Paint the Dragon

By James N. Gabor

Early Twenty-First Century Shanghai China all the world is watching, as fate would have it some things are as they were in the late 1800s, , but with a modern twist. US Marshals, International Business Deals, a staging for the Coming New World Order in one of the Orients Busiest Sea Ports, , , add in time to enjoy a fine Shanghai-nighters hot spot Lisa Sannder a young 20-something cocky attorney from the Mid-West USA, is on the ride of her life, complete with a college dont wanna grow-up life style, , , 'cept for now shes making Big-Bucks, laying her life on the line Enter best friend Susan Wilamsen, , , on an unplanned venture with Lisa into the unknown on the far side of our planet Susan a green corporate attorney haven one goal in mind; live the life of excitement with travel being her drive, , , but all is pushed to the limit when a new opportunity emerges from Lisas hire Nothing is as it seems and all involved including you the reader are drawn into this off-the-wall creation where your senses are kinda assaulted by a quirky cast of world travelers, , , as well as local inhabitants. Lisa and Susan grew-up as kids in Wisconsin with a grade school pact decide'n to make an adventurous life style their goal, , , now the rest is as they say H I S T O R Y . . . So come along let a whim' be your guide and maybe, just maybe, you might enjoy a little entertainment, , , learn a tad about the Chinese and maybe even pick up on a wee bit of French. . . Or Latin No Time To Loose'' Ah Yes and Good Ole Rock n'' Roll

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 2, 2011
• ISBN: 9781463422578

James N. Gabor

Guess the adventure for Jim Gabor really began while stationed in Naples Italy serving the U.S. Navy. Purchase of a brand new 1973 Land/Rover Series III at the factory in Solihull England was, , , well lets say normal life was never to be the same; if that vehicle could tell stories, ahhh maybe not Once discharged and back in the States Jim got his literary start with an AA Print Media Degree from Rochester Community College that was never fully utilized; add a dash of lifes turmoil and the rest is historyThis twist started with employ at the Minnesota Department Natural Resources; where one of his duties was writing articles titled as a Forestry Information Specialist Then came time to leave the DNR and become a maverick with his own Timber Business in the Drift-Less-Area of S. E. Minnesota, S. W. Wisconsin and N. E. Iowa As one timber land Barron ex college professor-encouraging customer that Jim worked with put it; Working all day cruising timber by yourself, , , no wonder you have such a wild imagination. While dabbling on an Ecology degree Jim came up with his base story line for Paint the Dragon. It had its beginnings from a Business Law class project, upon which a discord on creative-writing ensued with the Law Professor I find your papers-story-line is too far into the realm of creative-writing for the class project that was assigned, stated an intrigued Law Professor. Although not quite fitting my curriculum; play it out and lets just see where this goes, , , it quite possibly could make a good book, smiled the Law Professor So enjoy the quirky read and get ready for another parky installment of the scarpered adventures of Lisa and Susan. .

Book preview

(SLIP OF THE PEN)

Chapter 1

It’s a Long Way

To the Top if You Want to Buck ’n’ Roll, a Good ole rock ’n’ roll tune was stuck in my head. Know how that happens sometimes? My ex-boyfriend moved the words around a bit, some guys tend to be like that. We both knew that a long-distance relationship would never work—too intense of a thing for that to fly; enough on that thought. Once I received my degree and took an international corporate job, I was inspired to have travel and work rule my world. A farm girl from the Midwest, I always knew I’d get a job with intrigue and adventure being the key to financial freedom.

Being an attorney fresh out of school, I didn’t have dreams of changing the world—"Oh, contraire, I wanted to be part of that world of change. The growth in international finance and business has been altering how many countries and companies do business. There was a need for corporate legals. So, here I was again, Big Ol’ Jet Airliner" . . . funny how familiar rock tunes can describe one’s life…

Staring out into the blackness, I was almost giddy with excitement. I spaced back to when I used to hang out on the banks of the Mississippi by Lake Pepin, at Grandpa Leroy’s. There was a chance encounter with a charming couple who both just happened to be attorneys. Combine my best friend Lisa Sannder, a sailboat, good old rock ’n’ roll, a kids’ pact, and… huh? What the… I was jarred back to the here and now by a swift sudden burst of air turbulence.

