Chapter 12

12

The minivan is unnaturally quiet as it travels along the highway to Kuningan, where the Ritz is located. I’ve always loved South Jakarta, with the Sudirman Central Business District and Kuningan areas—they are easily two of the most beautiful and modern parts of the city. Growing up in LA, friends have often asked me what Indonesia is like. Most of them see it as this National Geographic–esque place where the people live in shacks made of corrugated metal or bamboo huts. A place without electricity or running water. I always wished I could whisk them to Kuningan, or the SCBD, because then they’d see that Jakarta is even more modernized than LA is. Every time I visit Jakarta, there’s a handful of newly built skyscrapers, all of them shiny structures of steel and glass. The skyline never stays still in Jakarta. There is so much development going on all the time.

But now I’m unable to enjoy any of the scenery. As I gaze out of the window, all I can think of is how much danger we’re in, and how we’re about to willingly go into yet more danger. The skyscrapers around us cease to be beautiful. Now they just look menacing. We’re entangled with such powerful people. These people probably own many of the towering buildings we’re passing by. I feel miniscule, a tiny ant going up against Goliath.

As though reading my mind, Nathan puts his hand over mine, reassuringly big and warm, and gives me a small smile. For his sake, I try to smile back, though I can feel that it doesn’t reach my eyes. My cheeks tremble at the effort it’s taking for me to hold the smile.

Ma and the aunts aren’t talking either, and for once in my life, I wish that they were. Their nagging and constant bickering always gets on my nerves, but their anxious silence is so much worse. Big Aunt looks small and deflated. Her face looks so worn, like she’s aged ten years in the course of a single day. My heart twists painfully at the sight of her looking so vulnerable.

“Hey, Big Aunt.” I reach out and pat her arm. What I really want to do is give her hand a reassuring squeeze, but our family isn’t really into hand-holding and hugs. We’re more into subtle arm and shoulder pats. “You okay?”

Immediately, she stiffens, her chin hardening as she sits up straight. “Yes, of course, Meddy. Why you ask such silly question?”

“Uh.” I should’ve known better than to show concern. Now I’m in trouble with Big Aunt.

“Of course I okay. Why I not okay?” she continues. “Enjelin know how to looking after herself, she be okay. Hah,” she snorts. “She probably nagging everyone to do the Tai Chi right now, ya kan?”

It strikes me then that despite all of the friction between her and Second Aunt, Big Aunt is scared to death for Second Aunt’s safety. My breath hitches and tears fill my eyes because I really need Second Aunt to be okay too. I force a small smile and nod at her. “Yeah, I can totally see Second Aunt convincing them to do Tai Chi.” This time, I do reach out for Big Aunt’s hand. She starts a little, but I give her hand a firm squeeze before letting go.

Meanwhile, Ma and Fourth Aunt keep their eyes firmly on their hands, though once in a while, they exchange furtive glances with each other. The back of my neck prickles. Something’s going on between the two of them. I frown as I try to work out what it could possibly be, but my mind comes up blank. I can’t think of anything the two of them could want to hide from Big Aunt. And maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe I’m just being paranoid.

“Here we are,” Abi announces as the car pulls up at the lobby of the Ritz. In keeping with the modern skyscrapers around it, the hotel looks like it’s been built entirely out of glass, like a giant greenhouse filled with humongous towers of tropical flowers, complete with a waterfall that’s visible from out here. Despite myself, I’m impressed.

But before we can get out, Big Aunt shakes her head. “No, you need to go to back of hotel. Service entrance.”

“Oh.” Abi nods. “Yes, of course. Sorry, I didn’t even think of that.”

The car starts up again, going around to the back of the hotel, where it’s markedly less impressive. There’s an empty lot with a sign that says: “Reserved for Delivery. Do NOT loiter. Do NOT park here. Drop-offs only.”

There’s a van waiting outside the back door and a handful of people walking in and out, carting huge boxes from the hotel into their van. The van is shiny black with the words “Ritz Catering” painted on the sides. Abi instructs the driver to park next to the black van. Big Aunt takes a deep breath, and before us, her whole demeanor changes from somber to elated, her body inflating once more. It’s quite the transformation. She climbs out of the minivan crying out, “Rahman. Tommy. Hallo!”

The caterers pause and look up, and all of their faces break into joyful grins. “Mami Friya!” they shout, hurriedly loading up the boxes before rushing over and enveloping Big Aunt in a tight group hug.

It’s wonderfully heartwarming to see such a beautiful reception for Big Aunt, who is no doubt deserving of all this affection. We’re all smiling as we climb out of the minivan. Abi mutters something about staying in the car so as not to bring any attention to himself, which is probably for the best.

