To Sleep... Perchance to Die Read online

  Mai’s growing feeling of love for Jake was mixed with other emotions including ambivalence toward the men in her family and hatred for Larry. She couldn’t unravel the emotional twine wrapped around her.

  Mai’s two uncles accompanied them to America with the Lam clan’s admonition to protect Lam Jia and her family in their new environment. As important, they were to see that family honor was maintained. Mai’s uncles had their goal of creating business ties between the Hong Kong tong with which they were associated, and local Chinese underworld figures. Upon reaching San Francisco, the brothers urged continuing to New York City. For them, there were better business opportunities, and the Chinese settlement rivaled that of San Francisco.

  For a time the group lived in a two room apartment in New York’s Chinatown. When Mai’s father landed a job teaching Spanish and Portuguese at a Catholic high school on Staten Island, she and her parents moved to the borough. Her uncles remained in Manhattan, glad to have more privacy for their business dealings. They would not shirk their duty to family honor, and Mai had seen what they were capable of.

  Life on Staten Island proved idyllic for Mai. In her senior year of high school, she was a cheerleader, president of the student council, and prom queen while maintaining a high honors class ranking. The future was hers to grab.

  Upon graduation, she received a scholarship to NYU. Fate intervened. Jia became ill forcing Mai to forgo college and get a job to help support the family. She found an apartment in lower Manhattan and employment as a secretary at a Wall Street investment firm, the one where Larry Reid was on a fast track to becoming a partner.

  Larry walked by her desk one morning and introduced himself. Mai returned a demure hello, but pretended to be busy and ignored him. Shyness enticed men. She liked Larry’s looks, and he was going to be a wealthy man. After that first greeting, he disappeared from her life.

  One evening he phoned her at home. He’d been thinking of her, but had to be discreet regarding office relationships. There was rigid enforcement of the office non-fraternization policy. It was the reason he had avoided her at work. He asked for a date, and she accepted. It was the beginning of their love affair.

  Larry was exciting, a whirlwind, and she was caught in it. It was he who introduced her to the S and M side of lovemaking. She liked and encouraged it.

  Without warning, Larry began to exhibit a “Jekyll and Hyde” personality. He alternated from loving and caring to mean and demanding with the latter traits dominating. The sex degenerated. Larry insisted she be submissive. To insure she was, he slapped, punched, and hit her with a large buckled belt. Mean and degrading, it was not the S and M she enjoyed. The episodes ended in rough, painful intercourse. Bruises, lacerations, and swellings covered her body. Ashamed, as if it were her fault, she tried to hide her injuries with cosmetics and clothes and wouldn’t think of telling anyone what she was forced to endure.

  When Mai had attempted to break up with Larry, he threatened more violence. Although she had considered suicide, she didn’t have the courage. Had she been serious and jumped from the Circle Line ferry, there would have been poetic justice to being born on a boat and dying on one.

  Jake was the savior who turned her life around, and she was rewarding him by making him do something that violated every masculine value ingrained in him. It had to be done if they were to remain together. Jake loved her and would do what she wished.

  Two loves I have of comfort and despair …

  Friday afternoon, four hours before the end of the work week and the beginning of an off-duty weekend, Bret Manley was sitting at a table in a breakroom drinking coffee. Mentally, he was down and was trying to figure out why.

  For him, November in the Northeast was gloomy. Thanksgiving cheered him, but it wasn’t for another three weeks. He hadn’t been able to get home for the holidays since beginning training, and this year wouldn’t be different.

  Another problem was a lack of exercise that caused him to gain a few pounds. He played squash with Jake in the hospital courts two or three times a week, but his friend had been unavailable for a while. Bret didn’t like playing with anyone but Jake, so he opted to do nothing.

  The condition of the breakroom added to his woes. A wealthy hospital like Manhattan Memorial shouldn’t have ratty lounges filled with cheap furniture. Resident doctors and nurses deserved real utensils and ceramic cups instead of plastic and Styrofoam. Microwaves that worked. Coffee makers instead of containers of hot water and packets of instant coffee.