My assignment was taking me to the Land of the Dragon, as one upper corporate attorney described China to me. Mizz Wilamsen, make sure to keep your wits about you and be friendly, but don’t be a pushover, Tom Brenton started. The Chinese are serious businesspeople, Susan, or them’s the ways, sometimes, he said to me. They tend to believe in a code of honor; meet their expectations and show true sincerity, and you’ll do just fine.

I loved the way he sometimes talked in that down-to-earth slang. I guess it’s a Harvard graduate’s way of holding onto his happy beginnings. Ahhh… Tom, a rough-and-tumble, athletic middle-aged version of Clark Gable, without the mustache, add a dash of salt-and-pepper hair; he loves to fish and do just about anything outdoors and… Whew.

The company I’m with is into multiple financial holdings, servicing a worldwide network. It contributes to the workings of numerous international companies, ranging from thousands of dollars in mom-and-pop organizations to literally hundreds of billions in high-risk international trade.

The corporation, or corp. as we fondly call it, was founded on a belief that the little guy was just as important as the big guy, so to speak.

Susan, Tom said, many a business was built on small beginnings of ideas and dreams through hard work to become a reality, and it is the same the world over. If you work with a bunch of these little guys, you can create a nice cash flow. Not to mention the part that some really do grow and produce true money potential; multiply that, kid, and you’ll see part of what we’re all about.

My prehire interview with Tom was echoing in my head, a lot of what he said was real down-to-earth business sense that could be put to practice.

Funny what runs through your mind on these long flights. Well, it had been a little over a year now, and my gopher-running had paid off on some increased sales in the Pacific Rim region. Most of my time had been spent in and around the area of Shanghai, China. I’ve been here two times already on business for the corp. They were fast turn-arounds; get the job done and get back… and I am still as excited as the first time.

Must say I’m getting a little used to this place, and the cabbies drive me nuts, kinda good humor though. I am a five-foot, eight-inch, short dark-haired, fluff, easy-to-dry and go, blue-eyed eat-your-heart-out Sports Illustrated swimsuit model look-alike. Hair not quite brown, not quite black, it’s an Italian-Swedish thing, a friend told me once. Yes, I’ve been informed a good-looking, great bod, Western gal in a business suit is hard to take.

Ahhh—at least I have a boyfriend’s description: to pump me up, along with if people could only see you on the beach, maybe not. The turd used to even bug me about my thick eyebrows. His loss, even with his sweet apology—YUK.

Wake up, princess, joked the guy next to me. We are getting ready to land; hope you have fun in China.

I peered out the jet’s window at lights aglow, the Buck Rogers, futuristic skyline of the new East Bank or Pudong Side commerce district. The Queen of Display was the spectacular, ornate, Oriental Pearl TV Tower, accompanied by massive but more normal skyscrapers, dotting the Huangpu River shoreline.

I glanced around at my first-class surroundings and my fellow willing prisoners of the air, who had looks that said, I sure am glad this ordeal is about over, let me outta here. Not to mention the running low on performance: perfumes/colognes mixed in with wafts of exuberant alcohol beverages, recycled cabin air, and travel nerves that come to life on these very long flights; whew again. There’s Tom’s colorful lingo again running through my head; kinda neat description though… his and mine; I like the guy… and he’s even my boss.

I disembarked with my fellow passengers as we all herded out like cattle into a stock truck but allowed to go our separate ways. I got my bags no problem, that’s a first, but I was becoming somewhat of a veteran now; had to go good sometimes.

This is a new airport, and they did a great job in its design and execution. I guess that’s a given, seein’ as how Shanghai is now one of the busiest sea ports in the world, not to mention the new Pacific Rim commercial hub being established here.

No cab this time; the hotel was sending a car for me. I was amazed as always as I stepped outside the terminal… the exotic smells and noises; that’s worth the trip right there. It was a balmy, humid, early summer evening where one feels the tendency to succumb and perspire, once outside the cool, comfortable terminal.

The scents are combined big city pollution and waterfront mixed in with unknown sweetness intertwined in the sight of a huge mass rolling on the edge of the city’s new world order monetary benevolence.

The city was filled with great throngs of mingling humanity. The noise was just as intoxicating as the smells and sights, somewhat like a calamity of a huge rock concert with car noises and unknown background sounds taking place of the band.

