The Hunt for Good Neighbor

By Jason Lee

What do bears, gangsters, and faith all have in common? You can find all these elements in the riveting tale The Hunt for Good Neighbor. Author Jason Lee explores the themes of repentance and salvation through the

• Language: English
• Publisher: New Degree Press
• Release date: Aug 24, 2021
• ISBN: 9781637304860

Jason Lee

Just a guy with a vivid imagination trying to get his naughty stories out there to the world.

Book preview

The Hunt for Good Neighbor

Jason J. Lee

new degree press

copyright © 2021 Jason J. Lee

All rights reserved.

The Hunt for Good Neighbor

Cover illustration by Christina Lee

Bible verse taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV® Copyright ©1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

ISBN

978-1-63676-744-4 Paperback

978-1-63730-485-3 Kindle Ebook

978-1-63730-486-0 Digital Ebook

Contents

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Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Acknowledgments

Not to us, Lord, not to us but to your name be the glory, because of your love and faithfulness.

—Psalm 115:1

Chapter 1

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Annette sat upright in her bed, clutching her worn, now-gray blanket in both of her fists. She assessed her bed, spotted and stained, and her blanket, too short to cover her feet. Crossing her legs under the cover of her blanket, she frowned at the disruption from the door.

She wiped at her face and cleared her eyes. Her jet-black disheveled hair rolled behind her ears down to her narrow shoulders. Her pale skin glowed in the light as she covered her almond eyes against the harsh glare.

David pounded his knuckles into the door from the long hallway. The ring choking his index finger made a sharp smack against the light wood door that echoed throughout the musty, dank hallway. Each thud shook the striped brown-gray wallpaper in the room. The walls were too thin for his heavy hand.

The fat, suited young man pleaded from outside her door, Get out of bed, Sister. Father is waiting for us; you need to hurry. He pressed his round left cheek against the door and listened for any semblance of stirring. Not hearing a sound, he kicked at the bottom of the door and stormed off, mumbling, I will just eat your breakfast, then. His waddle, caused by years of rapid weight gain, had a unique sound. The inconsistent rhythm of his footsteps trailed off down the hallway before David called out to taunt her, She refused to get up, Father.

In the dark room, dust sparkled in the morning sun that beamed through the barred sub-basement window. The beam of light flickered as the legs of men and women on their way to work passed by her window. Saddle shoes and heels clacked as they struck the pavement.

Annette tossed the blanket off her face, sending the dust to swirl madly around her like pushed water.

Just one more day in this room.

She visualized a future in which she could sleep in and wake up in a warm room decorated and fully furnished.

Turning her slight frame to the side of her bed, she stepped gingerly on to the cold cement and stared at her empty room. She put on some pants, shoved her feet into her flats, and sprinted down the hall. Breakfast was about to start.

Father is not going to be happy.

As she climbed the stairs, she ran her fingers along the grainy walls. The aroma of white pepper and sweetened pork welcomed Annette as she came up to the ground floor and into the cafeteria. It was an open space with rows of long tables and benches, dimly lit by floor lamps. Heavy curtains hung over all the windows. Nothing was allowed on the walls; the only form of decoration was the Wong symbol painted on the far wall behind Father’s seat. The symbol and the circle surrounding it was a brilliant gold color that caught the dusty-yellow light off the floor lamps well. The kitchen was behind that wall, accessible through a swinging door in the corner. Every time someone passed through the kitchen door, garlic-infused steam burst out.

The room was large enough to comfortably seat all twenty children and twenty of her father’s men. They all sat according to their station. The children sat with Father at the end of the room, parallel to the far wall and the other tables filled the rest of the room, perpendicularly.

The men, sitting shoulder to shoulder eating, worked for Annette’s father, Mr. Wong. According to Mother’s family history lessons, they all immigrated from the same part of China with Mr. Wong after he moved his business to America. Each of them had their own unique tattoos and facial hair, but at a glance, they were indistinguishable from one another. Their suits and attitude were consistently monotone and dull. They all maintained shaved heads as part of the uniform.

The men laughed and gossiped quietly. They hunched low over their bowls of food but kept their hands off the cutlery. As Annette walked, she checked to see if any of the men looked up at her.

Father would tell her in his deep raspy voice, These are my men. They work for me and my family, so they work for you. Never let them look you in the eyes; it is a sign of disrespect. The men need to know their place. If they ever act out of line, you let me know right away.

She made sure to test the men every morning. It was fun to experience that bit of power, even if it only lasted a moment. As she walked, the men tucked their chins and stared down their noses. The feeling of authority straightened her posture. She made her way to the end of the room standing straight, chest puffed with confidence. In front of her father, however, her shoulders slumped forward and her chin lowered slightly.

Mr. Wong sat quietly holding his paper. He never looked up, just comfortably sat back in his chair. Only Father got a chair, placed under his painting to maximize its majesty. He owned every inch of the room from his throne. His fingers, adorned with golden rings, wrapped tightly at the paper’s edges, bunching it together. He relayed his thoughts often to the others at the table but never noticed Annette waiting to be seated. The children sat with their hands on their laps, listening intently.

