Lost Dog

Fang Lang kept watching the cars go by. He sat on a bench outside a gas station, tapping his foot anxiously. He looked left and right, half-expecting the guys to pull around the corner at any moment. A skinny, homeless man with ashy skin and matted hair sat beside him, holding a cardboard sign that read: "Need prayers and food! 'Havnt' ate nun in a week."

Guy needs some English classes, Fang Lang thought. "Hey. Hey, dude."

The homeless man turned and looked at Fang Lang with tired eyes. "Mm?"

"It's h-a-v-e-n-apostrophe-t. Just so you know. No offense on your intellect, of course." Fang Lang gave a wry smile, his weary eyes almost paralleling the homeless man's.

"Oh…" The homeless man's face fell, and it seemed as if the man had lost everything all over again. There was a shimmer in his eyes, and then… the man got up, and walked away, down the street. Fang Lang watched him curiously for a while, wondering where a man like that would go next.

"Was just trying to help…" Fang murmured, his shoulders falling. He pulled up his phone and, for some reason that he couldn't explain, he opened his camera, and put it in selfie mode. He looked at himself, and there was hint of something inside of him that felt sorry for himself. He was in a totally different environment than what he was used to, surrounded by strangers and freaks.

He examined his own features for a brief moment. His long, black hair was unkempt since he hadn't had much time to recuperate since he landed; on the right side of his head, a streak of white hair — a signature characteristic of the Xuan Ye tong.

"Guess this is what they call 'culture-shock.'" Fang Lang muttered.

Suddenly, his phone dinged. He picked it up.

Message from Benji:

'You're a lost dog out there, Mr. Lang. Return to the mansion and I will see to it that I have a conversation with Mr. Hehrbenstrautz about the situation. You won't be punished any further, you have my word; you already caused enough trouble with The Madam as it is.'

"They snitched," Fang fumed. "Fuckin' hell, can't I catch a break? Whatever, man, I'm outie."

'I need cash,' Fang Lang thought, aware that there was no way he was getting out of the U.S. without at least a few hundred bucks.

Fang Lang got up from the bench and looked around. He needed to make some money, and there was only one way he knew how. He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out one of the coke bags — he still had them.

'If I play my cards right, I might be able to make enough cash to not only get out of here, but set up somewhere in Hong Kong. It's perfect.'

"Heh. Fuck the Miami Dogma." He muttered, putting the bag back in his hand. He grabbed his phone from his right pocket.

Message to Victoria:

'Hey, do you wanna buy some snow?'

Fang Lang paused, staring at the screen. He contemplated what Hehrbenstrautz might do if he sold his coke and ran off with the money.

'He'll definitely come after me.' Fang Lang thought.

Message sent.

It didn't take but 5 minutes for her to respond.

Message from Victoria:

'i know someone who does.'

Fang Lang raised an eyebrow.

'Who? Where can I meet them?'

'just come to Club Space. tell the bouncers you're here to see Bella for business. make sure you're ready to make the deal.'

"Bella…?" Fang Lang murmured. He texted back:

'K.'

With that, he put his phone back in his pocket as he looked around for a taxi. Sure enough, there were plenty in Miami. Fang Lang waved one down and got inside, just as he remembered that he was flat-broke.

"Hey, bro," Fang Lang said casually, rummaging in his pocket. He slapped a small bag of coke on the driver's dashboard. He did his best low-level English, Chinese man impression. "Heeya payment. Fwee. Just foh yooo."

"Wow, I've never seen a Chinese guy around here before! Kon ni chi wa! Oh, I love yer hairrr!" The man said, and he spoke in a tone that was quite feminine. "Oooh, thanks for the coke, pookie! Where ya headed?"

"Space Club."

"Huh? What was that? What happened to your accent?" The man looked at Fang skeptically.

"What you talkin bout? I Chinese, I barewey know what chu say. I from Hong Kong."

"Ohhh, Hong Kong!" The driver said, starting their journey. "I've been there once or twice myself, lovely aroma!"

'Great… this is gonna be fun. Ugh, Americans never stop talking, do they?' Fang Lang thought.

