WE'RE PICKING UP OUR LUGGAGES in a private baggage carousel only for the first class, which I am very thankful for because the more attention there is the more I'm going to feel sick. And adding on to the fact that I no longer look good after that long and exhausting plane ride with my barfing, I'm a disaster. On the other hand though, Rosalie remains beautiful and she looks like she just came out of a spa salon, her skin glowing along with her glamorous smile that I've now learned she puts on only for the public. Which does not include me.
There weren't many others seated in first class with us. Now, as we wait for our luggages to come, a few others wait with us. Most of them look like important people, but some look just like me, ordinary and plain, civilians. But none of them cast Rosalie and I any attention, they focus solemnly on their own business which I'm pretty glad for.
When I see my suitcase, I quickly go get it. And then a few minutes later, Rosalie's suitcase shows up.
"Okay, let's go now." I'm already walking off when Rosalie stops me.
"There's one more."
I frown at her but I don't ask, since I know she'll probably just ignore me.
A big cardboard box with protection foam taped all over it rolls over on the baggage carousel and I see Rosalie going to go get it.
Without asking, I go and get a cart to put the big box on.
When we're walking again, I finally ask her.
"What is that? I don't remember this box when we were checking our luggages in together."
She smiles at me, and it's a lopsided smile, which for some reason makes her still look good. "It's Maeve's life story, all of it.
"What?" I frown so hard I think it might set wrinkles.
She laughs at my reaction, but then she only says; "You'll know soon enough."
I'M ASTONISHED BY THE view of Beijing. Tall buildings, apartments, and impressive work of technology. Except the air quality isn't exactly one you can compare to back in Los Angeles, that's what I'll say.
A self-driving van awaits us in a quiet parking lot. Not a lot of people are here and Rosalie, which I now notice, has tucked her auburn hair into her Yankees hat instead of letting it down. Not a lot of people notice her now, which thankfully means no more paparazzis and flashing cameras.
Rosalie, on her phone, sets in our destination and connects it to the van when we get in. Fifteen minutes into the drive, she finally says something.
"Do you have everything ready? Laptop, notebook, all that preparation to write the story?"
I nod. "So, are you going to tell her story to me?"
She laughs and it annoys me, how she laughs at some of my questions when I don't see what's funny in it at all.
"I'm serious, Rosalie." I look her dead in the eye.
"Sorry," she still laughs. "Except the fact that you think I'll tell you her story is just funny, that's all."
"Well what am I supposed to think? She's dead I mean, the dead can't talk."
"Hey, never doubt the dead." She goes back to scrolling through her phone.
After a few minutes she says, "We're going to Maeve's penthouse. She wanted the story told specifically there."
"Why?"
"Because."
I wait for her to continue but she never does, so I don't ask at all. I think I'm starting to realize that's how it worked with Rosalie. And maybe even Maeve too, even though I never knew her in person. They say what they want to say, and when you ask them questions, they only answer you when they want to. And they either say as little or as much as they are willing to give. No matter how hard you push, they'll only say what they want to say, and it's never enough for you to fully understand everything.
When the van stops and we get out, I'm in front of a compound neighborhood of tall, fancy, apartments. Or if you can call it apartments. The walls are made of shining silver lining with blue sparkling glass. Exactly how many floors is there? Fifty? Sixty?
I look around us nervously, except no one is even out here other than us. I check my phone, and it's about seven thirty in the morning. And there's a few text and phone call notifications I now realize I have, which I ignore for now.
Rosalie leads us to the biggest apartment out of all the other ones here. When we reach inside, which I assume is the lobby, a man dressed in a strict blue suit (probably a guard) comes over to us. And I think he recognizes Rosalie as he gets closer, but he stays exactly the same attitude as when he approached us.
"Ma'am, I'm going to need to see your ID."
"You must be new here, you see I don't have my ID right now because..."
I'm about to ask Rosalie what the hell, because I thought Maeve's penthouse is up here and she would have access to it, except now she's being asked for an ID. Which she doesn't have. But then when I'm about to speak the sound of the elevator from back further in the lobby interrupts me and someone comes abruptly running toward us.
A woman, with long black hair, her dimples glowing as she smiles embarrassingly, hand rubbing the back of her head, comes crashing toward the guard. She's still in her sleeping robe which is a fancy color of rose velvet red, and her hair is sticking up all over the place, and a sleep mask is pulled up at her forehead still. She must have just woken up but she looks incredibly beautiful and eye holding.
