“What issue?” Big Aunt says. She’s already made herself at home on the chaise longue, leaning back like a fifteenth-century lady.
“Well, unfortunately, way too many people have seen us lugging the cooler around. I’m pretty sure it looks hella suspicious, so I think we need to get rid of it. Also, it’s clear that if we keep the body inside the cooler, we’re never going to be able to move it off the island before tomorrow evening, and I’m pretty sure he’s going to start smelling by then.”
“Aduh, amit amit deh,” Ma says.
Big Aunt looks up at the ceiling, quiet for a while. “No use ‘amit amit,’” she says, finally. “Meddy is right, by tomorrow body will smell. We cannot wait until then. We need new plan.”
“Fortunately for us,” Fourth Aunt says, jumping into one of the beds, “we’re surrounded by the ocean. Just dump him in the sea and be done with it!”
My instinctive reaction is to refute her, because most of Fourth Aunt’s ideas are flighty and not at all well thought out, and as Ma always grumbles, Fourth Aunt isn’t the most responsible person around. But then I realize that she has a point. Aside from burying the body in the desert, the ocean isn’t a bad option. We could put him in a duffel bag, fill it with rocks, and then dump him in the water. With any luck, by the time he’s found, he’ll be so bloated they won’t be able to identify him.
Wow, my thoughts went to a dark place there. It’s shocking how quickly I’ve adjusted to the thought of, you know, killing a guy, to getting rid of his body. I never thought I had it in me to think like this. Once, I found a wallet with $200 in it on the dance floor of a nightclub, and I actually turned it in. That’s the kind of rule follower I am. But the thought of going to prison, and not just me but my family, because they’ve inadvertently helped to kill Ah Guan, is unthinkable.
“That’s actually a really good idea, Auntie,” I say. “All we have to do is—”
There’s a knock at the door, and we all freeze.
“Room service. I’ve got your bags here.”
Perfect timing! I rush to open the door, then step aside as the bellboy deposits all of our luggage inside the room. I’ve brought only a small overnight bag, but my mom and her sisters are chronic overpackers, and within minutes our room is filled with giant suitcases. I tip the bellboy, and he leaves.
Then I turn, grinning, and say, “Okay, all we have to do is put the body in one of these bad boys and weigh it down with rocks and then tonight, we . . .” I falter. We what? Climb up with a heavy-ass suitcase to the top of the cliff and throw him down to the jagged rocks below? Steal a yacht and drive it out to the middle of the Pacific Ocean and dump him overboard? All these things are easy in theory, but as I’m about to say them out loud, it sounds ridiculous. How would we manage to carry it up to the top of the cliff in complete darkness? That’s an accident waiting to happen. And stealing a yacht? I don’t know how to even begin to do that, and if we somehow managed to get our hands on the keys, none of us knows how to drive a yacht. Is that even what it’s called? Driving? Or do you boat a yacht? This is hopeless.
“We what?” Ma says, her eyes wide with expectation. I can’t bring myself to admit that I have no fucking clue what we do from there.
My phone boops with a text, and I groan, remembering that I’m way overdue at the bridal suite.
Seb [11:35AM]: Uh oh, someone told the bride about the groom and buddies being dead drunk and she’s sent the MoH over to the groom’s suite.
Seb [11:36AM]: Oooh, MoH is really laying into them. These idiots, I swear.
Seb [11:40AM]: Omg, turns out they only got done drinking at like, 9AM. No wonder these assholes are still passed out!!!
Meddy [11:41AM]: Does this mean I have more time before I need to rush over to the bridal suite?
Seb [11:41AM]: Yeah. I don’t think she’s gonna be done anytime soon. But you’re missing out on a good show.
Meddy [11:42AM]: I’ll be over in a bit.
I stuff the phone back into my pocket, my mind whirring, and with a click that’s practically audible, everything falls into place. The passed-out groomsmen. The crates of alcohol in the kitchen. Things starting off with cocktail hour as soon as the rest of the guests arrive.
“This is it!” I cry.
All three women look at me quizzically.
“I’ve got it! Forget about the luggage and whatnot. We’ll hide him in plain sight. We’ll pretend he’s one of the drunk guests and then at night, while everyone’s busy at the reception, we can take him to the pier. No one’s going to think twice about yet another drunk guy. When the coast is clear, we throw him in the water. Even if he washes up to shore, they’ll just think he got drunk, fell off the pier, and drowned.”