Year of the Rat

Brady turned the lock on the front doors of Mondo Sushi. It clicked shut after the last group of customers left. They had bellies full of the freshest fish and saké available on the east coast. He swept his orange hair out of his face and checked the scene through one of the ornate, wooden windows. It was a snowy night in early February, a night so frigid and blanketed in slush that it was almost impossible for the average city dweller to wade through.

Brady’s duties as bartender and bar manager had come to a close for the evening. Ninety percent of which constituted reading a magazine or a tattered Agatha Christie novel.

He wiped the service bar down with a clean cloth. It was a slow job compared to when he worked at the Irish bar across the street but the pay at Mondo was nicer.

He began unpacking the decorations for tonights annual Lunar New Year party. Stacks of boxes waited to be opened. It was the “Year of the Rat” which represented quick wittedness.

Tony Dong arrived early to help set up as well. He’s a tall guy with black hair that was always freshly cut. He towered over most people. Brady unfurled the step stool for himself and they went to work adorning the mahogany walls, windows and host-stand with red and gold twisted streamers. The slick and spotless sushi bar was dotted with glowing paper lanterns. Red tablecloths, gold silverware and moon printed napkins were meticulously placed on all the tables. They used tongs and dropped dry ice into two enormous porcelain dragon statues, creating the illusion of rolling fiery smoke along the floor. The restaurant’s dark and elegant wooden decor shined the brightest once a year.

The best part was the red envelopes with a generous amount of money in them.

“Need help, Frankenstein?” Brady lovingly referred to Tony, who had trouble blowing up the last gold striped balloon. Brady missed him now that he was promoted to liquor representative and was not in the restaurant as a server anymore. The pair would always laugh during dull times. He did get upgraded to wear a suit and drive around the city, selling the family brand of saké—which they both found cool—but it just wasn’t the same.

The owner of Mondo sushi was Winnie. Standing about five feet tall, she wore a sensible black bob haircut and donned an expensive brand of glasses. She always sat at the bar which was situated so she could keep an eye on the front door. Watching replays of basketball games, she correctly and efficiently did the books.

Head Chef Zee watched the game too, leaning over the back of the next chair. He stood up straight and retied his black chefs cap. “The Knicks are looking good this year,” he ruminated, rubbing his forearms from all of the days chopping and slicing.

“Mmhm,” Winnie dotted an ‘i’.

She licked an envelope and jumped at the sudden obnoxious knocking coming from the front.

There was a face in the small circle window in the middle of the door. The face belongs to Tina but she prefers to be called Teetee. That’s what her name tag says at least.

“LET ME IN!” She smiled a toothy grin and smashed her face against the glass. Her pixie cut looked like she did it herself. While she’s actually a grandmother, she’s convinced she’s younger (and hipper) than she really is. Winnie thinks she’s delusional. Delusions aside, she’s an honorable, yet sometimes lazy, server.

“LET ME IN!” She smiled big.

“We’re doing it, calm yourself.” Head Chef Zee unlocked the door and reluctantly let her inside. She ran past him with her purple and pink backpack and darted into the back of the restaurant.

“You have too much energy for a sixty year old!” he called after her.

Winnie didn’t stop thumbing through receipts.

Five minutes later, Angel, another server, politely tapped on the door. Her arms were full of tests to grade. She worked part time at the local community college— teaching Chinese and English. She’s only twenty, with long, black hair that was exceptionally shiny. “She must use the best conditioner,” Everyone would gossip.

Brady stopped dusting the shelves and liquor bottles to let her in.

The nieces and nephews arrived at the same time and immediately played some indoor cornhole with the bussers and dishwashers. Winnie kept saying, “Watch the vases!” over her shoulder.

Mr. and Mrs. Johansen were the last to arrive. The Dutch couple were long time friends of the family and restaurant. “Go Mondo!” they would sporadically cheer. They sidled nervously into the restaurant and stood at the front, on the welcome mat. They were too polite sometimes. Dressed to the nines, they patiently waited for Winnie to notice them.

“Hello!” Winnie jumped down from her barstool and gave them a big hug. “It’s been so long, I’m happy you came, can Brady make you a cocktail? Gosh, I haven’t seen you two since our bike rides in Amsterdam.” She gushed.

Well, that’s everyone!

Tony Dong hit the stereo and the music blasted. The light machine came on and colorful circles and shapes drifted around the room. The fog machine kicked in and oozed smoke. Adults helped themselves to the bar that was decked with large dispensers of red sangria and coolers of free beer. Kids picked voraciously at any appetizers that were out, including fried calamari and dumplings.

Winnie, in all her generosity, immediately started passing out the red envelopes that were filled with one possible surprise. The employees all munched on mooncakes as they opened their gold foiled flaps to see how much they got. It was customary to gossip about what you received as it was usually one hundred dollars for each person.

Brady took a huge bite of the mooncake and immediately hit the yolks.

The yellowy-orange globs macerated in his mouth. He couldn’t decide if he liked it or not.

“Hm,” He shrugged, “savory.” He finished the cake and wiped his hands on his work pants.

