Free This Is a Bust by Ed Lin

had gone to Harvard. Free ride. Everybody knew about it. People were in awe of Barbara and her three younger sisters. They walked through Chinatown like four princesses. Even in their plastic sunglasses and flip-flops, they were the best-looking things south of Canal. When those girls left for college — and of course, they would all go to college — they were leaving Chinatown and never ever coming back.
    I didn’t need to hear about how rich Barbara was. How rich and white her stupid husband was. And you knew he had to be white. How she was expecting twin boys and how they were going to win the Heisman Trophy and the Nobel Prize.
    Barbara a nd I weren’t even people to each other anymore; we were only visions of what could have been in each other’s respective worlds.
    When the event was over, I got out as soon as I could, even though I knew Barbara was still tied up backstage. I wasn’t sure what I was scared of.
    A waiter on the way out handed me a brown paper bag. He just missed giving me a clap on my back as I blew past him.
    A few blocks later, I found that the bag held a red envelope and a bottle of Cutty Sark. It was 2215. Drinking time.

Chapter 5
    Forty-eight hours to Chinese New Year. Time was slowing down. No one in Chinatown is ever in a rush, which pisses off native New Yorkers when they come down here. Chinese people like to walk slowly, and ideally, side by side. They always run into people they know coming from the opposite direction. Then they all stop, creating a logjam.
    The holiday ju st made it worse. Canal Street was more crowded than the subway. With foot traffic at a near standstill, I had enough time to read the front of every red holiday card stacked on folding tables that crowded the sidewalks even more. “Prosperity” was the most common single character for wishes in the year of the dragon.
    I sa w a break open up. I jumped through it and turned off onto Elizabeth Street.
    Two unchaperoned kids, a boy and a girl who looked too young to talk, were lighting up fireworks on a manhole lid.
    I grabbed them by the backs of their jackets and made them sit on the curb. They started crying when I took away their fireworks and lighter.
    â€œYou’re going to blow your fingers off!” I yelled at them. They cried as if no one had ever yelled at them before.
    It was likely. Probably spoiled by a grandmother while  the mother and father put their souls to the grindstones at work.
    I took two Tic Tacs from my pocket and stuck them in their mouths. It’s amazing how quickly children can lurch from miserable to happy. Candy to keep them happy in Chinatown. Cigarettes in Nam.
    I felt re ady to go to Martha’s and see Lonnie. It turned out that I got doughy Dori instead.
    â€œHow are you doing, Dori?” I asked.
    â€œI’d tell you to eat less because you’re getting fat, Officer Chow, but that would be bad for business. Hot-dog pastries in the morning.” She was shaking her head.
    â€œHey, you bake them this early, why can’t I eat them? My uniform’s feeling pretty loose on me, anyway.”
    â€œThat’s because you’re not as fat as the average policeman. But don’t worry, you’ll get there soon. Hey, take your change. I don’t take tips.”
    I muttered something under my breath that made her smile.
    â€”
    Vandyne had left a message on my desk. We weren’t official partners anymore, but it was as if we were forever bonded, having been each other’s first. I’ve heard plenty of stories about cops who are closer to their old partners than their new ones.
    The message said that Willie Gee had called for me again. The tabloids had been hammering at him for a while, but the New York Times had just reported that the State Attorney had filed charges against Jade Palace, citing the restaurant’s apparent short-changing of its workers. If Willie Gee didn’t like it, he should call up the state