The maglev train whirled by; buses and taxis curtsied for position. I am always blown away when I first step outside of a terminal in places like this. In country, Tom would say. Go figure, I thought, standing there mesmerized by the events taking place before my eyes. There are people bumping into me, jostling me, always looking me up and down; some smiling and some just looking bewildered, scurrying off along life’s way.

Tom again runs through my mind as I’m standing there on the other side of the planet; why did he pick me to join the corp.? Sure, he said, I was a bright study, and he enjoyed my Wisconsin background. Liked the fishing there, he told me.

Where’s that black Mercedes from the hotel? I asked myself; I looked over three cars deep… and there it was.

I waved a folder in hand at the driver and pulled my bag on wheels, working toward the car; what a great concept! Wheels for luggage. I made my way to the car, and the friendly driver said, You Susan?

I said, Yep. I just gotta quit using words like that, I thought to myself. So, I said again, Yes, that’s me.

The driver smiled and said, I’ll take your bag, placing it in the back for me.

He also looked me up and down and said, You can sit in the front with me, that is if you like.

I said, Sure, that’ll be swell.

He gave me a befuddled look, and I thought, too much earthy talk again; man, I sound dorky sometimes.

He just smiled and said, Get in.

He was a pleasant-looking middle-aged chap with broken English who said he is a Dutch/French/Asian holdover from the colonial days, parents that is. He said his name is Raz, short for Razah, and told me a little bit about himself.

He’s been at the hotel for a couple of years, at least that’s what he said. From what I could see, his Asian background was a little on the lost side, with his European blood taking over: five feet, eight inches, slight build, short dark hair though; that’s Asian enough, but the sandy-colored eyebrows. Maybe deep down he’s really a renounced punker, in trouble with the government. Man, Sus’, get a grip of your imagination, I said to myself, smiling.

Then Raz looked at me and said, So what is a nice girl like you doing in a place like this? He told me about the old American movies that were shown here on a local station, thus his slang use. I guess I’m in good company after all.

I explained to him, as we bumper car dodged through the big city night, that I am an attorney with a large financial company.

Raz talked about the city’s allure with all its possibilities to the work force, which is being drawn from the countryside for the thought of chasing the new China dream. We both discussed the current lull in the international business growth and agreed it is just a temporary thing. He liked practicing his English and said it was refreshing that a businessperson like myself was so friendly and willing to talk.

Raz said he was very happy to have a good paying job, as we pulled into the hotel. Well, our hour-long chat helped the trip go by quickly; he said, Have a good stay, Miss Susan, and good luck with your business venture.

I said, Likewise.

He looked at me, bemused, and we both grinned at each other.

I said, Take care, tipped him, and rolled my baggage into the lobby.

Ahhh, air conditioning once again, I rolled up to the front desk and asked if my room was ready.

The attendant stated, Yes, Susan Wilamsen is room 204, in pretty good English, I might add. So, off to the elevator and second floor I went. Wow, what a view of the street and center park from the balcony, I always like a lower room if I can get one.

Being early summer you can actually see—not too fmoggy, as Lis’ so eloquently informed me on the topographics (or whatever) of my first encounter in Shanghai. Night had come to life with all its luminescent color and glory… no more drab old China.

I stripped off my suit and jumped in the shower, I always feel grubby after those super long oceanic flights. Yes, refreshed from a hot steamy shower as life flowed back into my traveled body.

I felt much better after toweling off; I put my suit into the get nice and clean bag and threw on some well-worn jeans. They’re always much cooler and have a great look just before they are all worn out and full of holes. Completed the outfit with a loose-fitting, not-too-revealing top and clogs, and I was good to go. Always liked clogs even if fashion was questionable, got into them while visiting a friend in Italy. I picked up the phone.

Lisa, this is Susan, I’m back in Shanghai, give me a call. Lisa was a roomy of mine in college; she was also an attorney but went down a different road, now worked for the Canadian Consulate here in Shanghai. We grew up together back in Wisconsin; her brothers were one big pain in the ass, but they did have their good points. We were pretty much inseparable and grew up like sisters. With more fights and altercations, though, at least Lis’ would say, it was all part of growth—yeah, right, good thing she was like a sister.