Parents carried sleeping nieces and nephews while saying their "good-byes." The dishwashers brought their extended family and took home to-go plates. The party was in full swing and people had graduated to doing shots of rail whiskey.

Teetee pounded on the laser karaoke machine. She jumped around like a nut. Her mall jewelry flopped around her wrists as she screamed, “I’m holding out for a hero, you guys! Yeah!”

Angel flicked her hair and did some kind of weird dance with her fists and thumbs and tiny kicks.

Head Chef Zee emerged from the silver kitchen doors and declared: “The kitchen is now off limits as I prepare a special celebration for your taste buds! To honor Winnie, who has been in business for ten long years. She has given us ten Lunar New Years! I will now prepare all of her favorite delicacies from around the world. Winnie, you’ve done so much for us. This is to thank you.” He pointed and clapped, starting a round of applause. He smiled warmly and backed into the kitchen.

Teetee answered with air guitar.

Tony and Brady were wearing sunglasses at this point.

Mr. and Mrs. Johansen slow danced in the corner, a little drunk.

The music faded away as Zee washed his hands in the stainless steel sink in the freshly vacated kitchen. He pulled out the biggest wooden boat shaped party platter they had. He chopped and did the labor intensive cutting first before thinly and expertly slicing the variety of exotic fish he had flown in from around the globe. This included all of Winnie’s favorites. He delicately placed each sliver on a palm sized ball of rice.

“Perfect.” He let out the breath he was holding.

There were colorful rows of endless sushi, sashimi and nigiri. Ten rainbow rolls with shrimp tails poking out that snaked around the boat. Finally, a whole avocado, masterfully carved like a dragon head, sat menacingly at the bow. Everything was dotted with black and gold caviar. (This last portion was from his own paycheck.)

But most importantly he made the Mondo roll. The family seal and their most popular dish. He made it for the ten thousandth time and it came out more perfect than ever. It was orange, red and brown and was completely deep fried. He poured a bright sauce all over it and spelled out “congrats” before showering it with red flakes. It was the finishing touch to a celebratory banquet.

He placed a sparkler and adorned the middle of the giant boat with it. He stepped back to admire his work.

“Sheer perfection,” he declared in the empty kitchen.

The lights flickered twice and then went out.

“Great— hello there?!” He called out. Nothing. “Who’s there?” Zee demanded of the darkness.

A heavy frying pan slammed down and smacked him on the head. He was still awake so it whacked him again. Everything went black.

Brady felt around. The whole restaurant had gone dark. He took a step and— Bang! BANG! “A gun, get down!” Brady screeched and waved his arms. He yanked the sunglasses off his face.

Men and women yelled bloody murder in the dark.

“It’s just the balloons!” Winnie tried to calm everyone down.

Pitch black madness.

“Get your hands off my purse!” One silhouette accused another.

It was pandemonium and the moonlight streaming in through the balcony windows wasn’t helping anything.

Suddenly, a loud smash and glass shattered to the floor.

Cold air rushed in.

Everyone grabbed their arms and hugged themselves in the dark.

“What is going on here?!” Mrs. Johansen called out, presumably clutching Mr. Johansen’s arm.

The lights flicked back on.

Everyone grasped for their organs and appendages.

Tony was behind the sushi bar, he still had his finger on the hidden switch panel. It was hard to locate. Even he had to feel around under the bar for it.

Were they alive? Yes, but for how long? They wondered.

Head Chef Zee kicked open the kitchen door with a fiery howl of pain. He gripped his crumpled hat and had a big welt on his forehead.

“The boat,” he nearly fainted, “she’s gone!”

“Oh!” mouths dropped open.

Everyone remembered the huge crash. They slowly turned around to see a shard filled hole in the bay window. A piece became dislodged and fell to the floor with a “clink.”

Snow and frigid air blasted in and blew back everyone’s hair. Anyone with bare shoulders had the deep chills.

“Lucky, I brought a coat,” Teetee was ever useful. She promptly put it on herself, definitely not offering it to anyone else.

Winnie and Brady peered through the shattered window and down onto the ground where the crime scene was scattered to the winds.

A beautiful wooden boat of exotic and rare fish, wasabi, ginger roses, chopsticks, rice, all the thoughtful creations, smashed to pieces on the concrete outside. Amber roe rolled around in the breeze. Brady couldn’t see for sure but it looked like seagulls were flying off with California rolls.

“Someone threw the prized sushi boat through the window," Tony added it up. “who would sabotage someone as honorable and generous as Winnie?”

Especially on her tenth anniversary as a business mogul.

The Johansen’s, who gasped the loudest, hugged each other and were shaking.

“What the hell is happening?!” Mr. Johansen demanded of the room.

Brady spotted a perfectly preserved glob of wasabi on the ground next to the window, near the broken glass. It happened to have a foot print in it.

He pulled out his phone, no service. But he used the flash to take a clear picture. He brushed his orange hair out of his eyes and looked at the evidence.

“It’s a lightning bolt!” Brady stood up and announced to the guests.