  Although he wouldn’t admit it, the underlying cause of his complaints was the lack of a date for the weekend. All his usual ladies were busy. Sorry state of affairs when you have no one who will change their plans for you. It may be time to stop in at the A and B and get to know Liz better.

  While Bret was holding an empty coffee cup and contemplating if he should expend the energy to get another, Jake Warden rushed into the room.

  “Hey, Bret. Been looking for you.”

  “Well, you found me. Good for you.” Sarcasm dripped from each word.

  Jake pulled the chair out across from Bret and chuckled, “Take it easy, boy. I’ve got something you’ll want to hear.”

  “Shoot,” was the curt reply as Bret tossed the cup into a bin. It missed and fell on the floor. He didn’t retrieve it.

  “You seem edgy. Bet you’re not getting enough sleep. It happens to all of us, you know. Part of the job. Ignore it.” Jake leaned on the table.

  “No, smart guy, I’m getting enough sleep. Just a little pissed, that’s all.”

  “Okay, okay, I believe you but won’t ask why.” Jake scanned the room. No one but Bret. “Listen up. Some of the actors are throwing a party tomorrow night, and they want us to come. It’s not far, the East 90’s.”

  Manhattan Memorial was frequented by a contingent of aspiring actors. The hospital had the reputation of catering to high society, and the actors wanted to be part of the ambiance. Both Jake and Bret treated many in the clinic and became friends with several.

  “Are you taking Rachel?”

  “Matter of fact, no. She’s in Boston for a few weeks visiting family. Preparing them for what’s to come, I guess. Anyway, I’m going, but alone.”

  Bret was hesitant, but asked, “Ahh, what about your new love that you told me about? Why don’t you take her?”

  Jake seemed at a loss for words. Replied, “Oh that? Been over for a while. Didn’t work out.”

  Bret was sorry. Jake had loved the woman he met on the ferry. That was obvious. He gave a sympathetic nod.

  “So,” Jake said, “What about you coming to the party?”

  “It’s only a day away. I wouldn’t go without a date, and not sure I can find someone for tomorrow.”

  Jake teased, “What happened to the famous Bret Manley fleet of women? I’ve been led to believe that the problem was choosing between a beautiful blond, brunette, or redhead.”

  Attempting to save face, “Don’t you worry, I can find someone if I really need to. In fact, before you came I was thinking of looking up the waitress at the A and B. The one that waited on us when we went there for a drink? You probably don’t remember her.”

  “How could I forget? The sexy one with the boobs.”

  “I guess you weren’t as drunk as I thought. In any event, I’d be lucky to wrangle her into going to the party with me. Probably swamped with dates when she’s not working. Guys gotta be hitting on her all the time.”

  Smiling, Jake said, “That’s what I wanted to tell you. A girl from back home recently moved here and looked me up. I’ve set you up with her for the party. When you see her, I promise, you’ll be happy I did.”

  Bret put both hands on the table, and looked at Jake. “No way you’re going to fix me up with some dog from back home.”

  Jake’s shrug of his shoulders and showing of his palms proclaimed he was not guilty of what Bret suggested. “You’re being ridiculous. Believe me. I’m telling the truth when I say she’s a beauty, an exo
tic beauty, and intelligent.”

  Since he had no one and nothing to do on Saturday, Bret agreed to Jake’s offer. He was curious . . . anxious . . . to meet the so-called exotic beauty.

  “Great,” Jake said, “Be at my place at seven. We’ll be waiting.”

  The woman opened the door and extended her hand in greeting. Bret took it and gave a gentle squeeze. She smiled, “Hi, you’re Dr. Bret Manley. I’m Mai Faca.” Holding onto his hand, she said, “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. Jake has said many nice things about you.”

