“Crazy God Mother” Excerpt 4, New York

New York is fancy, but not as fancy as my social life.

“Love that guy, wearing LV shoes, he must be rich.”

“Not only needs to wear LV shoes; he needs to have everything LV.”

“And have social life status.”

“Like what?”

“Like going to private party and tasting expensive wines and wears a watch which people normally don’t know.”

“Why?”

“You cannot tell a fixed Rolex or starring at the watch to determine whether it is not counterfeit.”

“Makes sense.”

I was learning English from Friends while going out to hang with people in my class. Class means, I am a newcomer international student who only has 400 dollars spending budget to have leisure fun while expanding my social circles.

I felt that is needed because I felt friends are resources. Having more friends means there may be opportunities available for me which only available for “friends”.

After I met new friends, I did not hang out with old friends.

God forbid, I did not know it was wrong.

Friends should be, something remains still forever.

But fate also plays a role. Sometimes when they are married or move to another city. They are gone.

Sex also plays part of the role. If the friends talk with you and the topic is abut Sex, I listened, but not anymore. Because it is not accurate.

It is similar to someone believes I like people from Congo but actually I like people from Iceland.

“Yeah babe, you always know what you want and cannot have,” Kwat.

“He is cute,” me responded.

Also, when I found that rich black guy, I felt my life is a secret which cannot be shared with anyone.

You don’t know how I was and still feel I deserved it while taking it for granted.

I did not like the sex.

The test was, how to make him pay me.

You cannot ask money every week, too obvious. New York never lacks attractive people.

“What was my selling point?” I asked Kwat.

“Fun personality.”

I talked to that guy for like about 6 months online. At the beginning, he was just a joke for me. A joke that I was just passing time and practicing English with him. Sometimes, we made phone calls.

“Babe, now it is a new mission. If you get it, the gift is yours,” Kwat told me.

“What’s the mission this time?”

“You go to the street vendors and tell them their products are fake and illegal selling here in the United States,” Kwat answered.

“And then what’s next?”

“If they try to leave, you buy one product. If they don’t, you call the police,” Kwat followed.

“Ok,” I answered.

I walked to the street vendor who sells LV purses and said, “sir, Tu Comprehended the Product Counterfeit licensure and the police apprehended, you jail.”

The vendor ignored me.

“Ah, POLICE!” I yelled the sound and then walk back to Kwat’s car.

Kwat covered his face with his both hands.