Year of the Tiger. Lisa Brackman

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      Outside, the dust has kicked up, filtering the sun through a yellow haze.

      I walk down Jianguomen. There’s a Starbucks around here someplace. I could get a cup of coffee. I fixate on that. A cup of coffee. I’ll get a cup of coffee and try to think. But I can’t remember where the fucking Starbucks is, exactly. It’s around here. I keep walking down the street. I just need to get a cup of coffee, and I’ll be able to sort all this out.

      Tears run down my face. I’ll just blame the dust. Because the other stuff, I can’t think about that. Trey and his little ho’ girlfriend. Loves Jesus, my ass. The stuff he did … How can he talk about love?

      And Lao Zhang. It’s not like I love him. What’s love, right? I thought I loved Trey, and how stupid was that?

      But I like him. Lao Zhang’s a good guy. Maybe the Suits are telling the truth; maybe he’s fucking around, but so what? I never asked him not to. All I ever asked was if I could come over, and he always said yes. I think: all the time we’ve spent together, hanging out, it felt … comfortable. Like belonging somewhere. And now …

      What’s he gotten himself into?

      Then I think: it’s not the Chinese government that’s after Lao Zhang. It’s Global Security Concepts. Trey’s company. Not official. But they might as well be.

      I know how those guys work.

      How did the Suits find out about Lao Zhang?

      I’m slick with sweat, like a fever’s breaking. They’ve been watching me, no matter what they said. They followed me to Mati. To Lao Zhang.

      How long have they been watching?

      Finally, I spot the familiar green-and-white Starbucks logo.

      Inside, the air is perfectly conditioned, and they’re playing their latest retro Brazilian compilation; the baristas are smiling, the espresso machine hisses, and it smells like roasted coffee. They’re advertising Fair Trade beans and selling Starbucks Beijing coffee mugs. There’s a couple of tourists, a student or two, and a few local businessmen with pocket PCs and laptops.

      I feel better already.

       ‘Yi bei benride kafei. Zhong.’

      ‘Room for cream?’ asks the barista. They all know the English for coffee words.

      They give me my coffee of the day, size medium. I put the cup down on an empty table and go into the restroom to wash my face. Under the fluorescent light above the mirror, I can see where my tears have cut through the dust and soot of a Beijing spring day.

      I look like shit.

      I used to be cute. It wasn’t so weird that Trey wanted me, back in the day. I used to be fresh-faced and smooth and round. Nice tits. Good hair. Standard American Attractiveness Template.

      Now? I have circles under my eyes, black ones, as dark as the Uighur’s. Crow’s-feet. Lines running down from my nose to my mouth, deep as slashes. Blemishes and brown spots on my face from the sun. I’m seven years older. And I’m not sure I’m any wiser than I was.

      Fucking Trey. It’s his fault my life’s turned out this way. I was young and dumb, and I would’ve done anything he wanted me to. And he knew that. He knew that, and he crooked his finger at me, and I followed him.

      Then I think: but you went. You didn’t have to. You should’ve known better.

      But there’s nothing I can do about any of that now.

      I wash my hands, my face. Go out and sit at my table. Sip my coffee and try to think.

      They watch Mati Village, Suit #1 said. Who’s watching? Someone I know? One of the artists? A waitress at the jiaozi place?

      I should call Lao Zhang, let him know these guys are looking for him. I get out my phone, and then I hesitate. The Suits never asked me for his phone number. I sip my coffee and think, they must have it already. And I think: how is that? I stare at my phone and wonder. They probably know my number. Fucking Trey probably gave it to them. Can they tap these things?

      How did they find me earlier at Matrix Arcade? They didn’t follow me from Chuckie’s apartment, did they? So how did they find me?

      Cell phones all have GPS built in. You can find people with GPS – that’s what it’s for, right?

      I switch off my phone. This is crazy. They can’t just do that, can they?

      I laugh in spite of myself. Yeah, right. They can do whatever they want to do.

      Besides, this is China.

      I stare at the iPhone. It was a gift from Trey two years ago: top of the line then, out of date now. He bought it in Hong Kong, unlocked, which is СКАЧАТЬ