She had duel citizenship (Canadian and US; it has to do with her parents’ nationality and place of birth or somethin’). Her dad was a high-ranking Canadian official once, so I guess that couldn’t hurt either. Lisa rang me right back and said, Great to hear from you, Sus’; let’s go grab a bite and catch up on things. She said she’d pick me up outside my hotel and hung up.

While waiting out front for her, I was reminded of my earlier thoughts of this massive city. It’s quite nice where the hotel is, more pleasant smells and sights, even some urban greenery.

Lisa pulled up in a chauffer-driven consulate car, one of the great perks for working at the embassy; of course she is a real go-getter, always going the extra mile for Oh Canada. As always, she jumped out with overenthusiasm; she screamed, Man, Sus’, it’s great to see you; you look so good, ya make me sick.

Lisa was definitely no slouch, a cute little (five-foot, five-inch) blonde and knew it. Shoulder-length semi-curled blonde hair, brown eyes, kinda brown eyebrows, hard-body and shape, with a said link back to Alexander the Great… well, if nothing else, she sure had the attitude to prove it. And damn them pouty lips, can’t forget ’em; nobody else does. She is dressed rather businesslike for going out on the town: dress pants, comfy-loose fit dress shirt, pumps, trying to taller-up, me thinks—maybe because of her ride, I smirk in my own thought. Speaking of smirks, Lis’ just had to give me her classic grin—as if I didn’t get it, by now… little turd-wacker.

It had always been a friendly competitive thing with us ever since high school, college, and well, that’s a whole ‘nother story. Yeppers, if you knew Lis’ like I knew her, that cutesy grin says the whole nine yards, let alone being blonde and then some. It has always gotten us into trouble sooner or later. The guys, along with life’s rivalry between us, I guess it had a lot to do with us being so close, and not being sisters. This has always made for an interesting adventure. Maybe that’s why I’ve kept her around all these years. Couldn’t for the life of me think of any other reason, I mused to myself again.

I know this great little Italian place, Sus’, Lisa said, winkin’ and knowing about our adventures in Italia. Only Lisa would know of a great Italian place in midst of Shanghai. Off we went into the intoxicating Oriental night and the adventure of being here and now.

On the drive there, she was jumping all over different subjects about what had transpired in the six months since I’d seen her. Then she smiled and said, This place we’re going even has spaghetti with marinara clam sauce, ‘member that place on the beach in Ischia and camping out, snorkeling? I miss Italy, but it’s onward and upward.

Lisa rambled on and then asked, So how do you like your job with the corp., Sus’?

I told her truthfully that it was really great, and I had an excellent chance for advancement.

I continued about how Tom was taking a special interest in me and wanted to see me succeed in the corp. I told her Tom talked about where I was from: You know, Lis’, home… The fishing, the great outdoors and all, about if he could, he’d just live there, hang around the lakes, rivers, and streams and have a good ole time.

Lis’ just looked at me blankly and said, That’s great; well, we’re here.

Seeing’s how I know Lis’, I returned her look with one of my own, and she just blew me off. Little shit, good thing we’s close, smile-smirk-f-you, me thinks.

Chitalias was the name of the place; it was not very big but was packed, maybe two dozen tables with the bar area, and what looked like outside garden seating. I said, Let’s get a table and have a Lambrusco at the bar.

Cool, said Lis’. Let’s get up there, a couple of places just opened up.

As I surveyed the crowd, flashbacks of quaint small town bistros we used to frequent in Italy came to mind, not quite the same, but then again . . . You could tell the business types, mixed with locals and nationalities were quite a divergence a-la-Shanghai.

We talked to a couple of Australian businessmen next to us at the bar, who had been working and living here in China for several years; they also thought this place was great. Who ever would think, an Italian restaurant in downtown Shanghai, one said.

And a Dutch bartender, added Lisa.

Well, that’s the story of China nowadays, with its growth and diversity, even with this current world lull period, it’s going to come back and continue stronger than ever, the other Aussie said.

While I was talking business with our new friends, Lisa was hittin’ on the bartender, as usual. His name was Jason and he was from Amsterdam; too much to handle, I thought, kinda one of those information overloads we sometimes joke about.

To me, he looked like a young German storm trooper superior race type; Lisa never did have any taste and sure didn’t think with her brain when it came to guys, I thought to myself, when we were told our table was ready. We said good-bye to our new Australian friends; they said, G-day, Miss Susan, see you here again.