"B-Bob, that's Rosalie. Remember how I told you I'm watching the penthouse for a few months for a friend of mine? Well it's actually hers." I see the woman handing Rosalie back of what seems like a room card or something. They exchange a look I can't quite place.
Bob, the fancy dressed guard or security, quickly makes a small bow at Rosalie, apologizing for his unawareness; saying how he's new and didn't know Rosalie owned the penthouse.
Rosalie smiles her glamorous smile and assures Bob that it's nothing.
"Did you just wake up? I texted you to come down here like thirty minutes ago." Rosalie says to the woman as we head over to where the elevators are. We stop in front of the elevator that's specifically for the penthouse.
"Hey, it's really early, I just needed to sleep in a little more. Plus, not everyone is like you, Lee Lee."
When we're in the huge, gold painted craftsmanship elevator, with our suitcases and that mysterious cardboard box, I stand there awkwardly while Rosalie and the woman speak in mandarin. Now I'm starting to regret the mandarin lessons I decided to quit.
Rosalie finally turns back to me and switches back to English.
"This is Carlise."
The woman, or Carlise, holds her hand out to me.
"And you must be Isabella?" She asks.
I'm probably gawking at her, because I finally blink and realize she said something. How does she know my name?
"Oh um, I actually go by Izzy. Izzy Adams."
She smiles and I shake her hand, and something about the way her hand lingering in mine feels like there's something more that I should know that she and Rosalie are letting on. "Carlise Kong."
"Wait, Carlise Kong as in?"
Carlise turns her head toward Rosalie, raising an eyebrow at her. "Seriously, Rosalie? You didn't tell her about me at all?"
Rosalie laughs, and it's a soft and angelic chuckle I haven't seen her done in front of me or the public. "What is there to even tell?"
Carlise shakes her head and turns back to me, a playful smile playing on her face.
"Yes, yes, I can't believe how many times I have to repeat this."
"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't mean——"
She waves me off, grinning. "Don't get me wrong, it's actually an honor to say it."
"So you're really, um, are you really...?" I don't want to say it because I might be wrong and I can't add more embarrassing things I've done to my list of embarrassment.
"Yeah, Carlise Kong. Jackson Kong and model Kong Hui Na's daughter. Well, most of you might know me as Klarise Kong's niece. My dad did name me after her I mean." She looks back at Rosalie and I see her smiling.
"Not everyone cares about who you are, Carlise."
She rolls her eyes. "That's only you, Lee Lee."
Rosalie doesn't say anything back at her but a smile hangs on her face.
I've done my fair share of research. I mean, I do incredibly love Klarise's music, so I did pretty much internet stalk her when I was younger. Her family, back in the days, the big Kong empire, where they owned several companies in the U.S. and back at their homeland China, is where she was from. She was actually born in the U.S., San Francisco, raised and taught English and mandarin. About twelve years later, her parents had another baby, who they named Jackson, also known as Kong Jian Min. Too bad later their company was found to be a big illegal drug business and was taken down later on in the years. Both her parents went to jail. But luckily by then, Klarise had already made a name for herself and had her own pretty large amount of net worth, which she then kept the family name going in her own way. Her brother, who later then married a model, had a daughter, who is Carlise Kong, now standing in front of me.
"So um, how do you know me?" I now ask Carlise.
She looks at me, and the way she does, it makes me feel so...I don't know how to explain the feeling. But it's like I'm supposed to know and yet I don't.
Instead, Rosalie answers for her. "Carlise's father and Maeve were good friends. That's how Carlise and I know each other, so she basically knows pretty much everything going on between Maeve and you."
"What?"
Carlise quickly cuts in. "Lee Lee, you're going to mess up her head." She turns back to me. "Don't freak out but...I kind of know who you are."
I blink at her.
And right when Carlise is about to say something else, Rosalie cuts back in. "You're Maeve's daughter, that's that. There's nothing special to it."
Carlise is frowning at her, clearly either mad or frustrated.
None of us talk on the rest of the way up. The elevator, for what felt like an eternity, finally opens.
Rosalie scans the card Carlise has given her at the lobby on a black screen on the elevator, which I think is what opens the elevator door for the penthouse.
The light is tuned to a warm-welcoming orange color, and the whole place is just something that'll make you blink several times to make sure you're really here. The foyer we now enter, the ground is made of glass and below the clear glass you can see water with fancy striped gold fishes (probably very expensive) swimming along. WOW. OK.
Carlise, who doesn't really seem to be struggling much, carries the cardboard box while saying something to Rosalie in mandarin. And it sounds like a scold.