  Bret couldn’t speak. The woman was exquisite. He had an instant mental image of himself as the Big Bad Wolf, jaw dropping to the floor, tongue unrolling about four feet, with more saliva flowing than from twelve rabid dogs. Jake’s reference to Mai as an exotic beauty was a bold understatement. She was the most exotic and most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

  When his voice returned, Bret squeaked, “Hi, it’s nice to meet you.” After another pause, he said in a macho voice, “Please, call me Bret.”

  “Okay, Bret, I will. Call me Mai.”

  Bret’s eyes were feasting on the tall, shapely woman . . . and those breasts. If Jake had asked about Liz of the “A and B”, he would have answered, “Liz, who?”

  Mai was wearing a black silk skirt with embroidered black flowers and a pale orange jersey that might have been painted on her. A dainty curl accented her brown hair, and it, in turn, accented her rosy skin. Her nose was small, her lips pouty, and her teeth perfect. All blended into a face and body that came as close to perfection as possible this side of Heaven.

  Reigning over all were light blue eyes under long lashes. They appeared otherworldly, and gave the impression of penetrating your skin like painless surgical lasers. While exchanging pleasantries, Bret tried to determine if Mai was wearing colored contacts. She wasn’t. Her eyes were a delightful surprise that added to her breathtaking beauty. It reminded him of a line in a poem, If I could write the beauty of your eyes ... He thanked the quantum randomness of the universe for allowing him to be with this woman.

  Jake approached and handed Bret a glass of wine. To Mai, he said, “Would you excuse us a moment?”

  “Of course,” she replied. Indicating her glass, “I could use a refill of this excellent wine.” She went to the kitchen.

  Bret couldn’t help gawking.

  Jake said, “Did I lie?”

  “No. No you didn’t. And get that shit-eating grin off your face.”

  Intending to drink at the party, they took a cab. Bret bombarded Mai with questions. She answered providing enough detail to satisfy his curiosity, yet not appear as if her responses were prepared. Jake listened without interrupting.

  “When I was a child,” she said, “my parents emigrated from Macao to Kent, Connecticut … I’m sure you know that’s where Jake’s from. They wanted to come to America, and dad was able to get a job teaching Spanish and Portuguese at the prep school there.”

  Attempting to keep his eyes from fixating on Mai’s body, Bret paid close attention to every word she spoke and concentrated on looking at her face.

  “I loved growing up in the Kent area. After graduating from the school where my father taught, I decided not to go to a traditional college. My mother had been diagnosed with severe fibromyalgia, and I wanted to remain close to home. Her illness was a financial strain on the family, and you know how expensive college is.”

  Mai glanced at Jake, then to Bret and continued her fabricated story. “I enrolled in a nearby community college and earned an associate’s degree in legal assisting. After graduation, I took a position in a small law firm in town and planned on staying there until I saved enough money to continue my education and get a degree in business. Assuming mother was feeling better, of course.”

  Every detail fascinated Bret.

  “I had been working for only a few months when my parents decided to return to Macao and spend their remaining years with family. Their decision had to do with my mom’s declining health. The fibromyalgia was getting worse, and she wanted to see her family before anything happened. Prior to leaving the country, they gave me a small inheritance. It was what they were able to afford.”

  As they transited Manhattan’s Upper 80’s, Bret pointed out that they were in one of the fun parts of the city. Referred to as Germantown, it was safe and clean. Heavy German influence ensured a plethora of bakeries and biergartens. “I’d like to show you the area, sometime.”

  “I’d love that,” Mai said.

  The trio reached their destination and conversation was put on hold. The address was a three-story brick building without an elevator. Irregular vertical cracks in the exterior gave it an out of kilter appearance. Creaky stairs led to the top floor.

  As expected, the event was a blast. There was a wall-to-wall crowd with most of the guests holding glasses in one hand, and various types of cigarettes in the other. Loud music made for loud talking. A generalized din similar to traffic on a busy highway permeated the apartment.

