Suki Kim - The Interpreter

Inside are a couple of empty booths, and a sleepy man in red and white stripes, kneading the dough. He hardly reacts when he sees her. Maybe he can tell that she does not really want pizza. Maybe he is afraid of the abyss of wanting in her eyes. Maybe she is not the first of the lost children to end up here.

“Coffee, please.”

“That’s it?” he asks grumpily, as if saying, “Hey lady, this ain’t a café, you order pizza at a pizzeria.”

“And a slice,” she adds, to appease him.

He makes no response, cutting a slab from the congealed pie on the table and flinging it into the oven with hardly a glance.

When the slice finally comes back out, nothing about it signals magic. Drippy yellow on an extra-thick crust. The cottage in the forest was a phantom. No wicked witch. Not a single crumb.

The mushy cheese tastes like fat, a lukewarm chunk, moist and chewy. It instantly turns her stomach, and she washes it down with a sip of coffee, which is so hot that it burns her tongue. She puts down the cup and glances out the window instead. The rain does not seem too bad now, at least more promising than the rancid-fat smell. As she is about to get up, she notices a car pulling up outside. A BMW, too fancy for this neighborhood. From the door on the driver’s side, a woman pops out and runs in with her hand on her forehead, covering her face from the rain.

A whiff of candy-sick perfume. The flaring red raincoat gleams too shiny against her yellowed skin. Her copper curls look burnt, in need of a fresh dye job or a perm. With her chapped lips and blotted mascara, she seems to have just rolled out of bed. Someone else’s bed, most likely.

The sleepy man, though, perks up. “ Ciao, bellissima ,” he greets her with a wide grin.

The woman blows him a kiss, brushing her coat noisily, shaking the water out. “Hey handsome, did you miss me?” she says with a wink.

All gooey now, he asks, “What you doing here so early, Mina?”

“Johnny hasn’t come by, has he?” she asks.

The man doesn’t look happy when he answers, “Still no news?”

The woman shrugs, glancing at Suzy, as if suddenly aware of her gaze. Suzy quickly looks away.

Mina, the new owner of Seven Stars.

Perched on a stool by the counter, chatting with the no-longer-sleepy man, the woman tackles her pizza and Coke with much gusto. Suzy remains in her booth, trying to listen to their conversation, which is oddly muffled now. Suzy cannot make out anything except the occasional giggle and something about the lack of customers. Then, suddenly, the woman rises, blowing another kiss at her fan behind the counter. Suzy also rises, quickly trashing her pizza. Rather than hopping back in the car, the woman dashes next door. Suzy follows, only to be ambushed by her waiting inside.

“What’s the idea?” Mina hollers huskily, squinting as though she forgot to put her contact lenses on this morning.

Suzy is not sure what to say. She has no business following this woman. She can play innocent and keep on walking, or she can make up something, anything that may open doors. Doors to what, though? What is she looking for, why is she here?

Say something about the KK —a voice in her head. Be an insider.

“Those guys… Have you heard anything new?”

Glaring at Suzy, Mina asks sharply, “Who are you?” Then she adds, almost as an afterthought, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’ve been told to come here for the scoop.” Suzy comes up with the first thing that sounds plausible.

“Who told you that?” Mina asks suspiciously.

Recalling one of the names Detective Lester mentioned, Suzy takes a chance. “My man’s in trouble… Maddog.”

“You’re Maddog’s girl?” Mina then steps back a little, contemplating Suzy in her plain dark coat, black scarf, and matching hat. Her eyes pore over Suzy’s face, free of makeup except a touch of rosy lip gloss, most of which has faded by now. It is obvious that Suzy does not belong here. Women like Suzy do not belong to a gangster named Maddog. Finally, Mina snaps, “I’ve never seen you before.”

“I’ve never seen you either,” Suzy retorts with purposeful terseness. It works. Mina looks stumped and says uncertainly, “What’s come over Maddog? He likes his girls with a bit more meat on their bones.”

“He likes me fine,” Suzy says with what she hopes is the right tone of arrogance.

“I don’t know who told you to come here,” says Mina, shaking her head. “Johnny’s got nothing to do with it. Tell Maddog it’s not Johnny.”

So there must have been some sort of infighting. According to Detective Lester, the AOCTF busted the gang on an anonymous tip. It seems that Maddog believes a guy named Johnny was involved.

“Girl, it’s none of my business.” She clicks her tongue with a pitying look at Suzy. “But if I were you, I’d wash my hands now. Maddog’s a goner.” She begins climbing up the steps, then halts suddenly and turns around, leaning closer. Suzy moves away instinctively. Something about the woman’s sallow skin makes her cringe, as though its secret is contagious. Crunching up her face, Mina says slowly, “Wait a minute. I’ll be damned.”

Suzy stands still, her heart thumping.

A long, cool gaze. Mina cocks her head, muttering to herself, “No… she wouldn’t dare.” Scanning Suzy’s face once more, she whispers, “It’s not Mariana who sent you, is it?”

“Hey, I told you I’m here for my man…” Suzy is about to protest when she remembers.

Mariana.

Grace’s code name for marijuana.

May I be excused? I promised my friend Mariana that we’ll do our homework together.

“Who’s this Mariana?” Suzy stammers. “Maybe… I know her.”

Mina purses her lips, as if in distaste, and spits out, “Boykiller, we all called her. She used to hang out here back in the old days.”

Suzy tries to keep her composure, to stop herself from lunging at this woman with questions. This aging call girl in blinding red. Suzy swallows hard before asking, “And this Mariana—how old was she?” A faint voice, feeble almost.

“Not the legal age, if that’s what you’re asking,” Mina says derisively. “A schoolgirl gone wild. She thought she was something special ’cause she only screwed big shots. That was her thing, she chose her own guys, no money was ever good enough. Johnny should’ve ditched her when her father took her away.”

“Her father?” Suzy repeats, feeling the height of the stairs suddenly.

“I’m sure she put on the whole show just to get caught.” Mina rolls her eyes.

“Her father… came here?”

“You sure you’re Maddog’s girl?” Mina says, studying Suzy with a puzzled smile. “Listen, I don’t care who you are, but if you see Mariana, tell her to leave Johnny alone.” Then, fixing Suzy with a nearly pleading look, she adds, “He’s no KK’s bellboy. Those days are over.”

“Johnny, was he her lover?”

“Lover?” she retorts with a sneering laugh. “More like a chauffeur, the way she always made him drive her home so early. She never gave him the time of the day.”

“Because?”

“Because she was a bitch,” Mina blurts out bitterly. “If it hadn’t been for her, he would’ve never crossed Maddog all those years ago and…” She pauses, as if trying to shake off her anger. “Doesn’t matter, ’cause he’s come back to be with me now. He won’t crawl back to her,” she mumbles unconvincingly. “Definitely a changed man.”

May I be excused? I promised my friend Mariana that we’ll do our homework together.

The girl who used to hang out at the KK’s bar.

The troubled one who couldn’t wait to get caught by her father.