When we're in the living room, setting our stuff down, where the entire right side of the wall is made of clear glass, overlooking the view of what almost looks like a quarter of Beijing. I must be gawking again because Carlise then laughs.
"I know right, this place is a real piece of treasure."
I turn to her, unable to speak by the luxury of this whole place. I just nod dumbly like a puppy.
"In logic, I think this penthouse would have belonged to me." Carlise says, eyeing Rosalie with a soft look in her eyes.
Rosalie relaxes herself into the large silk sewed sofa, she watches Carlise, rolling her eyes again.
"Yeah, in logic. But in truth, it is mine." She smirks at her.
"Um, may I ask what you mean?" I ask Carlise.
She stares at me in confusion for a moment, which then turns into a full realization of something. "Ah, sorry. I keep forgetting how much you don't know."
I frown at her when she says that and I can feel Rosalie glaring at Carlise as she speaks.
But Carlise doesn't seem to notice because she smiles. "My aunt actually, you know, Klarise Kong, she used to own this penthouse. Well, this was practically her home here in Beijing back then. Which then means it would be passed to my father after her death, then after my father would be me. Except, Maeve bought it from my father before the penthouse even got under my name. And now," she grins at Rosalie. "The penthouse is under Lee Lee's name."
"Why would Maeve do that though?" I ask.
"Buy the penthouse from my father? Well of course because——"
"Don't you need to get to work soon, Carli?" Rosalie now stands up and walks over to Carlise.
"Because what?" I ask, frustrated that Rosalie is interrupting again.
But Rosalie talks over me and soon enough, Carlise is about to head somewhere else.
"It was really nice to finally meet you, Izzy. After hearing basically your whole life, I've been dying to actually get to know you in person."
What does she mean? She knows my whole life? Why does everyone seem to know everything except for me?
I yell something at Carlise but she doesn't hear me. She's already changed into a blouse and business pants, her hair still sticking all over the place, and heading out.
"I'm coming back for dinner, Lee Lee. And you better not order some outside food again, I'm cooking!"
She grabs a spare card and all of a sudden she is gone and it's just me and Rosalie again.
Before I can speak, Rosalie speaks first.
"No more questions. You'll listen to Maeve's life-story, you'll do whatever preparations you need and when we're done, you write it. Or don't write it. Do whatever. But no more questions today. We'll start the story tomorrow." She sets the cardboard box down on a glass table across from the long outstretching sofa and marble reflecting floor.
Rosalie shows me to a fancy big room, the walls hanging several posters of Maeve's films throughout her life and even some of the special collection of Klarise's concerts and music albums are here. The bedroom style is set at a modern and more future looking way and vibe, just like the rest of the penthouse. A large bathroom which is about the size of the apartment I rent back in L.A. is also in this room, and the floor is probably also marble but it's made into the pattern of fake wood. There's a balcony too, where a small hot tub with a table and some chairs are outside. The bed is probably king size and I'm guessing the sheets and pillows are all silk or just some other super good quality material I don't even know. This is definitely the life of terribly rich people.
I turn back toward Rosalie, who has been standing behind me, and I try to contain my monstrous amount of shock at this whole place.
"I need to get to film set now. We can start the story either tomorrow, or at night. But I'd prefer tomorrow." She stares at me and I realize it's not a question. Rosalie has already made a decision, and when she does, she won't let anyone else change it other than her.
"OK."
I want to ask her how Maeve is friends with her nemesis' brother. I want to ask her what film set and what the hell Carlise was about to say back there. And why are there Klarise Kong posters in this room? There's so many questions but I think even if I ask, I won't get an answer to any of them.
"You can start unpacking while I'm gone. And when it's around dinner time, can you call and order some food?"
"But Carlise said she'll cook." I can't believe I have to remind her myself.
She smiles, as if half laughing at herself. "Right, trust me, you do not want to eat what she is cooking."
I raise an eyebrow at her and she only smiles more.
"Fine, don't order anything then." She's already leaving the room when she stops by again. "And Izzy?"
I look up from my suitcase I'm opening. "Yeah?"
She smiles, but it looks a little forced. "I'm sorry about not telling you about Carlise and how she knows about you."
"It's alright." It's actually not alright but what does it matter now to argue that some random stranger apparently knows my whole life?
She lets out a little sigh. "Things are just...complicated. But you'll know why soon enough."
I smile back at her but I don't understand any of this still.
She tells me to rest well and then she's gone. And I'm left alone in this too big and fancy of a place that I don't think I belong. But I want to. This should have been me. If Maeve really is my mother, then all of this should belong to me. And yet, I don't know what to believe or who I really am anymore.