We stand aside, wanting to give them space for their emotional reunion. The caterers call out into the doorway, and more caterers run out, their eyes widening, their mouths splitting into laughter as they see Big Aunt. Without hesitation, they all run up and hug her. Watching Big Aunt in her element, like a mother hen surrounded by clucking, loving chicks, is like chicken soup for my withered soul.

“I can’t believe it,” I say. “It’s been decades since Big Aunt lived and worked here, right? And they all still remember her.”

“Oh, they will have pass down the legend of the Big Aunt,” Ma says, with a confident smile. “And she still Zoom call them from time to time.”

And when Nathan retrieves the cakes that Big Aunt has made from the trunk of our minivan, the caterers break out into an excited cheer.

“Ah, Mami Friya, there is truly nothing better than your mocha velvet cake,” one of them says.

“I’ve made enough for one hundred people,” Big Aunt says with false modesty, “and also for all of you, of course. Here, help yourselves. I set some aside in a Tupperware for you kids. You work so hard, you have to eat more.”

The caterers cheer and crowd around the Tupperware, all of them reaching for a piece of cake with enthusiasm. As they eat, one of them asks, “What brings you here, Mami? Not that we’re not overjoyed to see you, of course, but it’s a surprise to hear that you want to join this catering event.”

“Oh, I’ve missed the hustle and bustle of catering to an Indonesian event.” Big Aunt’s eyes sparkle. “We do plenty of events in LA, but there’s nothing quite like an Indonesian event, is there?”

They laugh and nod. “Well, it’s a treat to have you on board, that’s for sure.”

Big Aunt’s smile wavers as she prepares for what is no doubt the big ask. “Ah, and this is my family. Natasya and Mimi, my sisters. Meddy, my niece, and Nathan, my nephew-in-law.”

We all smile and try our best to look as unthreatening as we can. I’m glad Abi decided to stay in the minivan, because I have no idea how he would have come across to this wholesome group of people, especially with his full-body tattoo and his fearsome expression. The caterers wave and beam at us, and for a minute, we all exchange pleasantries with one another before it becomes obvious that they’re confused as to why we’re here.

“It’s been so nice getting to know your family, Mami,” one of them says, apparently the new head caterer now that Big Aunt is no longer working there. “We do need to get going . . .”

“Oh, ah—” Big Aunt clears her throat before barreling ahead. “I was wondering if it would be possible for my family to tag along? We run a catering business ourselves back in LA, and I’ve been really looking forward to showing them how things are done in Indonesia. We want to learn from all of you.”

The head caterer cackles like this is the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “Aduh, Mami. No way! Learn from us? Why would they want to do that when they can learn from the best? Everything we know how to do here, we learned from you, Mami.”

Big Aunt laughs weakly, clearly trying to find some other way of pushing us into the catering group. “That’s very kind of you, but I’m getting old, and I’m forgetting a lot of what I had learned from my years here. I would really appreciate it if you could fit us all in.”

“We won’t get in your way, I promise,” I pipe up. “We’re really good at staying unnoticed in the background.”

The mood shifts, turning uneasy. The smiles have mostly melted away, replaced with uneasy grimaces. “Oh, I . . . I don’t know, it’s against our safety and hygiene protocols,” the head caterer says. “You know how it is. Even taking just you along is technically a breach of our protocol, but I was okay with it since it’s—you know—you. But taking on more people . . .”

“Forget it!” Fourth Aunt shouts all of a sudden. Heads whip around to stare at her, and she waves a casual hand at them. “Don’t worry about it. We knew it was a big ask. Hey, it’s just really awesome to be able to meet all of you. My big sis, she talks so much about you. You’re all like family to us.” She gives them a wide grin, eyes shining, and throws her arms around two unsuspecting caterers, who smile back hesitantly. “In fact, I’m so happy to finally see you guys that I propose a toast!”

“A toast?” someone says.

“Yes. I’ve prepared a special drink—lots of herbs and such—here we go.” She takes out a large bottle from her handbag, along with plastic cups, and hands one to each caterer. Before they can protest, she goes around and pours each one a generous serving, tittering smoothly as she goes, like a hostess at a karaoke lounge whose job is to get patrons drunk so they spend more money on food and drinks. She does this with such panache, her movements bewitchingly smooth, her voice modulated into a perfect, bubbly pitch, that no one thinks to resist her charms.

No one but me, that is. Because my senses have stood up and are ringing all of the alarm bells inside me. Oh no, please don’t let it be what I think it might be. They wouldn’t do that. They wouldn’t—oh, who am I kidding? Ma and Fourth Aunt would 100 percent do what I think they’ve done.

Right then, the caterers raise their glasses and say, “To Mami Friya’s health!”

