Buddha Baby by Kim Wong Keltner

Program, as if the corroboration of information was so dangerous that the knowledge of it could still get themselves, their offspring, or future generations whacked, deported, or barred from American success should any hundred-year-old indiscretion be revealed.
    Needless to say, Lindsey didn't understand why everything was so hush-hush. She was raised during the Oprah-Geraldo-Jerry-Springer era, when people routinely parlayed careers out of gabbing convivially about White House lap dances with un-deraged metrosexuals. She was used to E! Channel confessions and didn't get why anyone would want to keep secrets in this day and age when divulging your bullshit made you rich and a hero for at least fifteen minutes. Unlike old-school Chinese folks, Lindsey would hardly consider one person's disgrace a mark against Chinese people as a whole.
    Sighing, she closed the album. She felt a little guilty for swiping it, but vowed to replace it when she returned to her grandparents' house for another round of cleaning. She was scheming about how to further excavate details of her grandparents' earlier days when the phone rang and interrupted her train of thought.
    It was Michael. He told her the vegan
owsla*
had confiscated his phone and he was calling from a booth in the hallway of his ashram cellblock. He said that he convinced them he was an
    ————————————————-
    *This was the Psychic Food Ashram's term for their "peace officers" who roamed the dormitory halls in search of contraband items such as outside food that tasted too good. The enforcers took their name from a hierarchical group of rabbits in
Watership Down
because they thought themselves peaceful, vegetarian animals. Although one of the ashram's tenets was that eating meat created aggressive behavior, Michael said he found the
owsla
more intimidating than any carnivore he had ever met, especially when they searched his suitcase and ruthlessly confiscated a peanut butter sandwich that Lindsey had packed for him. They said commercial peanut butter possibly contained pork hormones and claimed they would throw it away, but Michael suspected they just ate it when no one was looking.
    acolyte seeking spiritual guidance and was dedicated to ingesting only raw legumes and fruits that were free of bad vibes. No one trusted him yet, and in fact, he thought the phones were tapped because he kept hearing clicking noises. Or perhaps that was just his TMJ, which acted up when he didn't eat enough protein.
    The ashram had recommended he begin his stay with a three-day fast. He said, "If I don't call you within two days just drive down here with a rib eye in a bag and throw it over the fence."
    "You'll be fine," she said.
----

Jook Singin' in the "Rain

     
    "My tour bus is about to leave, but real quick, could you just explain the history of Chinese painting?"
    That's what a Hoarder Lady said to Lindsey just as she was about to take her fifteen-minute break.
    "No hablo ingles," Lindsey said, then walked away.
    She left the gift shop and took the elevator up to the third-floor gallery. Strolling around for a while, she eventually settled on a bench to study a Chagall painting. She stared at the watery blues and a floating bride, and as she sat there a little longer, tapping her feet on the floor, she suddenly felt hot cigar-breath wafting from behind her head.
    She had hoped that today she would be left alone, but she was wrong. Hearing a familiar hissing noise, she anticipated the question she heard every time she tried to wander through the museum like a normal person.
    Since the first day she started working in the gift shop she had been harassed by the security guards, all older Filipino men. It seemed they couldn't wait to set her up on dates with their nephews or themselves, and every week they approached her and wiggled their long eyebrows and chewed their bottom lips as they studied her. Today was no different. As she sat and waited, the uniformed man