“No offense, but I don’t think that right now is the best time to give Meddy posture adjustments,” Fourth Aunt says.
I nod gratefully. “Fourth Aunt is right.” Ma’s expression looks like I might as well have punched her right in the heart. “But thank you for your help, Ma and Second Aunt. You’re both right, my back was starting to hurt.”
Ma and Second Aunt smile smugly and—thank god—resume walking. We walk the rest of the way to the lobby in relative silence, save for Ma muttering to herself, “Aiya, no more cheap lily.”
The lobby is a lot busier than when we first arrived. Ma’s underlings have arrived, wearing their trademark bright red and gold shirts, the colors of good fortune in Chinese culture. With an excited squeal, Ma rushes over to survey the arrangements. She’s been working on these for weeks, designing each centerpiece and flower stand, overseeing the workmanship meticulously. Now, she beams with naked pride as the crates are opened and her workers take out the most elaborate flower sculptures and arrangements I have ever seen. She barks out orders—this tower to the ballroom, that vase to the bridal room—and is about to scurry off, giving out more orders, when she stops and turns back to me.
“Meddy, oh—I forget about the you know what—” she says, but I wave her away.
“It’s fine, Ma. I’ve got everything under control.”
“Okay. Okay, you be careful, ya.” She squeezes my arm and then is off, shouting to a worker to be careful with the peonies.
My phone beeps with a text message.
Seb [09:51AM]: I’m here! Super early, but that’s what you get from the world’s best second photog!
Meddy [09:52AM]: Great! Go to the groom’s suite and start taking photos.
Seb [09:53AM]: Aye, aye boss.
A hotel receptionist hurries toward us. “Excuse me, sorry, are you the hair and makeup artist?”
Second Aunt nods.
“Oh good, I’ve got instructions to take you to the bridal suite. Please follow me.”
Second Aunt glances at me, her eyes questioning. “You going to be okay or not?”
I smile at her. “Go. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay, Auntie go first then. You be careful.” With that, she leaves, and I’m alone with Fourth Aunt. And the body. “You doing okay, Fourth Aunt?” I can’t even begin to describe how bad I feel about dragging her into this. I’m the least close to Fourth Aunt out of all my aunts. Maybe it’s because of her ongoing feud with Ma, or maybe it’s because she’s the opposite of me in every way. Whatever it is, I’ve always felt a little awkward around her, and now we’re supposed to go all the way back to San Gabriel Valley with a dead body. This is fiiine. I am totally okay with this plan.
“It’s way too early for me to be awake.” Fourth Aunt sighs. “I’m going to look so haggard at tonight’s performance.”
“You? Haggard? Never.” I pull the cooler up again and resume walking. “You’re looking great, Auntie. Very glamor—oh.” Outside the lobby, the long, winding path leading back to the pier is made of loose pebbles. My stomach drops. How the hell am I going to wheel the cooler down this path? Why would anyone make a path out of pebbles?! This is a serious design flaw! What about people in wheelchairs, or parents with strollers, or people carrying dead bodies in giant coolers?
“Would you like me to call you a buggy, miss?” a hotel receptionist asks.
I startle, and the receptionist tilts his head at the cooler. “Let me call you a buggy—”
“Nope! No need!”
He frowns, confused. “But—”
“I get buggy sickness,” Fourth Aunt says. “We’ll be fine. This old thing is empty anyway.”
We smile widely at the receptionist until he goes away, looking bemused.
“Now what?” I whisper to Fourth Aunt.
“Put those biceps to good use,” she replies, pushing the end of the cooler. It rolls off the smooth marble and onto the pebble path. We wince at the horrible crunching noise it makes as I pull, and Fourth Aunt pushes it along the path.
“This is not working,” I grunt, after only a few seconds. “People are going to wonder why we’re not putting it on a buggy.” Sure enough, when I glance back, people are taking notice, throwing strange looks our way. But that might also just be the effect that Fourth Aunt often has, being the equivalent of a human peacock.
“Pull harder,” she gasps, shoving at the cooler.