Meanwhile, Lis’ was still flirting with the storm trooper; I grabbed her arm and pulled her toward our table.

Hey, she said, I was making some headway.

I said, You’ll thank me some day.

Like that night in Barcelona? Lisa asked. And furthermore, you wanted him for yourself.

I said, You are getting drunk; come on, we better eat something.

Lisa gave me that deer-in-the-headlights glance, smiled, and followed me to the table. Good thing we are the best of friends, or we would have never made it this far. We have to have conflict, almost like sisters, but we have stuck together through thick and thin, like we vowed in our grade school pact.

As we sat down, I looked over a couple of tables and saw Raz, who was sitting with a woman that must have been his wife, a stunning Asian/French mix, I would guess. They both looked over, smiled, and waved a friendly hello.

Lisa smiled and said, Who’s that now, Miss Socialite?

That was the car driver from the hotel; they seem like a really nice couple, I answered her back. Anyways, what in the world were you drinking? I didn’t get to see it.

Don’t know, said Lisa, but it sure was good, and I guess it must have a mighty kick the way I feel right now. Come on, let’s order that Shanghai spaghetti. I’ve had it here before, it’s wonderful.

While we waited for our order, Raz came over and introduced us to his wife, Tia, who seemed as smart and classy as she was good looking. We chatted briefly and concluded that we should get together sometime before I go back to the States. Our waiter came with the heapin’ plates, and Tia and Raz bid us adieu.

You’re right, Lisa, I said, it’s almost as good as our spot in Ischia, but no beach… we can even have some leftovers for later. We topped off the meal with an authentic sweet cappuccino and strolled out into tantalizing night air, jumped into the waiting car, and headed back to our respective haunts.

Chapter 2

Ring! Ring! Ring!

The phone jostled me out of my In a strange place, not sure where I am sleep. Wake up, kid, it’s time to meet the masses, Tom said. Susan, did you have a good flight? Was the driver waiting for you at the airport? Was he good to you? Did you find the hotel okay?

Yes, yes, thanks for checking in with me, I’ll get cracking and meet the clients and check in with you at the end of the day, I said, sleepy-eyed.

Ciao for now, Tom laughed.

I laid out my fresh suit and jumped into the shower. Stepping out of the bathroom wrapped in a very soft comfortable robe, provided by the hotel no less, I noticed the smell of fresh tea and biscuits. I went out onto the balcony and watched the splendid panorama of the early morning sun through what must be the inner city smog. It was just utterly awesome in its colors; too bad it’s a negative creation of man. I sipped my tea, looking out at the surreal spectacle of the city coming to life. I pondered to myself, Doesn’t this place ever stinkin’ sleep? There’s even an Italian bistro in downtown Shanghai, for Gawd’s sake.

I knew about the smog here, so Tom had found me a small hotel in a better part of the city; it was really nice with its gardens and trees lining the street.

Ahhhhh, Tom; he seemed cordial enough, I guess putting a newbie under his wing… maybe he has big plans for me. I hoped they were good ones. But then again, as my ex-beau, would say, If things are going great, then ya might wanna look out, ’cause things have a habit of changin’.

Enough wonderment, time to earn my keep; I got dressed; I was ready to rock and roll. I laughed to myself but it’s true, like Tom would say, Let’s go sloggin’ through the trenches. I stood in front of the mirror and thought, Knock ’em dead, girl. Man, I love short hair, just fluff it and go; time to go to work.

The car from the manufacturing company I’m supposed to see was right on time. It was a good hour-and-a-half drive to the factory on the outskirts of the city. As I gazed out the window on our road trip, I thought about what a small place it was to plant over thirteen million people; good thing China liked us and our way of life, so to speak.

We stopped at the head office near the plant complex and were met by two company officials, who were very cordial and prompt. Time to shine and make the corp. proud, as a slight nerve-jitter sparked through me; polished corporate steel, and I—was—ready. We moved inside after exchanging bows with pleasantries, handshakes, and hellos.

