Read Online Dragon Day by Lisa Brackmann - Free Book Online Page B

I’ll have some breakfast. Maybe I’ll even go to Miyun with Mom and Andy. It would be good for Mimi to get some exercise, to breath some semi-fresh air.
    Good for me, too.
    Instead what happens is this: First, my phone rings again. “Pressure Drop” by Toots and the Maytals. The ringtone I use for Vicky Huang.
    â€œTonight you can go to meet Meimei,” she tells me.
    â€œI can?”
    â€œYes. At seven p.m. For dinner. She is in Beijing today. She has favorite place. I send directions.”
    â€œOkay,” I say, figuring it’s pointless to argue.
    â€œExpensive.” Vicky nearly hisses the word. “Wear nice things.”
    I glance over at the pile of smoke-soaked clothes on my chair. “Will do.”
    I fall back onto the bed again. I guess this means I probably don’t have time for an outing to Miyun with Mom and Andy. Which on the one hand is a relief.
    On the other I kind of wanted to do it. For the clean air and all.
    The next thing that happens is I hear the chime that tells me I have incoming email.
    Honestly, I don’t even want to sit up again. Because it’s probably junk mail, or if it’s relating to the art business, there’s nothing I can do about it anyway.
    But I do sit up, because I figure I should take one of my fancy shirts to the laundry and see if they can have it ready for me in time for this fancy dinner with another one of Sidney’s insane children. I mean, I have to figure she’s insane, based on my experiences with the family so far.
    Whatever. As long as she pays the tab.
    I’m not expecting the email that’s landed in my inbox.
    â€œYou Cannot Miss This!”
    My heart starts to thud, before I even take it all in.
    â€œThis is our Pick of the Year! We don’t see this slowing down! We know many of you like momentum!”
    Spam, you’d think, right? For some bullshit phony stock. But I’ve gotten this email before. It’s a signal, and I know what it means.
    â€œWhat do you think?”
    My mom hovers near the table, clasping her hands in that way she does when she’s nervous.
    â€œReally good.”
    She’s made these spicy eggs with bits of pork belly, chives, and her homemade pico de gallo, stuffed into something that’s a cross between a flatbread like you’d find in Xi’an and a thick corn tortilla.
    I’m not lying. In spite of the fact that the last thing on my mind right now is eating, I actually have to stop and savor what she’s made, because it’s delicious.
    â€œI wish I could find more avocado,” she says. “It would be good with some avocado, don’t you think?”
    â€œEverything’s good with avocado.” I shovel more into my mouth.
    â€œIt’s not exactly Mexican food, but it’s better than most of what I’ve had here. I don’t understand why you can’t find good tacos. I think Chinese people would like tacos. Andy likes them.”
    â€œMmm.” I glance at the clock on the microwave. I need to get going. “So I can’t go to Miyun with you guys. Something’s come up. A meeting.”
    â€œOn a Saturday?”
    â€œYeah, well, you know. Artists,” I mumble, and I push the rest of the eggs onto my fork with the last piece of flatbread.
    â€œOh well, I understand.”
    â€œThing is . . . ” I look up. She’s still standing there with her hands clasped, like she hasn’t moved. I can feel my cheeks reddening, and I’m not sure why. “Can you take Mimi with you? You know, so she can get some fresh air?”
    I mean, why should I be embarrassed? Mom and Andy love that dog.
    â€œSure, we could do that.” She frowns a little. “There really aren’t a lot of places for dogs in Beijing, are there? You’d think with all the dogs here, they’d have a dog park or two.”
    â€œYeah, well, the whole pet thing is pretty new. Lots of places in