DJ Hendrix put on “Finesse” by Bruno Mars. The upbeat tune filled the space, inciting a ripple of cheers among everyone.
Plates of Chef Foo’s food continued to be passed out to the rest of the attendees and the hum of conversation and laughter grew louder.
Beside me, Chen had finally slowed down with eating. “Cousin!”
I raised my eyebrows. “Yes?”
His eyes were wide as fuck and sweat beaded on his forehead. “This. . .is what life is about.”
I nodded. “It is.”
Fen glanced at me and chuckled.
I leaned her way. “Thank you again.”
“No problem, Mountain Master.”
“You’ve earned a special favor from me. Come to me, any time, any day, and I will grant your wish.”
Fen widened her eyes. “I’ll take it. Thanks.”
DJ Hendrix—absorbed in his realm—shifted the atmosphere with a swift transition into another Bruno Mars' popular hit, “Uptown Funk.”
The pulsating bass echoed through the yard.
I swore the lanterns swayed with the rhythm.
Apparently, Aunt Min knew this song well because she began singing the song to Einstein as they ate and played Mahjong.
And Einstein, he looked to be enjoying himself as he roared with laughter.
Suddenly, DJ Hendrix took an unexpected turn, weaving Michael Jackson's “Billie Jean” flawlessly into the mix.
Several from Rowe Street Mob and even the Four Aces wailed in approval.
I checked the Judge’s table and was shocked to see that Dima and Rose were no longer sitting over there.
O-kay.
They had rose, moved to the side and started dancing together.
It made sense because Dima was an insane Michael Jackson fan. When we were kids, I could never quite figure out how he managed it, but somehow, Dima had a new MJ look ready to go, every time.
When we were ten, he was “Thriller” Michael—red leather jacket, single glove, and those black loafers. The wig on his head was absolutely ridiculous. Dima even tried to do the zombie dance down the street, but with his short legs at the time and chubby cheeks, it just looked like he was waddling.
Another year, he was “Bad” Michael, with the black buckled outfit and the serious expression. Dima loved trying to look serious, but he'd always crack a smile whenever he saw someonegive him a thumbs up. Of course he would jot whatever down in this sparkling special MJ Halloween notebook.
However, I think my favorite had to be when we were teenagers and he was visiting from his new boarding school. It had been a huge surprise. He showed up to the Killer Crews Halloween party out of the blue looking like “Smooth Criminal” Michael, with a wavy, black wig, perfect white suit, and fedora.
Maybe, we should have a Halloween party this year. I would love to see what Michael Jackson Dima would come up with this year.
It was strange that I was planning for the future, with my father’s upcoming battle just tomorrow night.
Even more, before Moni, I had been ready to die.
Now with her in my life, all I wanted to do was live.
And where is my father right now?