When they arrived at Club Space, Fang Lang thanked the driver and exited the car. He looked up at the bold, black and white sign reading: "Club Space."

There was a long line waiting to get inside, full of all kinds of people from all walks of life. Fang Lang's black jacket, white T-shirt and blue jeans made him blend in amidst the crowd. He went straight to the front doors, where the bouncers stopped him.

"Ay, you a member?" One of the bouncers, a 6'3 unit with a perpetual scowl, towered over Fang.

"I'm here to see Bella. For business." Fang Lang stood tall, unwavering. He reached in his jacket pocket and showed a tiny corner of one of the coke bags, just enough for the bouncers to savvy.

The hulking bouncers looked at each other, and nodded. They stepped aside, allowing Fang Lang to pass through and enter ahead of the line.

Upon entering, he was swarmed with darkness and the bombarding warmth of bodies. There were people everywhere; they practically were on top of each other. Before he even took a step, Fang Lang peered his eyes in the darkness, his only light the glow of the strobe lights, and opened up his phone.

Message to Victoria:

'I'm here.'

Message from Victoria:

'V.I.P. section. Upstairs.'

Fang Lang scanned the room and caught sight of the stairs leading up with a sign reading 'V.I.P. Floor.' He maneuvered and shoved his way through the hordes of dancing and jumping people, the sound of Club music blaring in his ears, the bass making his chest vibrate. He finally reached the stairs, and his stride didn't slow down as he made his way up to the second floor. He had no doubts that this was what he needed to do.

'I have to get back to Hong Kong, even if it means making a few enemies here.'

When he ascended to the V.I.P. Floor, he was met with a long hallway with a variety of rooms. He had no idea which one to choose.

Ding!

Message from Victoria:

'oh yeah, forgot. room 4.'

Fang smirked at his phone, then put it back in his pocket as he approached door 4. He took a quick breath, then knocked three times. The door opened to reveal Victoria standing there, wearing a black crop top and and jean shorts. Her hair looked better than before — straight and long. Her emerald eyes seemed to glow as she greeted him.

"Hey, Fang." She said softly, opening the door and embracing Fang in a hug, much to his surprise. Fang Lang walked in, nodding his thanks as Victoria shut the door. Inside the room, there was a panoramic aquarium on the wall, right above the expansive, leather booth, which surrounded two stripper poles, forming an oval. There was a glass table with wine glasses and champagne prepared. Sitting on the booth was a black woman, and she looked to be very rich. She wore silver booty shorts that clung to her ceaselessly, with a silver, fur dress that morphed into a poncho to match. A black Louis Vuitton belt and two hoop earrings completed the symphony. Her hair was a large mane of soft, luscious curls, stretching down to her back. Her lips were the thickest lips Fang Lang had ever seen; and her nose was sizable as well, but it didn't subtract from her beauty. Her face was adorned with makeup, and she held a cigarette up to the ensemble. She crossed her legs pensively as Fang Lang walked in, lightly kicking her black heel.

"So, who is you, may I ask?" Bella questioned, a tone of self-importance in her voice.

"Fang Lang of the Xuan Ye tong. I got—

"Wait, hold up, what now? What What of the What Now?" She laughed, and scoffed. "You must be new around here, cuz you came over here tryna sell some shit and you don't even know who I am."

"Maybe we can change that." Fang Lang answered quickly, his eyes holding steady with Bella's. She laughed and scoffed, ashing her cigarette.

"This is the man who saved from me those men." Victoria interjected.

"Ahhh…" Bella nodded, a glint of understanding in her eyes. "Well, thank you for saving my worker."

"Worker?" Fang Lang raised an eyebrow, and looked at Victoria. She now acted like she didn't hear the conversation, lighting a cigarette casually.

"Yes, Fang Lang," Bella said. "Victoria is one of my girls. You have to understand, Mr. Lang, that I deal in the entertainment business. If you ever want to take a crack at her for yourself, I'm sure she'll give you a discou—

"I-I'm good, thanks," Fang interrupted, shaking his head.

'Ah, I see. So I saved a whore,' he thought.

"So, what is it then, Fang Lang?" Bella took a hit, breathing in the smoke as graciously as a model. She exhaled, letting the smoke pervade the air like a steam. "What will it cost me?"

