NoHo Noir Short Fiction: 'Sex in the City'

Sebastian Ming had been inviting Anna to come to Hong Kong for months. She’d been putting him off with excuses that had absolutely nothing to do with the real reason for her reluctance; reasons that had everything to do with her own insecurities and fears.

She could deal with his thing for her mother—it wasn’t like she never fantasized in bed herself—and the age difference didn’t really bother her either. Asian men don’t show their age like white guys. Her own father could have passed for a man in his mid-thirties and he was 52 when he died.

What scared Anna was that she’d always seen taking over her mother’s real estate business as a stopgap. She’d always intended to return to the movie business one day. If she went to Hong Kong and partnered up with Ming, it would mean putting away her show business ambitions.

On the other hand, six months into her career as a realtor, and she’d paid off her student loans while most of the people who’d gone through the Peter Stark producing program with her were still struggling under the weight of repayment plans as they rolled calls for some asshole movie executive and dreamed of the day they too would have an assistant.

Ming had been open about his disappointment with his only son who wanted no part of the family business and seemed content to merely drift through life.

Ming wanted to expand his empire. To do that he needed a partner. He’d made it clear to Anna that the position was hers if she wanted it.

Anna’s assistant Ceelie, a born romantic, thought Anna should make the trip—if only to visit Hong Kong.

Jessica thought it was a good idea too. She was the only one who knew that what was really at the bottom of Anna’s reluctance was the fear that she’d be swallowed up by Ming’s powerful personality and become nothing more than a highly paid office girl.

In California the playing field was somewhat level. In HK, she’d be on Ming’s turf. She’d seen the way he exercised his power—quietly, ruthlessly.

Her grandmother had taught Anna that anyone who lost his temper in public was a weakling and that anyone who yelled at an employee lacked character. Her former boss, James Gold, had been a screamer.

He’d let Anna go without a whimper—she was just another expendable assistant, but he was campaigning hard for Jessica’s return.

Gold’s latest first assistant had been IM’ing Jessica for weeks, hoping to entice her back to the office with promises of more money, a better title, her own development fund.

Jessica ignored the messages.

She’d originally taken a leave of absence from the company after Chris died but when Gold had asked her to put together a studio pitch memo on the eve of his funeral as a “favor” to him, she’d made it official.

She was through.

“But I really need that memo,” Gold had wheedled. “And it’ll take your mind off things.” Jessica hadn’t bothered to hang up before throwing the phone across the room. It hit a wall and shattered. She hadn’t bothered to buy a new phone and was communicating almost entirely through twitter after blocking @goldstandard.

“It’s just a trip to Hong Kong,” Jessica had said to Anna. “Go check it out, have your fortune told, get a suit made. Have some fun. Ceelie can handle the office for a week.”

Anna knew Jessica was right.

The next time Mr. Ming asked her to come to Hong Kong, Anna said, “Why not?”

***

Anna practically stumbled off the plane in Hong Kong, badly sleep-deprived after the 15 and a half-hour flight.

Ming had sent a car to take her to her hotel and had booked a restorative massage as soon as she’d checked in. Afterwards he’d invited her to dinner but she’d begged off so she could hit the neon-washed streets and just soak everything in.

She was bone-tired but not sleepy at all as she walked around the city, taking in the sights.

It almost sent her into sensory overload.

Anna soaked it all in and was energized.

I could live here, she thought as she returned to her hotel.

***

“She’s back,” Winston Marbury said to his partner Chen Fan as Anna walked through the entrance.

“Thank God,” Chen said. They’d been surveilling the lobby for hours and she was dying for a smoke.

“Think she’s in for the night?”

“She’s got to be completely jet-lagged,” Marbury said.

He raised his arm and discreetly spoke into his cufflink. “She’s on her way up.”

There was an inaudible reply.

“Donnie’s got it covered,” Marbury said to Chen. “He’ll see she’s tucked in.”

Chen looked at Marbury sourly. He loved this stuff. But then he was the newest member of Hong Kong’s Organized Crime and Triad Bureau and still thought he was a character in a John Woo movie.

Chen had been working in Macau in the 90s when Broken Tooth Koi and Ng Wai had gone to war over casinos. Sebastian Ming didn’t impress her much. He was just a “white paper fan,” a financial adviser to the most powerful triad on the island.

Following the American mistress of a known triad associate was just busywork to her but it was an opportunity to Winston.

The OCTB wasn’t really interested in Ming, they wanted his father. The old man was rumored to have lung cancer and if that was true, there’d soon be a vacancy at the top of the power pyramid. If they could get him to unburden his soul before he died, they could clear a lot of cases.

Getting their hooks into Ming might give them the leverage they needed to get the old man to talk.

The girl troubled Chen, though. For one thing, the American didn’t really fit the mold of a triad honey. She was young, but not particularly pretty, and more than a little chunky.

The dossier LAPD had sent had plenty to say about the girl’s grandmother, a Nanking survivor who’d amassed a fortune after immigrating to California in the fifties.

Madame Wang was someone to look into. But the girl? She didn’t fit the profile. She’d gone to film school, for God’s sake, and had been working as an assistant when her mother died in a car accident.

Her father had killed himself a few weeks later, apparently distraught over his wife’s death. There’d been rumors he owed some mob guys a lot of money but LAPD hadn’t been able to confirm or deny. The girl apparently had no idea either way.

It just didn’t make sense.

Chen Fan looked at her phone. Still three hours left on their shift.

She sighed.

***

Standing nude on the balcony of his Severn Road home, Sebastian Ming finished his cigarette. The beautiful long-legged companion he’d hired for the evening had gone home an hour ago. He hoped Anna was sleeping well. She made an excellent diversion for the cops who’d been on his ass for months and he intended to have them chase her all over Hong Kong while he showed her a good time.

When the time was right, he’d transfer his holdings to her name and vanish.

He hoped the law would be lenient on her.