Annette stood in front of her father and siblings with her hands crossed in her lap. The older siblings wore clean suits and dresses, all black. The young ones wore the same clothes she wore growing up—old, passed-down shirts and trousers.

Mr. Wong pursed his lips and folded the paper, handing it off to the small boy next to him. From the shirt covering his round belly to his grand mustache, neatly trimmed, everything on him looked expensive. Look at this, he said, whipping his knuckles against the inside of the paper, they are always trying to take food off our tables, children. Not right, not right at all.

The child opened it up and echoed his father with a scoff, Not right.

David leaned over the table and flicked the boy lightly on the head, snatching the paper from him with the other hand. That is the comic, little brother. You are reading the wrong page, he jabbed playfully. The children around the table laughed together while the poor boy studied the floor to hide his blush.

Mr. Wong softly rubbed the back of the boy’s head while chuckling. He spotted Mother slowly approaching the table and urged her to hurry in Mandarin.

Mother sped up the pace of her short legs. Despite the urgency, her face remained stoic and focused. She carried four trays of food at a time, in her usual white blouse—never staining a single inch of fabric. She tied her medium-length hair back with a red ribbon she kept in her apron.

Treat him nicely, David. You must look after each other, Mr. Wong commanded. That is why none of you eat unless…? He lifted his chin into the air and waited for the answer.

The table answered in unison, We eat together.

Smiling with just his lips, Mr. Wong combed back his hair with his hand. His greasy, salt and pepper hair formed to the shape of the rings passing over them. Quickly, Annette, your siblings need to eat their breakfast. Where is your dress? Are you not going out today? He lifted his hand, palm down, and flicked his fingers into his palm, signaling Annette to sit.

With his permission, Annette sat in an open spot at the end of the table and answered, No, Father. I have no errands to run outside so I just wore these.

Very well, but remember when you go outside you represent my name. You are a Wong. Wear your presentable clothing out in public. Now, children, eat up. Remember, when you work hard, the family eats well.

You could give me presentable clothes to wear all the time. If we hate everyone outside, why do we dress nicely for them?

Annette had one dress meant to be worn for trips to the grocery store. She never wore it for anything else, just the weekly trips with Mother to the store. It was her only time to sample life outside her walls, a reason to dress up. She smiled thinking about going out.

With their food in front of them, Mr. Wong’s children responded, Yes, sir, before digging into the congee and buns.

After the children were served, Father looked up at the rest of the room and announced in Mandarin, Eat. Spoons clinked bowls and the low murmuring continued.

Breakfast was an ordeal of its own. Mr. Wong held his informal lessons over congee, warning his children about the world. Be on guard, children. This is a vicious place. I had to build all of this by myself. They tried to stop me. They tried and tried to keep me down, but I worked hard and became successful. You know, if you let them, they will take everything from you, he lectured. Long after the bowls were empty, Father continued his diatribe against the world until he was red in the face. Speaking and eating were two of the only four things Annette had ever seen her father do. The other two were smoking his cigarettes with the red stripe and lifting a glass of vodka.

Annette pictured herself in her father’s seat, feared and comfortable.

Mr. Wong continued lecturing throughout the course of the entire meal. If anyone offers you food, they are trying to poison you. Never accept anything from them. When I first arrived here, no one helped me. I taught myself English by reading old literature from the library and now I speak it better than they do. I not only made it possible for our entire family to become rich, but I made it possible to sound rich and look rich. Believe me, children, this way is how we build our empire; this is how you become part of it.

After breakfast, the children adjourned to their rooms to wash up before lessons. Annette sat quietly on her bed, staring with a blank expression at the floor. She drew circles with her toe, through the hole in her sock, daydreaming of a nice car like David’s. She saw the passing landscape and the open road.

David poked his head in and asked, Why are you skipping lessons?

Annette continued to perfect her circles. I won’t have to go to anymore lessons either.

Why are you ignoring me? Are you nervous about getting your ring tomorrow?

She looked up at him, eyebrows raised, and asked, Were you happy to get yours? What is it like having your own place and your own car? Do you feel free?

David walked in slowly with a smug smile. He dusted off the bed to protect his onyx trousers before sitting down. Do you like the car? It just came from Detroit, you know, the latest model. My house is nice as well, a bit empty, but I sleep on a big bed now. I made it, just like we talked about. I worked hard, did what I was told, and Father rewarded me. He gave me a nice part of the family business. I do more than some of the older brothers and sisters, you know.

She stared wide eyed at him. And what about being outside of the city? Is it any different?

David pulled his suit forward by the lapel and shifted in his seat. The springs groaned under his weight. He shrugged, You go out to the store, you must have seen it yourself. Hardly special. Everyone is the same everywhere. They work, and then they go back inside to their little houses. Some people just sit around all day and sleep outside. You live a good life here, you know. Why are you always talking about getting out of here?

You sound like Dad, Annette answered dismissively, pushing herself out of bed. I meant what is it like outside of Billings, Montana? You got to go out for your test, tell me already. I need to get out of this basement. I feel trapped here. She stood over him with her fists on her hips, hoping for an answer.

