Page 3 of Worth Fighting For

“Hi, Baba.” I settle on the sofa in his expansive office.

Baba walks over to a drinks tray next to the window and pours us each a drink.

“Bit early to start on the drinks, isn’t it?” I say.

“Ah, but we have so many good reasons to imbibe.” He brings over the two glasses of amber liquid and sets one in front of me. “Number one, this is the best whiskey I’ve ever had, and I know you’re a whiskey fan as well.”

I’m about to protest when Baba holds up two fingers. “Number two,” he continues, “I can see from your face that you’ve come in here ready for a battle, and I like to soften my opponents up.”

I laugh. “Baba, I’m not your opponent.”

“Ah, you are correct. You’re an even more formidable figure than an opponent. You are my daughter.”

I roll my eyes but pick up my glass anyway and clink it with my dad’s. “Okay, Baba, you win.”

He grins. “Don’t tell your mother about the morning whiskey.”

“Sorry, but you know I am firmly on Team Mom.”

Baba gives a dramatic sigh. “Ah, the bane of a father with no sons to rely on.” There it is again, that small jab to the heart. Does he mean it when he says things like this?

“Poor you,” I say dryly. I take a small sip of my drink, and I have to admit that Baba was right; it really is the best whiskey I’ve ever had, and I’ve had plenty of whiskeys in years past. “Wow. What is this?”

Baba gives me a sly smile. “Wutai Gold Reserve.”

I groan. “Ba, you’re not going to sway me with how it tastes. Their numbers are a mess.”

He merely takes another sip. “Drink up, then we will talk.”

CHAPTER TWO

Ever since I can remember, Baba and I have always had a special bond. When I was upset or scared or sick as a child, I would ask for Mama, wanting nothing more than to lie in her embrace and feel her soft hands stroking my hot forehead. And even now, I’m still very close to Ma, still see her as the source of comfort and love.

My connection with Baba, on the other hand, is something different. We are, at our cores, the same person—our sense of humor, the way we see the world and digest information, and the way we interact with other people are so similar that my mother often describes us as two parts of the same soul. She often says this with an exasperated smile when Baba and I are caught in cahoots yet again, like the time we both separately kept sneaking into the kitchen to steal slices of the crispy roast pork belly she was letting rest, until there were only two little pieces left before dinner.

Even our special bond, however, does not mean that Baba and I see eye to eye on everything. Unfortunately, Wutai Gold is one of the few things we do not see eye to eye on.

“What about the fact that their customer base is rapidly aging?” I say now. I realize dimly that I’m more than halfway through my first glass of whiskey and can feel the amber liquid burning a hole in my empty stomach. Breakfast was a bottle of green juice I’d grabbed out of the fridge before rushing out of the house, and that was over four hours ago. I need to stop sipping the whiskey; otherwise I’m going to be too tipsy for this conversation. With some effort, I place my glass down and will myself to focus on the tablet screen, on which I’ve pulled up a list of reasons not to buy out Wutai Gold.

“The product is of such high quality,” Baba replies, taking a deep inhale of his whiskey. A slow smile spreads across his face and he shakes his head. “Ah, what a scent.”

“Ba, focus,” I scold, but I can’t help meeting his smile. Baba has the best smile in the whole of the Bay Area. Once, when I was back visiting from college, he got a speeding ticket. After a friendly chat, the officer let him off with a warning and said, “That smile will get you out of trouble every time, sir!” People have told me that I have a similar smile, but mine is nowhere near as irresistible as his. He’s basically Asian Santa.

“Mulan, it’s like I always told you, quality shines through. This is true whiskey, lovingly crafted. It’s only a matter of getting the product out there. Once people find out about it, it’ll fly off the shelves.”

“Actually, it’s no longer about the product anymore. It’s about its presence on the market. It’s why junk food sells. The product isn’t good, everyone knows it isn’t good—heck, it’s even called junk, for goodness’ sake. The most important thing is market presence. And Wutai Gold doesn’t have it, Ba.”

He looks at me, and I could swear he’s trying not to smile. His eyes are twinkling with obvious affection. “You’re right that marketing is very important, and so far, Wutai Gold hasn’t spent much on it at all. It’s part of my strategy to increase its worth. We’re going to do some restructuring. We also have special expertise when it comes to publicity and marketing, something Wutai Gold doesn’t have, so we’ll be adding definite value there.”

“Speaking of value, their company is way overvalued.”

“I thought you might have something to say about that.”

“Their numbers are stupidly optimistic and I have no idea what they’re basing them on, because their sales numbers have been falling steadily.”

“Yes,” he agrees, “they are on the more optimistic side. I believe they are basing the numbers off the company’s potential.”

I release a long, frustrated sigh. “Yes, the whiskey is delicious, I’ll give you that. But aside from that, I don’t see any potential here.”Am I being too harsh?I check myself, going over every word I’ve said. It’s a habit of mine, watching myself, monitoring, making sure I don’t put a foot wrong and disappoint my parents.

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