  Classic posters of Katherine Hepburn, Cary Grant, Marilyn Monroe, and others papered every wall. Most in attendance considered themselves actors. Few could be credited with more than a bit part in movies or theater, yet they partied like academy award winners.

  In spite of the conversational difficulties because of the noise, Bret was driven to learn as much as possible about his date.

  Mai doled out snippets of information, each planned to fit into a complete Mai Faca history as pieces of a puzzle contribute to the whole. “I wanted to expand my admittedly limited life experience and decided to move to New York City. Friends suggested I look up Dr. Warden who was in New York completing his dental surgery training. I had never met him . . . he was seven years older than me . . . but I was familiar with his reputation as a stellar athlete in high school. Kent people still speak of his achievements.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Bret said. He didn’t like her talking about Jake.

  “Before leaving, I found out where he was training and called him. I introduced myself and said I very much wanted to come to New York. I had no place to live and only a little money. Jake said he would help with finding an apartment, but his wife mustn’t know about it. They’re having marital problems, as you’re aware, and she wouldn’t understand his intentions were honorable. We found a place in lower Manhattan. The rent was doable if I found a job. Otherwise, I could live there until my money ran out.”

  “What would you do if that happened?” Bret asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe go back to my old job in Kent. On the other hand, I might find my Prince Charming here in the City. One thing is sure, because of his dicey marital situation, I can’t ask much more of Jake.”

  Bret saw himself as that Prince Charming. He had difficulty trusting Jake’s motives. How would he have reacted if in the midst of a bad marriage, a beautiful and vulnerable woman arrived in the city and asked for his help? Would his intentions have been honorable? He doubted his own altruism, but gave Jake the benefit of the doubt regarding his.

  At 1 a.m. the party was going strong. Mai said she was tired and wanted to leave. Bret agreed, but Jake decided to remain saying there was nothing he had to rush home to. Bret assumed he would escort Mai to her place in lower Manhattan. If he was lucky, she would invite him in for coffee.

  In the cab, Bret was about to ask Mai where she lived when she turned to the driver and said, “York and East 56th, please.”

  Bret’s penis realized before his brain she had given the driver his address. She’s planning to spend the night at my place.

  With an impish grin, she turned to him, “Is that okay with you?”

  Trying to sound as if it was normal for a woman to return to his apartment after a date, he heard himself saying, “Of course. No problem.” Like a man at a funeral service when he discovers all his Powerball numbers match, it took great effort to keep from jumping up and down in the seat.

  In bed, Mai was a sexual dominatrix. Supple as a
cat and graceful as a gymnast, she was able to contort her body into positions he would have sworn impossible. She brought him to and kept him at the height of ecstasy until he could stand no more and exploded in her. For a man who would have settled for being in her company, the sex proved an unimaginable bonus. Exhausted from the after-party activities, Bret fell into a deep and restful sleep. When he awoke, Mai was gone. A note on the nightstand read, I’ll call you.

  With note in hand and at warp speed, he ran barefooted down the two flights to Jake’s apartment. He put his ear to the door and listened. Hearing noise, he knocked with force that hurt his knuckles. No response. He knocked a second time.

  The door opened a few inches. Jake had a glare on his face. “What the hell do you want?”

  Suspecting someone was with Jake, Bret tried to look into the apartment.

  Jake blocked his view, saying, “This really isn’t a good time.”

  Since Rachel was out of town, Bret figured Jake had hooked up with a woman from the party. Given the noises, there was a good chance he interrupted their lovemaking. Shoving his bare foot between the door and the jamb, he handed the note to Jake. “Here.”

  Bret gambled Jake wouldn’t close the door on him. If his foot was injured, he couldn’t do his job, and it would mean extra work for Jake. After Jake took the note and read it, Bret removed his foot. The door closed followed by the sound of the lock.

  Bret waited. It was five minutes before Jake returned and tossed the crumbled note to him. “Nothing to worry about. If she didn’t like you, she wouldn’t have left this. She’ll call you.”

  Bret said, “Let me have her cell number. I’ll call her.”