The conference room was like any other multimillion-dollar corporation: a large stately room surrounded in fine hardwood paneling, complete with wooden chairs and a large wooden table. Our meeting place had seating for more than twenty; there were only five of us, including me, for our conference. We sat close together at one end, and I was in luck, as Dang, one of the junior board members, doubled as an interpreter. I decided for now just to speak bits and pieces of Chinese to see how things go, before revealing that I’m rather proficient in their language.

Would you like a tour of the factory, Miss Susan? Dang asked.

Sure, I’d love it, I said with a sincere smile.

Dang explained how they made fine hardwood veneer sheets out of imported logs from various other countries, including the United States. We stared into a massive concrete bunker/tub-like facility, with sprinklers to keep logs fresh. He added that these units could store two hundred semitruck loads of logs for future processing.

Like Tom told me Stateside, before I left on my trip, You have to see these things to believe them.

With this system, they can get a handle on efficient manufacturing for orders as required. Typical Chinese ideas, I thought, get into it big and with the most practical efficiency, at least at this plant.

We went on to some manufacturing areas of the plant. There were some peculiar things present. One thing I noticed was when the thin processed sheets of veneer were laid on top of one another, two men stood on either side with large feather dusters. They sweeped the top surface of each sheet before the next one was laid down.

This intensive type of manufacturing insures less damage, Dang said.

I thought, But that is common only to labor-rich places like China.

Walking over to me and pointing at the feather dusters, a gentleman from a US timber company chuckled and said, Ya won’t see that at one of our mills.

I thought, Maybe not, but then again maybe that’s why some of your mills are closing down; product quality is not something these Chinese take lightly.

In another area of the plant, an even more peculiar event took place. A smiley little fellow was standing by a hand cart with a large canvas bag on it. A large blower was filling the bag with wood chips, which the fellow pushed to another part of the plant. Dang looked over at me and said over the roar, Miss Susan, we hand cart the chips instead of blower piping—it’s a human issue, put people to work, it’s our way.

Back at the office, one member said in broken English, Di you enyoy the tourr, Misses UuuSsan?

Yes, I said, it was very informative, thank you.

Dang went over and spoke to the other members, but I can make out only bits and pieces of their conversation. It had to do with something about trusting the corp., and one member insisted that he had heard nothing but good things about us.

Dang came back and said to me, All the papers are in order, Miss Susan. They are ready to sign.

After signing, bows and handshakes, with smiles all around. I’m led to the waiting car by my newfound friend, who said, Thank you and good-bye, in perfect English.

I said, Thank you, and see you later, in perfect Mandarin; Dang gave me a curious smile, and I gave him a wink.

Then I said, continuing to speak in Mandarin, that we at the corp. were very impressed with their company and their accomplishments in both domestic and foreign markets. We are especially impressed with your handling of uncertainty in the tough European market, I continued, complete with smiles and some hand-talk gestures.

I could see that Dang really enjoyed my fluency in Mandarin. I brought up the complexity of foreign laws, which I had to review before I met with his company. I thought I rather lost him by now, but kept a polite face on our conversation so as to not talk over him about a subject he knew nothing about.

I did not know you could speak my language, Miss Susan, Dang said. Thank you for doing so, even at this late date, but why… ?

I interrupted him in midsentence, still in Mandarin, complete with an index finger wave. I didn’t intend any disrespect, I said. I wasn’t sure what I was getting into, so in my world as a corporate lawyer, I acted on the side of caution and need to know.

No disrespect taken, Miss Susan, Dang said, smiling as he held out his hand for another shake. I like you. I like you a lot. My full name is Dang Cheang, he said, I Am The Company, finishing with a sweet smile and a firm handshake.

Well, it’s an honor and a pleasure to meet you, sir, I said, keeping my wits about me as to what had just gone down. A pleasure indeed, and I hope we have many years of business together.

Of this I am very certain, Dang said, winking at me this time. Yes, of this I’m most certain, Miss Susan, and I hope to see you again. He finished with a bow.

Thank you again, sir, I said with a proper bow back, and you may call me Susan.

On the drive back, my mind ran loops. Tom said the end of the week was always a good time to do business deals, something about people’s thought patterns. Why did Tom like sending a junior member of the corp. on these endeavors? Do the Chinese have something on their business ideals? What about the smug American lumber guy? Was that part of our US manufacturing in disarray? Sure we can’t compete with this country’s cheap wages, but then again maybe our smugness was destined to bite us in the ass. The Chinese were not those little guys in funny same-o’, same-o’ suits anymore!