Fang Lang grabbed a baggie from his pocket and held it up it.

"200 for a gram and a half."

"200 for a g and a half?" Bella smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Do I look like I wanna pay 200 for a g and a half, boy?"

"Alright. 190."

"180, who the hell do you think you is, negotiating with me?" Bella scoffed. "That's my final offer. You can either take it or get the fuck out my club."

Fang paused for a moment. He really had no leverage, and no reputation. Back in Hong Kong, he was one of the most well-known and respected figures. Here, he was nobody.

He finally nodded, accepting Bella's final offer. "Alright. 180 it is, then."

Fang Lang dug in his pockets and set all 13 baggies of coke on the glass table.

"This better be some good snow, Fang Lang," Bella warned, smiling as she handed Fang Lang two bands. "Or else it's yo ass. I don't like scammers. Especially not Chinese ones. If my customers like it… I may be open to extending our business together further into the future. Come back here on Thursday."

Fang didn't say anything as he put the money in his jacket pocket. He didn't plan to come back at all. He turned to walk out of the V.I.P. room, but Victoria Vasquez stopped him.

"Fang Lang…" Victoria looked like she wanted to say something important, but she couldn't find the words. Her emerald eyes shimmered. All she said was, "Take care out there, y'hear? I'll text you." Her voice was soft and melancholy.

Fang Lang, a little confused, nodded. "Sure thing."

"Still up for that date Saturday?"

"Date? Um…" Fang Lang blushed, his composure slightly flustered. He totally forgot he had said he would get coffee with her. "Yeah, yeah, of course."

Victoria nodded. "Cool. See ya, Fang Lang."

"Later."

'Fuck. I'm gonna have to explain to her why I won't be able to make it eventually,' Fang Lang thought. 'I have to get to Hong Kong, I can't wait until Saturday! She'll just have to deal with it.'

He went down the hall, down the stairs, and out the exit. He patted the solid spot in his pocket and sighed, looking around for a taxi. Luckily, the taxi driver from before was still nearby, and he caught sight of Fang waving. He pulled up in a rather dangerous way, swerving left and right, and Fang deduced that he had already taken the coke he had given him. Nevertheless, he still got inside the taxi.

"Where to now, pookie?" The driver turned around to face him. His nostrils were coated in white powder.

Fang Lang sighed. "Airport."

"Okay, got it, pookie! Do I get some more of that sweet snow for— ahhhh!"

The driver screamed, and Fang looked in the rear view mirror to see a familiar, black SUV parked behind them. A woman with a gun in her hand was walking towards them. She approached Fang Lang's door and swung it wide open, and aimed the 9mm directly at his face. Fang Lang realized it was the same woman who had driven him to the mansion when he first arrived in the country.

"Come with me or I have no choice but to kill you." She said, her eyes reflecting utter seriousness. The driver was panicking, scrambling for his phone to call 911.

"Somebody! This woman has a gun! Somebody hel—"

BAAAAH!

Blood splattered all over the interior of the car, and all over Fang's face and clothes. Fang's eyes shifted to the now silent taxi driver, who now was missing half of his head. The remaining part of his face hung in torn rags of flesh and his entire jaw was visible. His only remaining left eye hung from its socket loosely.

Bypassing pedestrians screamed and scattered, running in all directions to get away from the scene. Some were brave enough to pull out their phones and record the incident. The woman acted like she hadn't just shot someone in public, her demeanor completely composed.

A pit dropped in Fang Lang's stomach. He quickly got out of the car and took swift strides towards the SUV. He got in the front passenger's side, and slammed the door as hard as he could, letting out all of his adrenaline in one motion.

The driver got inside the car and started the engine, her calm face sprinkled with the taxi driver's blood. She shot a sarcastic remark. "Thanks for not making me add a body to my list today." She pressed her foot on the gas and away they went, back to Hehrbenstrautz's mansion. The sun was beginning to fall, and the sky was becoming a tapestry of bright pinks and deep oranges. Fang Lang looked out the window, once again to watch the palm trees, his heart racing.

'I'm never getting back to Hong Kong.'