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.
The seats fill up rapidly, and after the warnings to turn off phones and that filming is prohibited, followed by the Indigenous land acknowledgment, the lights dim and the curtain rises to thunderous applause.
The first act takes place in a Chinese restaurant, with white-draped tables and black cane-backed chairs. Fangli appears wearing a blue dress with a tight waist, and her waved hair makes her look like a 1940s pinup. She is perfection as she moves around the chairs. Even silent, she manages to keep my attention with her sheer presence.
Then Sam comes onto the stage. I do my best to not stare at him, but it’s like trying to avoid gazing at the sun during an eclipse. I know I shouldn’t and that it will be bad for me, but I can’t resist a little peek because surely that can’t do any damage.
He’s dressed in a dark-gray suit, and they’ve styled his hair to reveal his face instead of his usual tousled look. When he tugs on the bottom of the vest, I add it immediately to the hot-things-hot-men-do list, which I fully recognize is a hot-things-Sam-does list.
Together, the two of them weave a story with more than their words. Their every action adds layers. I watch with avid eyes as they build their relationship around a multitude of secrets—his upcoming secret mission in Southeast Asia, her absent and despised fiancé.
Before the intermission, their chemistry has become a tangible thing, drawing in the audience. Fangli-as-Lin is powerfully attracted to Sam-as-Jimmy, although she knows he’s hiding something from her. Jimmy feels the same and is finding it difficult to resist her. I watch him, barely breathing, as Lin reaches out to touch his lapel and he moves from her with a quick step to lean against the wall.