My daydreaming was broken by honking and dodge driving, as the driver looked into the rear view mirror and gave me a reassuring smile and a silly nod. These people really are friendly, I was beginning to conclude.

Yep, made it back in one piece; time to check in with Tom and get out of this monkey suit. It can be hot and humid here, especially touring a non-air-conditioned factory. Glad I was in shape; that reminded me, I better do some of my workout stint tonight; I had created my own combo of Tai Chi and Tae Bo calisthenics along the way.

I actually became interested in martial arts when I was six, my dad thought it was cool, an ex-Navy thing, reflecting back home and getting into my routine. I sure got into it big time. I recalled how Dad was proud of my black belts in Taekwondo, ‘course he got me there; Hoo-Ya.

I walked by the front desk; done cerebratin’, I am in China now, and the attendant said I had two messages, one from Lisa and one from Raz, I decided to call them after I checked in with Tom.

I rang Tom and told him everything went good.

He said, That’s great; thanks. How’s it going there?

I told him about my friend Lisa and how fun it was to see her again and hang out. Tom talked a little bit about my next assignment and then said to call him again Monday morning. He added that if I would like, he could look into having me stay longer, if I thought it would be okay.

Cool, I said—forgetting who I’m talking to.

Tom could sense my excitement; he laughed and said, Ciao; have a great weekend and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do… be careful, you two.

I hung up and wondered again why he was so nice to me.

One of the junior fellows at the corp. had told me that Tom lost a daughter, and he thought this was probably the reason; enough on this.

I’ll just have to show Tom how much I appreciate the kindness and opportunities. With the talks we’ve had already, I felt that we both run on similar programs; he knew how sincerely grateful I was, whatever the reason.

Enough of this… time to work out and call Lis’ and Raz.

Working out always sucks till you start, then once you get into it, go for it, girl; at least my ex-beau-friend had that right.

That turkey, first he was whining about being older than me, then it was about doing too much together, then it was… huh, the Backstreet Boys’ Quit Playing Games with My Heart, how fitting. I don’t know who I enjoyed dancing to this better with, Lis’ or ex-beau… silly girl… have to think ‘bout that one. I like to do it to music—work out, that is, so I turned up the i-Pod and rocked; well, kinda sorta; Backstreet Boys… sure feels good.

Guess Lis’ and I always did listen to more old rock ’n’ roll; come to think of it, must have been our parents a-playin’ tunes all the time. When you grow up with rock ’n’ rollers, you can’t help but become one yourself. And can’t forget our sailing friends.

Oh yeah, Lisa’s big brothers have been known to smash wimpy CDs on occasion. Or should I say, use them for gun practice as clay pigeons. Maybe that’s how Lisa became such a good shot, trying to blow them little suckers outta the sky.

Like the classic rock ’n’ roll tune goes, the new music just ain’t got the same soul, or at least a lot of it. Ex-beau sure had some good ole tunes; I smiled to myself… as I tried to kick him in the head… mmwaa—nooo. April Wine, Harder Faster, that’s more like it, kick ass rock ’n’ roll… now that’s more fitting.

It’s nice when you’re done with a good body-bang workout and stand in front of a mirror, seeing smiles at the results, boyfriend (ex-beau) liked that too… have to be nice, can’t pick on him all the time, he did have one—maybe two good points; go figure.

I rang Lisa; she was excited on the eve of the weekend.

Sus’, whas’ up? It’s Friday night, Lisa said. She went on about meeting some friends at the Shanghai Club and excitedly asked, Can you be ready in an hour or so?

Shure, I said. Ciao, bella, later.

Next I called Raz, he answered right off and asked, Susan, would you like to go with us Sunday to do some sight-seeing?

I said, Yes, I’d love to. I’ll call you Sunday morning, ten-ish. I smiled at the meeting of newfound friends… life is good.

I cranked tunes on the room CD system and hoped nobody complains, i-Pods and showers don’t mix; jumped in, lathered up away-the-day as a little jingle from Angel City started beatin’ out. I soprano-ed, I DON’T WANNA FACE THE DAY TODAY, TODAY THE NIGHT IS MORE FORGIVING, LA-LA-LA.