David looked up at her and frowned, You know the rules. We are not allowed to speak about our tests. Always so impatient, you get to see for yourself tomorrow. Also, there is nothing wrong with sounding like Father. Look at everything he ever did. He taught himself English, created this giant business, brought all of us over, who else has done something like that? He emphasized the word Father with volume.

Annette knew it bothered David to hear the word dad because it’s what the outside world used. David, like father, looked down on informality; they said it was poor people behavior. She got a kick out of getting him worked up over Father’s rules.

He flashed his gold ring in her face, waving it back and forth, Look, all I can say is that it is worth it. Trust me, Sister. He made me rich overnight. I am important in this family. I never have to worry again. Maybe if you showed an ounce of respect, he might give you one too.

This is going to change everything.

Annette playfully slapped his hand away before running out the room, giggling. David did his best to catch her. He made it about halfway down the hall before giving up to catch his breath. He winced and patted his forehead with a white handkerchief. Annette stuck her tongue out at him from the end of the hall before walking into class.

Mother walked in a few minutes later. She was out of her apron, still prim and proper. Her blouse held no creases and was tucked perfectly into her long skirt. Every strand of fabric kept its place as Mother paced slowly around the room. Her flats made a soft clapping noise against the tiles.

Ten of Annette’s younger siblings sat straight in their seats, taking notes and listening intently. When Mother spoke, the children transcribed dutifully into their notebooks.

In the back of the classroom, Annette sat staring out the window in the door. It was the only window in the classroom, so Annette entertained herself watching people pass by. She fantasized walking up the stairs and out from within these walls. The only part of her that moved though was the hand that mechanically drew circles into her notebook. Even the men obeying orders, carrying boxes, moved with purpose.

This is so dull. I know all of this already. I should be out there, earning.

It was hard to tell how much time went by or when it was. The light over the room buzzed constantly like flies; time stood still. Mother droned on through family history. After family history, Mother taught English out of the same book Mr. Wong used to teach himself, The Tale of King Arthur. She recited lines out of the book to teach sentence structure and vocabulary. The students filled in the blank pages of their notebooks. No one but their family spoke this way, but Father insisted they all spoke this way.

For math, Mother handed out textbooks for each child to study from individually. Annette had her book open on a page full of shapes and angles, geometry work she had already done last year. She kept it open and doodled.

An eternity passed for Annette before Mother led the class in reciting family values, something done at the end of every class. For some reason, knowing that something boring was ending always gave her a jolt of energy. She sat up in her chair.

The family is all I have, all I need. I will not eat unless their bowls are full. Fortune is earned together, lost divided. Father and Mother protect us, feed us, shelter us, and guide us. They give us life and so we in turn live for them.

Annette lip synced along the best she could. She could never muster the conviction to learn the pledge. They were hollow words, gift wrapped junk. Her life felt empty and meaningless trapped in this partially underground world. There was no reason to memorize all those words.

Mother never noticed. Every day was the same; she picked up her books and waited for the children to stand before walking out. The children stood at attention longer than usual this morning, watching their parents speak outside. Something was amiss. Mr. Wong entered a room of silence and submission; even the ceiling light stopped buzzing.

Sit down, children. As you know, your sister, Annette, turns eighteen. Like your older brothers and sisters before her, she will have the privilege of serving the family. The privilege to bring the family fortune. She will pass her test and receive one of these. He picked a small golden ring out of his jacket pocket, waving it in front of the wide-eyed children. Should she pass. When she passes, Annette will be made whole. Success, fortune, and power will be hers, as her reward from me. Work hard in your classes, children, so that when you are of age, all this will be waiting for you as well. Remember, children, we brought you from across the world into our home and offer you a place in it. Earn it with your loyalty and diligence.

Mr. Wong surveyed the room, taking in the hunger in each of the children’s eyes. His thick furrowed brows and heavy bottom lids concealed most of his eyes, but he met each of their gazes. When he was satisfied with their reactions, he smiled and tucked the ring back into his pocket before heading to the door. The children rose to their feet and waited for their father to make his way out of the classroom. At the door, Mr. Wong turned around and chanted his daily mantra, It is us versus them. Never forget that, children.

The morning lessons concluded, and the children were dismissed for free time. The little ones raced to the cafeteria to play; the older children followed at a lethargic pace, dreading their usual chores.

David stopped Annette before she could join the others for cleanup duty and asked, Where are you going, Sister?

Annette answered, monotoned, What do you mean? To clean.

David grabbed her by the arm, leading her backward without letting the other children notice. You test tomorrow. Father wants you to be ready, so he has given you the rest of the day off. The corners of Annette’s mouth twitched and amused David, who chuckled. Oh, you seem happy, now. Go on, enjoy the free day.

Annette let loose a full smile, skipping backward to her room. She dove face first into her bed, committing fully to her first free day in weeks. She propped her head up on the biggest lump in her pillow and visualized giving orders to her future employees. She imagined David going outside to drive around in his car. He would be seeing the rest of the world from his leather interior.

He has everything.

Every day, David came in to eat breakfast then left to either buy something or to take care of business far away. She yearned for that sense of purpose. David was making