I finally escaped the choke hold of the outerwear and passed everything to the (very confused) maid, but the Wangs were nowhere in sight. Lisa took one look at my UChicago scarf and she and her minions turned their backs to me (what would they have done if they knew my real background?). Then the faux bragger, who had zero interest in finding out who the Wangs’ coat servant was, turned to one of the overt braggers to tell them how positively dreadful it was that poor Charlie was working so hard he wouldn’t be having kids anytime soon.

Part of me wanted to stick around and watch faux bragger vs. overt bragger, buuut I was already sure all outcomes would annoy me.

I calmly handed the maid my scarf, but I slipped out of my dress shoes and placed them near the other shoes myself so the maid wouldn’t have to touch something my feet had. Then I moseyed into the sharky sea as if I had all the time and calm in the world, like I was so sure of my relationship with Jing-Jing that I didn’t need to rush after her (or own her, like Hongbo surely would).

The foyer was massive, with ceilings taller than my apartment building (okay, maybe not, but it felt like that because it was so cavernous). On the right side of the hall, two curved staircases from opposite sides met in the middle, melting into one grand, oversize staircase. To the left, the library or den or whatever you call that usually empty, meant-to-impress room was teeming with people. And even more chatter was coming from beyond the indoor columns (can’t believe I had to specify that).

So Jing-Jing was saying no to all this. For just a small piece, I would have faked a relationship with Hongbo (clearly—I’d done it for a lot less).

My green socks with red polka dots glided over the polished marble floor. I looked for Jing-Jing while reminding myself to give off cool and comfortable vibes by keeping my spine straight, shoulders down, lips tilted slightly, head at the perfect angle (not too high and arrogant, but not low as if trying to hide).

My outer appearance remained relaxed, but inside, I was on guard just in case. It was super unlikely I’d run into another client (especially given the all clear), but bolting was the best defense for face-to-face run-ins, where deniability was difficult (which was our strategy otherwise, and why we changed last names between jobs and avoided photos).