I move forward, my mouth already forming the word “No,” but I might as well be moving in slow motion. And before I can say anything, Ma’s hand shoots out, quick as a hunting octopus, and grabs my arm. She gives a small shake of the head. My mouth drops open, my face frozen in horror, as the caterers down their drinks.

They wince like people do when they’ve just taken a shot of fiery tequila. “Whoo whee,” the head caterer says. “That’s quite . . . something.”

“Wow, yeah, that tasted really sharp,” one of the other caterers says.

“You’ll get used to it after a while,” Fourth Aunt says.

I stand there, frozen, my mouth half-open in horror. What do I do? It’s too late to do anything. But it also feels so wrong to not say anything. My mouth is opening and closing and opening again, like a fish stranded on land. Ma is staring hard at the caterers, a myriad of expressions warring on her face—worry, guilt, hope. We stand there, not saying anything as Fourth Aunt engages the caterers in some banal conversation about the weather. How does Fourth Aunt remain so cool after—after roofie-ing these poor people?

Minutes pass, and the head caterer suddenly falters mid-sentence. She takes a step forward, blinking hard.

Big Aunt is still standing there, looking confused, when the head caterer’s eyes droop ever so slightly and her face goes slack. I hold my breath. Next to her, the other caterers are having similar reactions, as though the lights inside them have dimmed. Are they all going to pass out? Oh god. This is so wrong. I pull my arm out of Ma’s grip and rush to the nearest caterer, a young man in his twenties.

“Hey, you okay?” I say, shaking his arm.

He slowly turns to face me and blinks. His eyes blink at different times. Slowly, his mouth stretches into a joyous expression. “Whoa, dude. I feel gooooood.”

I whip round to face Ma, incandescent with rage. “I can’t believe you did this, Ma.”

Ma wrings her hands. “I just—I don’t—”

“Calm down, Meddy, we’re just showing them a good time,” Fourth Aunt says smartly. Already, she’s put one arm around a caterer and is leading him into Abi’s minivan. “Come on, let’s bundle you up in the van. Don’t want to be late for your event, do you?”

“No,” the caterer agrees. “Ish an impor—impor ish a big ’un.”

As I gape in powerless horror, Fourth Aunt bundles him into the minivan, then goes for the next caterer, ushering her in with a soothing voice. I turn to Nathan, who is gaping at Fourth Aunt and Ma like he’s seeing them for the first time. Shame shoots through my entire being. What he must think of my family right now.

When Nathan catches me looking, he schools his expression into something more neutral. “Well, your mom and aunt are . . . doing their best?” he says.

“They just drugged these people,” I hiss.

Nathan nods slowly. “Yeah . . .” He swallows, then takes Ma aside. “Ma, ah . . . can I ask, what was in that drink? I just want to make sure that there’s nothing dangerous in it.”

“Aduh, of course nothing dangerous,” Ma says. “Aiya, better don’t ask such questions lah. You kids don’t understand, we have to get Erjie back!” Her voice cracks then, and she glares at us through her tears. “We do anything to get her back.” Though her voice is slightly wobbly, the desperate strength behind it is clear.

“Oh, Ma.” I go to her and put my arms around her frail shoulders. “We’ll get her back. I promise. Just—please don’t drug anyone again, okay?”

Big Aunt is standing there staring as Abi and his driver carry the caterers and load them up into his minivan. It takes a while for her to regain her voice, and when she finally does, it comes out hoarse and wobbly, barely louder than a whisper. “I—you—you drug my chefs.”

“It’s okay, Dajie,” Fourth Aunt quickly says, linking her arm through Big Aunt’s. “We had to do it. They were never going to allow us all to tag along as part of their team, don’t you see? We would’ve been back on square one, with just you getting inside Kristofer’s house, the rest of us stuck outside, and what good is that going to do?”

Big Aunt takes a shuddery breath, looking unconvinced.

“And Sanjie is right,” Fourth Aunt continues. If I weren’t so shocked myself right now, I would be surprised by the fact that Fourth Aunt just agreed openly with Ma. “Our priority is to save Erjie. Nothing else matters. We would do anything for her. Anything!”

That seems to do the trick. Big Aunt nods slowly, her lips thinning into a firm line. She looks like she’s regained some of her resolve. “Please—” she calls out to Abi, who’s grunting as he lifts one of the caterers over one shoulder. Big Aunt hesitates for a second, emotions warring on her lined face. “Be careful. Don’t hurt them.”

“Yep, don’t hurt them, got it,” Abi huffs, out of breath, right before he carelessly drops the caterer onto the seat of his minivan. The caterer’s head lolls forward, the momentum causing his upper body to sag forward, and we all squeak and rush toward the poor guy, pushing him back upright.

God, could this whole thing feel any shittier? I feel like the worst kind of human right now. Despicable, awful. I couldn’t possibly feel any crappier than I do in this moment.

