Page 38 of I Did Something Bad
“Tyler, you worry about me?” I say, feigning sentimentality. Although, if I’m being honest, Iamslightly touched. Just slightly. He seems to be gauging whether I’m asking a serious question or not.Feeling nice, I let him off the hook. “Or are you trying to get an invite to my park orgy?” I ask. “You know, tit for tat. ItisRSVP only, though. We keep it discreet.”
There’s that mouth twitch once more, and this time, it’s out of control. “You’re asking if I’m trading brunch with my parents for a park orgy with you?”
“Are you?”
“Will there be refreshments?”
“Not included, I’m afraid. Too many logistics as it is. But you can bring your own booze with no additional corkage fees!”
“Damn,” he says with a heavy sigh. “I’m afraid I’ll sit this one out, then. Brunch, on the other hand,doesinclude drinks. For free.”
Despite this gratifying back-and-forth, I’d already made up my mind as soon as Tyler asked the question: Nope, thanks but no thanks. Because why would I agree to have Sunday brunch with Tyler Tun and his family? I am overworked and exhausted and I miss my couch. Besides, what would Clarissa say if word got out that I had a meal with his parents and aunts and uncles who flew in from out of town?
I’m about to point out as much when I stop and think.Actually,she’d probably think that was a prime opportunity to find out more about him. Who is he when he’s not on set? Who is he around his parents?
Find out his favorite dim sum dish,I hear Clarissa clairvoyantly insisting.
“You’re not worried your mom will spill some huge family secret about you that’ll make its way intoVogue?” I ask, half teasing, half not.
He shakes his head, fingers raking through dark brown hair that doesn’t have to be done up for the next thirty-six hours. It’s starting to get floppy in front, and I wonder when his last haircut was. “Obviously, I’ll prep her beforehand,” he replies. “Besides, I’d like you to meet Jess. I think you guys will get along.”
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” I ask, wondering how much time he’s spent thinking about me and his sister hanging out together (and why).
“Because considering the amount of time and energy the two of you put into it, it would appear that you both are pursuing doctorate degrees in how to antagonize me. So, you know, there’s at leastonecommon interest. I’m sure you’ll find others, too.”
Despite myself, fresh, delighted laughter bursts out of me, and he grins back. “But… what if people see us?” I ask, a new, more crucial reason to turn down his offer occurring to me. “What if the police find out? Won’t it look like we’re colluding outside of work hours?”
He pauses, and resolves it with a chuckle. “It’s just brunch, Khin. It’ll look like we’re two coworkers having brunch on the weekend.”
I’m too anxious to be entirely convinced, but on the other hand, this could be a potential gold mine for my story. “And you’re… really okay with this?” I ask to double-check.
“Yeah. It’ll be fun.”
This isn’t right. Something is off. I am aware that it feels ridiculous-bordering-on-paranoid to say that this feels like a trap, but it feels like a trap. Or a trick. How could the biggest movie star in the worldnotbe wary about inviting a journalist to brunch with his family? And on his one day off? This feels like the type of damage-control setup your publicist arranges because someone just leaked a secret voice recording of you going off on a racist tirade.
Maybe heisworried about you,I fleetingly think.
Or more likely,another voice perks up,he wants to keep a close eye on you so he can keep making sure he knows everything you know.
That has to be it. He doesn’t want a repeat of the park incident. What was it that he’d said?Guess we’re always watching each other.If he wants to watch over me this badly, then I’m at least going to twist this to my advantage.
“May will also be there,” he adds. “If that… I dunno, makes a difference either way?”
It does, actually. I haven’t gotten a chance to get to know Mayoutside of work, and I wanted part of the profile to include her reflections on their friendship. Maybe I can tease out some of that tomorrow.
“Text me the details,” I say.
“You don’t think they’ll think it’s weird that we drove over together?” I mumble as I back into a parking spot in the basement garage of The Dumpling Dealer. It’s one of the oldest (and best) dim sum restaurants in the city, but it recently moved to a new location with more space. Despite its new, more central and trendy-ish location, however, the menu has more or less stayed the same since my childhood, and my stomach is already craving their crystal shrimp dumplings.
“I can’t exactly get a cab now, can I?” he replies over thebeep beep beepof the car’s backup camera. “Besides, carpooling is good for the environment.”
“Didn’t you fly here on a private jet?”
“All the more reason for me to play my part in saving the earth.”
“How about May?” I ask while I use my rearview mirror to reapply my lip gloss. “Why didn’t you carpool with her?” I put the gloss back in my purse and rearrange my curtain bangs.
“Because she’s a terrible backseat driver, and, more importantly, she was at her sister’s house on the other side of town. I would’ve used more gas going to get her first,” he replies. I’m giving my bangs one final touch-up when I detect him looking at me. He’s chewing his bottom lip; when I worry my lip like that, I’m trying to hold myself back from saying something that I’ll most likely regret later.