“Right... So we should check our shoes!” Winnie stepped in with authority. Everyone got the picture and began to look down.

A mounted swordfish hung on the wall and watched the awkwardness unfold as everyone checked their feet, laces and soles.

Nothing.

“Now what?”

Winnie had an idea, “Check each other’s shoes!” she knew something was up.

“No!” Teetee stepped away demanding everyone stay back. “Don’t touch me!”

“It was you, you have light up shoes. I remember seeing the lightning bolts.” Angel pointed a shiny nail at her coworker.

Tony and Brady grabbed Teetee and lifted her into the air while she kicked and flailed. Winnie snatched her foot and looked at her hot pink soles. The humiliation for the poor grandmother. But it was true, they all saw it. A rubber lightning bolt that matched the wasabi footprint next to the glass shards.

Winnie started to call the police. No service.

“I can’t believe such waste,” Angel buried her head in her hands, her straight hair was disheveled from dancing, “the message was so sweet.” she lamented.

Brady paced and finally intervened. “No way. It couldn’t be her. I’ve been running her food all week because she’s old and lazy. There’s no way she could have lifted the boat. It was at least thirty pounds of food,” he reasoned. Teetee pursed her lips and looked away, unamused.

“Maybe it was Tony!” The fickle crowd turned, “after all, he was next to the light switch.”

The group descended further into chaos. Mr. And Mrs. Johansen wanted desperately to leave but were snowed in at this point.

Angel got in Tony’s face, Teetee started to scream that everyone was fired but her, Brady put his sunglasses back on and opened a beer.

“Knock, knock, knock.” Everyone stopped throttling each other and stared at the front door.

“Who’s that?” They collectively whispered.

Angel spied through a window.

“It’s Mr. Tiramisu!” She whispered, “What do we do?”

“We have to get rid of him!” Tony Dong suggested. “Maybe he did this?” They called him tiramisu because they never bothered to learn his name. He just sold a lot of tiramisu.

The Dutch couple groaned at the thought of being accomplices to whatever this had turned into.

Brady opened the curtains and there he was. A slender and very short, kind looking man with a pencil thin mustache. He owned the Italian Gelato Palace across the way.

“Hello? I heard commotion. I just wanted to make sure everything was all right.” He timidly spoke through the door while gripping his bowler hat.

The lock clicked and the heavy door opened. Brady’s head peeked out.

“That’s really neighborly of you, but we’re just fine,” he lied.

“If you ever need anything let me know.” Mr. Tiramisu said earnestly. “You know, I’m always here for you guys. Just trying to be helpful if you, uh, ever need anything.”

“Ok, thank you!” Brady slammed the door in his face and the room started to spin again.

Who did this to Winnie? What person would ruin a ten year anniversary celebration?

Winnie went to her office and slammed the door. She had heard and seen enough. Emerging on a walkie-talkie, she nodded and quickly hung up. Within minutes the pavilion security arrived and descended upon Mondo Sushi.

Several mall cops filed into the restaurant.

“Ms. Winnie, which one of these guys did it?” Robbie, head of security was out of breath from the dash over. The tallest officer drew a night stick while another talked into a walkie-talkie. “Well, ma’am, who did it?”

Winnie savored the moment. “This one’s easy,” Winnie clapped her hands together.

“Right there!” She pointed while fixing her glasses.

She pointed directly at Angel.

“Me?” Angel threw her head back and laughed. “What do you mean? Me?!” She protested and flicked her gorgeous hair.

In less than three seconds Angel turned into a right demon and showed her true self.

“I knew you were jealous that I promoted Tony Dong over you but I didn’t think you’d stoop so low. It wasn’t until you gave yourself away…”

Winnie ran through the events of the night again but stopped at one key detail.

“How did you know Chef Zee wrote a message on the boat? He was the only one in the kitchen. No one could have possibly known.”

Angel gulped. She was busted—and definitely fired.

She dropped to the ground and started chucking scattered food and seaweed salad at everyone.

Growling, trying to throw clumps of steamed tofu at Winnie. But security stopped her, they grabbed her elbows and put a halt to her sloppy carnage. She had clumps of seaweed paper in her hair.

“Take her away!” Brady was pumped to get to say.

“I guess you could call this one the ‘year of the brat!’” Tony Dong added.

“We’re just taking her outside, the best we can do is kick her out.” Pavilion security corrected Brady and Tony.

“Oh.” They said.

Tony Dong slapped Brady on the back way too hard. Winnie ordered pizzas to help everyone wind down. Chef Zee iced his head.

The party was over and Winnie and Brady sat at the bar. Most people had fallen asleep in the pantry because they weren’t safe to drive. Some ran through the snow if they lived close.

The two watched a rerun of a basketball game that played during the party. Winnie did paperwork and already started an insurance claim. Brady drank a water.

“Do you think the Knicks will make it to the playoffs?” Brady was feeling energized and chatty after helping Winnie solve the crime.

She thought for a second.

“I’ll give you a raise if they do, how about that?” She laughed. Her cheeks were still red from being cold.