Incensed by Ed Lin Page B

accent. Thought we were British, right?”
    â€œI did,” I said. “You got me.”
    â€œWe don’t want the wrong people to know we’re Americans!”
    Bob came up and rubbed his pink sea-anemone mouth. “We can tell you’re not the wrong sort of people. Did I really fool you?”
    I nodded and smiled. If I played along, they’d buy more. “Yes, I fell for it completely. It was perfect.”
    The other two guys gathered around. They looked like retired cops—walking around with guarded casualness. A surprisingly high number of American tourists are ex-police. I guess the word was out among them that Taipei was a great vacation place that was seemingly crime-free. What they don’t know won’t hurt them.
    â€œWait a second, hold on now,” said Bob. “Are you an American? Your English is just a little too good.”
    I crossed my arms and smiled. “I went to college in the States,” I said, not mentioning that I never finished. “You’re Bob, right? Please call me Johnny.” I shook hands with him. He had to buy something from me now. You can’t not buy something from someone whose name you know. I made sure to introduce myself to each of them.
    â€œWhat have we got here?” the ex-cop named Jeff said to himself as he cast a critical eye upon my award-winning skewers. “How about that one? What the heck is it?”
    â€œYou don’t want that one,” I said. “I think you better go with something safer. It’s too Taiwanese for you.” That would challenge their manhoods.
    â€œJeff is tougher than he looks,” said Bob. “This man’s seen murder victims.”
    I raised an eyebrow and threw out a challenge. “Well, Jeff, do you think you can handle pig uterus? If that’s too much for you, the chicken uterus is just to the left.”
    Jeff sucked in his lips and opened his eyes wide. “I’m not even sure what the uterus does,” he said with a nervous smile. “How about, you know, a straight-up beef or chicken thing?”
    I reached over the counter and touched his shoulder. “I’ve got you covered, Jeff. We’ve got satay-style chicken and beef.” I called out in Taiwanese for Mei-ling to bring over the goods from the main grill in the back that was manned by Dwayne.
    All four men immediately evaluated Mei-ling’s teenage cleavage as she transferred a tray of skewers to the front grill.
    â€œI didn’t know,” said Bob, “that Taiwanese women were so alluring.”
    I shrugged. “I don’t think of her like that,” I said. “For one thing, she’s my cousin, and she’s sixteen.” Three of the men shoved their hands in their shorts pockets while Jeff let out a low whistle. I didn’t know what the age of consent was in the US but it sure wasn’t sixteen, which was Taiwan’s. “Say hello to the customers, Mei-ling,” I said in English.
    â€œHello,” she said. Like most Taiwanese, she sounded nice and innocent when she spoke English. I pointed out the intestine skewers to the men.
    â€œMei-ling made these herself. It’s only her first day but I think she did a pretty good job. Should I add these to your order?”
    â€œOh, yeah, we want to support Mei-ling,” said Bob.
    â€œSure thing,” said Jeff. I loaded them up with skewers and even threw in a small bag of sausages. Mei-ling thanked each of the men. They looked at her wistfully as they left.
    â€œI should have told them I was a singer,” Mei-ling said. “They would have bought my songs!”
    â€œThey wouldn’t get your kind of music,” I said.
    She pouted. “They would’ve bought it just because I’m cute. I could tell.”
    I couldn’t argue with her. They had gone for her hideously asymmetrical (by my standards) skewers, which I’m sure they wouldn’t have the guts to eat.