“Back in China, yes. He’s changed. He came to America and is helping kids stay away from gangs.” Sloane went on to explain how Daniel had spoken about the painting he’d bought from Lucy’s friend. Sloane made sure to add that he’d spotted Lucy here at the shelter and expressed great concern for her before pointing Sloane in her direction.
Lucy looked dubious, but didn’t reply.
“According to Daniel, he bought the painting at your apartment,” Sloane concluded. “He said you were there.”
“Did he also tell you he cheated Meili out of lots of money? He paid her only fifty thousand American dollars for that painting. It was worth much more.”
Sloane’s ears had perked up at the mention of a name. “Meili—that was your friend?”
A nod.
“What was her last name?”
Lucy shrugged. “She didn’t tell me. I didn’t ask. It didn’t matter. We were friends. Six years. Maybe more.”
“You said Daniel cheated Meili. According to him, fifty thousand dollars was what she asked for the painting. Is that not true?”
Lucy gave a bitter laugh. “Oh, it’s true. But she was desperate. She’d stolen the painting from her father when she ran away. That, and another one. She knew they’d both been painted by a famous artist and that they were worth a lot, because a man who worked for her father had killed someone to get the first one. But she had no idea how much a lot was. Neither did I. Zhang did. He also knew how bad Meili needed money. And he still cheated her. She was young, naive, and way too trusting. She owed money to everyone, including me. And I’m ashamed to admit that I took it—every last jiao. I needed my drugs, and they cost a lot. By the time Meili paid back all her debts, she was left with less than half of what Zhang gave her for the painting. It was only a matter of time before she had to sell the second one.”
“Did Meili work?”
“She wanted to be an artist. But that took time and money. In between trying to sell her work, she waitressed at a bar. She earned almost nothing. That’s why she was so excited when that rich American came into her life. She was crazy about him. I warned her not to care so much. But she didn’t listen.” Lucy’s voice quavered, and she stared down at the table. “Why should she? I wasn’t so smart. Every man I knew robbed me, beat me, and walked out on me.”
This time Sloane took the risk, reaching over to cover Lucy’s hand with her own. “You were alone. You were desperate. And you were lonely. The men who abused you—it wasn’t your fault.”
Lucy raised her head, wiped the tears from her eyes. “Thank you.”
“Can you tell me more about Meili’s rich
American? His name? What he looked like?”
“I never met him and Meili never said his name,” Lucy replied, shaking her head. “She was protecting him and his precious reputation. I know she met him when she was trying to sell her second painting. He and his partners offered her next to nothing for it. She ended up selling it to some other triad swindler like Daniel Zhang. But the rich American pursued Meili, if not her painting. He was an important businessman. He was much older than she was, and he was married. He came to Meili whenever he was in China, and she ran to be with him. This went on for three years. She ended it all the night the pig got drunk and told her he’d first slept with her to win a poker bet.”
“What a bastard,” Sloane muttered, revolted by the all-too-common story.
“Wait.” Lucy’s fingers stiffened under Sloane’s hand, and her trembling started anew. “Meili came from a very traditional family. Honor was everything. She was humiliated by the rich American. She cried all the time, and wouldn’t talk. She was still like that when she found out she was pregnant. She didn’t know what to do. It took all her courage, but she went crawling back to her father. She knelt at his feet and begged for his forgiveness. He threw her out and said she was no longer his daughter. Three weeks later, she slit her wrists and died alone.”
“Oh God.” Sloane felt bile rise in her throat. “Lucy, I don’t know what to say. I’m so very, very sorry.”
Lucy was weeping. “Meili was my best friend. I miss her so much. But I betrayed her.”
“Betrayed her? How?”
“The man I was with when she died—he was worse than the others. He beat me hard every night, held me down and choked me until I blacked out, then threatened to kill me if I told anyone about it. I was so scared. I had to get away. So I took the rest of Meili’s money, paid a Dragon Head for safe passage, and had him smuggle me into the U.S. I stole my best friend’s money. And for what? To end up with another violent animal? One I was stupid enough to marry?”
“Stop it,” Sloane commanded, meaning every single word. “You didn’t steal Meili’s money. She was gone. And if she’d been alive, she would have gladly given it to save you. You needed help. You’re getting it here. You won’t ever make the same mistakes again.”
“No, I won’t,” Lucy said emphatically. She wrapped her blanket more tightly around her trembling shoulders. But she managed to meet Sloane’s gaze, and there was a tiny flicker of pride in her eyes. “No more drugs. Four months now.”
“You should be very proud of yourself, Lucy. You’re traveling a long, hard road. But you’re making it. You’re strong. Meili would be so proud of you. I know I am. And I meant what I said yesterday. If you ever need anything—to talk, to find your way once you’ve left the shelter—call me. I’ll help in any way I can.”
Lucy just stared. “I gave you everything I know. Still you’d help me? Why?”
“Because you’re a good person.”
“So are you.” Lucy reached under her blanket, rummaging in the pocket of her pants until she found what she was looking for. “Maybe this will help,” she said, extracting a folded photo and handing it to Sloane. “It was taken a few months before Meili died. I’ve carried it with me ever since.”
Sloane glanced down and smoothed out the lines of the photograph. It was Lucy and a smiling, dark-haired girl with the very love and joy on her face that Lucy had alluded to. “Meili?” Sloane confirmed.