Flinch shrugged. “I just figured …”
“What? He’s Chinese so he must own a Chinese restaurant? Man, that is so racist. If Lucky’s uncle had a business, would you assume it was a pizzeria? What about you? If your uncle had a restaurant, would it be a rib joint?” Cheater spat out the last words, then grabbed his face and groaned.
“Hey, sorry,” Flinch said.
I looked around, worried that someone would hear the shouting, but there was nobody in sight. That was good. I didn’t want anyone to know where we were going.
Cheater led us over to Chinatown, and then down a crowded, narrow street to a two-story whitewashed brick building. I could see red paper lanterns through the window, and all sorts of strips of paper on the walls with Chinese writing. The familiar aroma of egg rolls in hot oil mingled with other tantalizing scents. As we went inside, Flinch said, “Hey, is this your uncle’s place?”
Cheater nodded. “Uncle Ray. He’s great. He’s not my real uncle. He’s my father’s best friend. I’ve known him as long as I can remember.”
Flinch pointed to the rows of small tables, covered with platters of steaming food. “But you said it wasn’t a restaurant.”
“Nope. I said it was racist for you to assume it was a restaurant.”
Before they could argue any further, we were interrupted by an old guy in a tan shirt and gray suit who rushed over from the register.
“Dennis,” the man said. “Are you hurt? What happened to your face?”
“I’m okay, Uncle Ray,” Cheater said. He pointed at us. “These are my friends. I was hoping we could stay here for a day or two.”
“Are you trying to get away from your brother?”
Cheater nodded. “You know how he is. With the folks on their trip, he thinks of me as his personal servant. So, can we hang out here?”
“Of course. You’re welcome anytime. The spare apartment is empty.” He pulled a key ring from his pocket, slipped off one of the keys, and handed it to Cheater.
Cheater led us back outside, and then in again through a narrow door next to the restaurant that opened right to a flight of stairs. There were four apartments on the second floor. Cheater unlocked the first door on the right and we followed him in. The place had three bedrooms, a bathroom, a living room, and a kitchen. There were two couches, a dinner table, and a couple easy chairs in the living room. We all collapsed into the cushions.
If I didn’t have to move again for the rest of my life, I’d be happy. I just wanted to sink down so deep nobody could find me. Everyone looked totally exhausted. I waited for someone to talk, but nobody else said a word. Finally, I broke the silence. “I never saw a dead person before.”
“Me either,” Martin said.
“I saw my grandfather at his funeral,” Flinch said. “No blood …”
“It’s like a candle,” Cheater said. He blew a hard puff of air. “Poof. Gone.”
There was another silence. I could tell that nobody wanted to talk about it. That was okay. There’d be time later.
After a while, Cheater dashed into the kitchen and came back with a deck of cards. “Anyone want to play?”
“With you?” I shook my head. “We might as well leave the cards face up.”
“How about slap jack?” Flinch said.
“Only if you play with your eyes closed.” I slid the deck out of Cheater’s hands, one card at a time, and piled it back up on the table. Then I formed pairs into supports and started building a house of cards. Somehow, it seemed appropriate.
“This is great,” Torchie said. “We’re together again. I wish I could play some music.” He picked up his accordion and gave it a squeeze. It let out a sigh and a puff of air. I watched the cards topple over. He put down the accordion, then pulled the FME thing out of his pocket and pushed a button. It whirred. “At least I’ve still got this.”
“Could you do that someplace else,” Martin asked. “The sound is giving me a headache.”
“Sure.” Torchie went off to the kitchen. Mingled with the whirs and chirps of the device, his voice drifted out to the living room. “This is really great.”
“Yeah, it’s great and all,” I said. “But the one guy who can help us is dead, our friend has been kidnapped by a psycho, and we don’t have a clue what to do.”
“Not yet,” Martin said. “But when has being clueless ever stopped us?”
I walked over to the window and looked out at Chinatown. I didn’t know if it was good or bad that we put people into categories like this, but right now I was glad I had a place to be, even if I wasn’t really a part of that place. Cheater came and stood next to me.