restaurants on either side of the street, but Val couldn't have had time to cross to the other side without being seen. On this side of the street there were only a few places still open. A tiny convenience store, shopkeeper with his feet up on the counter reading a newspaper. No, not that one. A late-night liquor store with a bar, where a group of boys huddled nervously, cash and little packets changing hands beneath the counter. She wouldn't have gone in there either. The Cheerful Monkey, a dizzy maze of hanging paper dragons, vinyl booths, old carvings and golden bells, spilling noise and light onto the sidewalk. Bingo.
Rose stepped though the door. A few businessmen lingered at the bar. In a back corner, three tables had been pulled together, and the owners and staff sat deep in noisy discussion over a communal dinner. Near the door to the kitchen, a man holding a mop hesitated, glancing back and forth between the kitchen door and the busy table. Without pausing, Rose strode past him into the kitchen.
The argument taking place inside didn't pause for breath at her entrance. She took in the piles of chopped vegetables, bowls of fresh noodles and unlabeled jars of spices and condiments with a glance. Two cooks bickered in Chinese, gesturing wildly with cleavers and wooden spoons, all the while chopping and stir-frying. The smell of garlic and ginger filled the space with a cloud of stinging oil smoke.
Rose rolled her eyes elaborately and cleared her throat. "Ok, where is she?" The debate paused long enough for both men to favor her with a pointed glare. As she stepped around the main counter and into the middle of the kitchen, a cart lurched wildly toward her, piled with huge bags of shrimp and shiny whole fish, staring glassy eyed upward. Val bolted in the opposite direction, crashing into a rack of pots and pans on her way to the rear exit. The shorter cook began bouncing up and down, pointing after Val with the spatula in his hand, shouting accusing syllables while the other rushed at Rose, waving his arms. The cart struck her, knocking her to the floor, and a 25 lb bag of fresh shrimp spilled into her lap, followed by a rain of trout.
Cursing, boots slipping on fish and brine, Rose hauled herself to her feet, pushing past both cooks, and stormed out the back door after Val. As the door slammed shut behind her and she paused in the cool quiet of the alley, she realized she was alone. Up and down the alley in both directions, there were no other doorways for several hundred feet. She was surrounded on both sides by old, very solid buildings. Reaching out to touch the damp bricks, she shook her head, half grinning despite her anger. "Well, shit. I guess the girl's remembering more than I thought."
# posted by Dara : 1:09 PM