Then Fourth Aunt opens her mouth and proves me wrong.

“Right. Now we just gotta undress them.” Ignoring Big Aunt’s, Nathan’s, and my horrified expressions, Fourth Aunt winks at us. “Don’t you worry, I’ve got plenty of experience undressing people.”

Sure enough, it seems like only moments later, Fourth Aunt starts flinging pieces of clothing in our direction. Nathan catches the first one—a chef’s jacket—and almost drops it with a shiver. “It’s still warm.” He grimaces as he holds it up.

The mention of the warmth unnerves me. I get a flash of Ah Guan’s body, remaining warm for hours after we thought he had died. Before I can react, a pair of pants scythes through the air and smacks me right in the face. “Argh!” I bat them away frantically, as though they were a cobweb that I just walked into. Nathan bends over and picks them up.

“Last piece,” Fourth Aunt calls out, and flings an apron at us. “That set should fit you, Nathan.” She winks again before moving to the next caterer.

The flurry of uniforms flies out of the minivan in a steady stream, Nathan and I doing our best to catch them all before they fall to the ground. Before we’re even done gathering all of the clothes, Fourth Aunt climbs out of the van, wipes her brow with flourish, and spreads her arms with a wide grin. “Ta-da! Uniforms for everyone. You’re welcome.”

Are we supposed to applaud her? My mind warbles wildly at me. I suppose, as macabre as this whole thing is, Fourth Aunt has technically done something extremely vital, and she’s right. We now have uniforms and can finally get into Kristofer’s house to save Second Aunt.

Second Aunt. Right. Second Aunt, who is in the clutches of people who go around snatching little middle-aged ladies from their front lawns. The thought of this bolsters me. I can’t lose sight of the true purpose here: saving Second Aunt. It’s not about getting rid of a dead body this time, or outwitting the mafia. It’s about saving one of our own. And, I realize with a sudden rush of fierce love, Ma and Fourth Aunt are right. I would do absolutely anything to save any one of them. Drugging an entire catering company and putting on their uniforms? That’s nothing compared to the lengths I would go to when push comes to shove.

My grip on the uniform in my hands tightens. “Thank you, Fourth Aunt. I’ll go change now.” I stride around to the other side of the van for some modicum of privacy without looking back at Nathan. I can’t bear the thought of looking at him and seeing disapproval, or worse still, disappointment. I’m not a good person. I’m not as kind as him, as giving, as pure, as—

“Mind if I join you?”

I startle, my shirt already halfway unbuttoned. Nathan stands before me with a crooked half smile.

“So, this is kind of . . . out there, huh?” He starts unbuttoning his own shirt.

“Yeah.” I focus on taking off my shirt, unable to meet his eye. I feel so ashamed for dragging him into yet another of my family’s messes.

“You okay?” He takes off his shirt, and now he’s standing before me with his stupidly perfect abs on full display.

I take a deep breath and avoid looking at his abs because they’re so distracting. This is the time to do it. I have to say this. I have to give him an out. “You can sit this one out. I won’t hold it against you.”

“What? Meddy, look at me.” His eyes are somber, his jaw clenched, but—I realize with a start—not with anger. With worry. A lump forms in my throat. “Hey, we’re a family now. And you and your aunts—you’re exactly the kind of family I have always wanted to have. The kind of family that would burn down the world to protect one another. Do you realize what a privilege it is to be included in your family?”

It’s as though he’s just given my lungs permission to breathe. Air sparkles through my body, bringing it back to life. Tears sting my eyes. “I just didn’t want you to—we’re always dragging you into these dangerous situations—”

“And I know that if I were to one day be kidnapped while doing Tai Chi, you’d rain down hellfire on everyone and everything to save me.” Nathan pulls me close, and I bury my face in his chest, inhaling the warm, comforting scent of him. “We’re going to be okay, Meds. We’ll get in there, we’ll find your aunt, and we’ll get out and—I don’t know—repay these poor caterers somehow, and then we’ll be out of here, and this whole thing will be the best dinner party story ever. Can you imagine the Johnsons’ faces when we tell them about this?”

Somehow, he’s always able to make me laugh, even in the worst moments. “I don’t know, I’m sure Bryce would come up with some scandalous story to top it off.”

Nathan snorts. “He can try.” He shrugs on the chef’s jacket and buttons it up before spreading his arms. “How do I look?”

“Annoyingly sexy. How do you make even this shapeless outfit look good?”

“Talent, baby.” He winks.

“Gross,” I laugh. But when I’ve shed my clothes and put on a caterer’s uniform myself, I look down and think that yeah, maybe this will work after all, and we’ll be back in LA before we know it, trading stories with our friends over dinner.