CHAPTER 74 – The Show Must Go On

Friday morning, Eppie’s patience was at an end. She dipped into her [Causality] pool and propped up her [Stamina] and missing [Health].

Unfortunately, her resin cast was far more resilient than a plaster one and would require a second visit involving Wang Sifu and a Stryker saw.

Besides her, lying against the bed like a body, was the gift from Paco, or more accurately, from everyone from Fresno and Reedley. Inside it sat a guitar—a mid-1950s Gibson J-45. Eppie knew nothing about the history of this particular guitar, but she knew of the model. When she had picked up the guitar, her [El Duende] trembled, and Eppie knew that this was an instrument whose original owner had died for the craft. The emotions transmuted through her synesthetic death-seeking [Trait] were vivid enough to make her think of the progenitors of modern rock.

Elvis Presley.
Bob Dylan.
Buddy Holly.

All three had produced timeless hits from their trusty J-45s.

Her new “vintage” J-45’s default finish was what Gibson called Vintage Sunburst, involving a deep, bruised amber-brown that began at the edges of the spruce top and bled inward to a warmer honey-gold. The back and sides were mahogany, dark and matte, while the top stayed glossy, giving the whole instrument a two-toned hue. The spruce felt almost alive to the touch: slightly convex, ridged with grain, human. The neck had a rounded ‘V’ profile, the fretboard was the sole evidence of its age, for the protrusions were worn slick from incalculable hours of fingerwork.

Eppie sat on the edge of her bed for a while because, from the angle that she held the guitar, she could see the well-wishing message from Paco, Father Parson and Luciana peering from inside the well—Exodus 31:3.

After a minute, she turned away from God to ask Google for the implication.

The message, it would seem to Eppie, was rather ambitious.

The [Script Analysis] translation in her head read thus:

See, I, the [System], have filled this [Usurper], Euphemia (Lana) Fontaine, with the spirit of redemption. In ALL manners of the ARTS, to devise cunning plays, to work with songs and music, to create film, to inspire all media, and to set them, in all manner of workmanship, to shelter human creativity against AI slop.

“An Ark…?” she mouthed to the [System]. Jeez… thank you for the free [Dasein] last night, but that’s a bit of a task…

She looked at her absolute surplus.

It was a lot, but was it enough to build an Ark for artists against what was coming in the 2020s?

Friday’s lessons came and went, with only her friends knowing that a magical thing had happened last night, and that the memory was imprinted upon their lives forever. Dr Kirby taught her lessons of wisdom, as did her History and Algebra instructors.

In Sophomore theatre, she shot her shot to Tyker in front of Cooper re: Combined costumes. Cooper saw no problems with the exchange. Tyker said she would have to check her own Gantt Charts, but was otherwise in support of Eppie’s savvy frugality. Eppie remained confident; after all, her proposal struck four birds with one stone—reducing Sophomore overhead, reducing the burden on LAPA’s costume makers, and increasing the allowance for the Seniors’ LAPAGANZA. The final bird was Eppie’s true intention—to receive professional, film-grade costumes for her peers, something that rarely happened for the lite Sophomore productions.

Past Senior practice, she ate noodles with Lim at night, not in the Stray Cat Society, but in a nice Vietnamese joint south of the campus. Lim told her that William had demanded increased surveillance on her actions, and he had been writing back meticulous nothings as a form of malicious compliance.

In the privacy of their old Chinese takeout, she asked him about how much the Five Families knew about the William ordeal, and Lim took so long to answer that his pho went cold.

“Father knows—I told him, but I don’t know if he told anyone in their generation specifically,” Lim answered with careful consideration of his hypothesis.

“He says Kitty’s mother knows,” Eppie said.

“That’s on Kitty, though.” Lim stirred his soup. “Uncle Meng has a temper, and Aunty Meng is usually very quiet.”

“How about…” Eppie consulted her [Memorisation]. “Edson? He’s got… extremely illicit materials on his phone. So illegal, I am surprised the phone didn’t burst into flames.”

Lim sipped his soup. “He’s buried it, last I heard. Edson’s got his own problems. The Li family owns the big mart over at Yale St. The Chen’ye has been giving them discounted rent since forever.”

“… they won’t just sell the place to the Li family?” Eppie understood the game well. “Groceries have decent turnovers, especially cash businesses.”

Lim’s lack of an answer told her more than she needed to know.

“Jimmy is in the same boat,” Lim counted the members off the top of his head. “The family’s been using that tailor shop for almost fifty years. It’s the only reason they’re still in business. I think Father’s best bet lies with the Bu family. Their nail salon has multiple franchise stores outside of Chinatown. As for the Mengs. Kitty’s Dad is an actual GP, so his clients will go where he goes. It’s just a problem of convenience.”

“Three out of five isn’t that bad.” Eppie did the mental math.

“I think the Li family will join us,” Lim said seriously. “All it needs is Edson to show—”

“I’d rather the whole thing be turned over to the police,” Eppie interrupted the giant. “That’s still Mio in there…”

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Lim’s chopsticks paused. He covered his face with his giant mitt-like hands and groaned. “Pok-gai… you’re right. You’re absolutely right. What was I thinking?”

“Lafitte could probably handle that,” Eppie raised her chopstick. “If the local police can be trusted. Do the Chens have their teeth in local law enforcement?”

“Chen-ye is the chairman of the Chinatown Community-Police Advisory Board,” Lim said. “He donated millions to the LAPD Foundation. Omnia funds the PA Leagues all the way to Little Tokyo.”

Her giant then smiled in a bittersweet way. “The Five Root instructors are almost all ex-officers. My Sifu was one as well. Active duty officers come and train with us on the regular. We do Lion Dance performances WITH the community Policing Initiatives.”

“Oh…” Eppie felt her lips pull. “Not a great direction then?”

“No,” Lim concurred. “Chen-ye would be the very first to know. They would lawyer up and pressure the Five Families before we even see a court. That’s assuming the phone isn’t just smashed to bits the moment it leaves our hands. Can we count on a Chen to jail their sole heir? I am not taking that bet. Besides, the Mios are gone as well. They’re not coming back, are they? We already agreed we’re not dragging…”

Lim took a deep breath.

“No, we’re not,” Eppie confessed her disappointment in the lawful course of action. As for Mio and Nozomi, everything hinged on the May LAPAGANZA.

Saturday.