Well, tonight no prisoners. A short black minidress, four-inch stiletto heels, and just walkin’ on down the street knockin’ ’em dead; smile, laugh, hope I don’t stumble at a critical time (been known to do that on occasion, stiletto hazards; I’ve never seen Lisa stumble). Who cares? I’m ready.

I went out to the balcony sippin’ on a fresh cold green tea, the merry weekend street life below unveiled itself. In many ways, it kind of looked like Naples, Italy. That is one thing about Shanghai; subtle inherent European influence, which has always, I guess, been the case.

Not even a chill in the air. God, it’s great to be single and young—what a stupid thing for my boyfriend to tell me, ex-a-rooney boyfriend, that is (I like ex-beau, yes, how fitting).

Okay, I can have that sentiment now, but as we all know, a relationship has its ups and downs. Maybe it was me taking this job on the other side of the planet, or maybe it was a money thing, or maybe… as I choke-a-spitty with my tea (at least it didn’t spill on my dress).

I should be a block wall like Lisa, she holds it in, although I’ve been with her when it has crumbled a bit.

We’s only human after all; thanks, Tom, as I made an imaginary toast toward which way I thought home was.

Chapter 3

Yep, Ya just can’t miss

The canary yellow Land/Rover Defender 90 all decked out with off-road goodies, even has the rag top down, this woman is too much.

I yelled out to her, she looked up and screamed, Hoo Ya and I hollered, Will Be Right Down!

I sauntered, not walked up to the Rover—had to concentrate: walk, don’t trip, Sus’, and Lisa was cranking the Eagles’ Take It Easy.

Did I ever tell ya, you look so good, Susan, ya make me sick, Lis’ said.

All the time, I said back.

She smiled ’n’ pointed, You’re lucky I’m not a guy or I’d be all over you. AND THERE sat Lisa, in a red version of what I had on.

Couldn’t be any shorter, could it? I said as I looked down at her looong legs; she smirked at me, pushed a button, and ZZ Top’s Sharp Dressed Man came on.

You can imagine the looks we were getting. READY—TO—PAINT—THE—DRAGON? Lisa HOLLERED.

The term Paint the Dragon was used in the colonial days of Shanghai’s Hay—Day, when the Shanghai Club was at its peak: No Sailors There.

Paint the Dragon was a COLORFUL term, used by Merchant Marines and Sailors, I guess derived from the old adage—Paint the Town—kind of fitting if you think about it.

Anyways, the term was used when they would go On—Shore for Liberty and have some—wink-wink’ drinks after being Pent—Up at Sea; go figure.

Let’s do it, I said and un-lady like hiked up my tube dress and jumped into the Landy—Didn’t think about this when I chose my out fit’ . . .

Lisa had a little Uncontrollable Laughter going and it got contagious; so it’s off to the Longest Bar in the World We Go.

Always liked Land/Rovers; gonn’a get one some day. The drive was just a treat on this beautiful Weather-Of-Das’-Evening, and the looks we got were something that words can have a daunting task to depict ; like, silly, risqué, just plain ole fun, huh, and what the ‘F’ . . . come to mind.

The city is—All-A-LIGHT-DDD-Up and A-Buzz with the weekend upon us. Lis’ brought up, There’s a film festival in town this week, over the din’ and rattle’ of the diesel engine, which I s’pose Lisa had modified for performance and maybe to get—NOTICED!

A blonde bombshell motor head, she always was at home with a wrench in her hand, I’m lucky too cause some of it rubbed off on me.

Her dad and brothers would help us tinker on cars and trucks that ‘we-all’ would own, and Lisa drove a ‘brand new BMW’ . . . go figure.

He’d say, It is really good to learn and understand what you drive. He would preach this to us, that women should know what goes on in vehicles.

Yep, I would go hang out at Lisa’s, and more than once, she would be up to her cut-off-sleeve T-shirt armpits in grease, helping one of her brothers working on a transmission-or-something car or truck. ‘Me’, well I would dig in and help, but really didn’t like to get sooo’ greased up… to have to take a shower with Dawn dish-soap, as Lis’ had been known to do… I TAKE’ that back NOW’; CAN’T forget my Chevy4X4 Pickup.

So Lisa, as I brainstormed back to reality, "I’ve read a little bit about this Shanghai International Film Festival; it is really catching on with worldly movie