TITLE: The Paper Crane
GENRE: Women's Fiction
The trip to work was one hell of a ride. Not only did the cabbie claim he used to be a stunt driver for Jackie Chan, he insisted on demonstrating his demented expertise. He made a hairpin swerve right before the light turned red, slammed the brakes until the tires squealed, and snaked his way through dense traffic on the Cross Harbour Highway. Clutching my seat, I mulled over the eulogy my sister would give at my funeral when we jolted to a halt. My heart pounded, hair ruined. I scrambled out of the cab.
"This is not Hollywood!" I paid the fare, adding a lousy tip for keeping me alive.
A whiff of stinky tofu--sold by a vendor across the street--made my stomach rumble, but no time to stop for a snack. I strode past the sliding glass door into Wah Hing Building and found a maintenance sign blocking the elevators. They've got to be kidding! Z Entertainment Talent Agency, my office, stood on the tenth floor.
I eyed the security officer slouched at his desk. "The elevator's not working again?"
"Don't know." He yawned, mouth wide open to reveal a nasty abyss. "Ask Jimmy."
A gust of garlic-laden breath raided my nostrils. I grimaced. "Where's Jimmy?"
"Don't know." He sniggered and flattened his enormous belly against the security station, resuming his daily reading of Master Wong's Sure Win Horse Racing Manual.
I checked my watch. Ten minutes to my appointment with the diva queen. Locating Jimmy, the maintenance guy, would be futile.