Roman Holiday Pt. 01

All characters in this story are 18 years or older.

PROLOGUE - A PICNIC TABLE AT UC BERKELEY IN 1995

"George Zhou, with a 'Z'" said the young man putting out his hand towards a beautiful 24 year old Chinese American woman who sat intently reading her textbook as she held aloft a freshly lit 120 cigarette. Next to her on the table was a pack of Virginia Slims Menthol, a cheap lighter, and a Starbucks coffee cup.

Ignoring the young man, she gracefully brought the 120 to her lips, turned the tip orange, and inhaled a ball of smoke with a snap. After holding the precious cargo in her lungs for several seconds, she slowly exhaled through her nostrils.

"Excuse me," he said again, "I'm George Zhou...."

"Yes," she interrupted him without looking up, "with a 'Z.'" The young woman continued to read as she again brought the cigarette to her lips every half minute or so.

This was clearly not the reaction the young man expected, but he refused to be deterred. "May I sit down?" he asked.

"It's still a free country," she said with her eyes fixed on her book, "though we'll see what happens with the next election."

"Ah, a politico," George said as he took a seat across from her.

"You've got a problem with that?" the woman replied, still not making eye contact.

"Absolutely not. In fact it's so uncommon to find someone interested in politics here in the Socialist Republic of Berkeley."

The young woman smiled. She hadn't heard that one before. She closed her book, brushed back her shoulder length black hair, and looked up at the young man across from her. "Okay, George Zhou with a 'Z,' you've got my attention. Now what?"

"I can read people by just looking at them," he said confidently.

Oh, this guy is a piece of work. She looked at her watch and had several minutes to kill before class, so she decided to play along. "I see," she said before taking another puff and holding it in several seconds. She turned her head to the right and let loose a jet stream of smoke. "Well?"

George brought two fingers up to his temple and looked intently at her. "You grew up in the Bay Area."

The woman made no reaction. Most students at Cal grew up in the Bay Area.

"You're ABC (American Born Chinese), but I'm guessing your parents...no, your grandparents originally emigrated from the Hunan region," he said.

That took her by surprise, and he saw that it did. He moved on even more confidently.

"You...have a twin sister...but you don't get along with her."

"Stop," the woman said. Clearly this man knew some very personal details about her. "How do you know these things?"

"Ahhhh, intuition." The displeasure on the young woman's face told him he needed to give a more satisfactory answer. "And a Yahoo internet connection to research the Chinese lineage of your last name - Chou."

"And the twin sister?" she asked.

"I've spied her on campus, but I've never seen you two together. And when identical twins go their own separate ways, that tells me there's friction between them."

"Hmph," the woman said thoroughly unimpressed. She again looked at her watch.

George could see he was losing her, so he decided to go for broke. "There's more! I can tell everything about you from your smoking."

"And he has a smoking fetish," she said derisively as she picked up her book and cigarettes and prepared to leave.

"Indeed, I do," George replied earnestly as he reached across the table and lightly touched her hand.

"And he is honest about it," the woman said with a raised eyebrow. Her interest now rekindled, she put down her things and once again took a seat. She very casually brought the cigarette up to the side of her mouth for a full puff, maneuvered her bottom lip for a beautiful French inhale, and exhaled above George's head after holding it in for several seconds.

"You know," he said, "there's a lot you can tell about a person from the way they smoke; from the brand they choose; even from the way they hold their cigarette." He paused and just stared at her.

"I'm listening," she said staring back.

"Virginia Slims," he said as he picked up her pack and pulled out a 120, "a distinctly feminine cigarette that obviously sends a deliberate message of, 'I'm proud to be a female smoker.' You don't like the masculine image conveyed by smoking a common brand cigarette, but you also don't want to sacrifice the rich flavor that a menthol 100 brand can provide. Fortunately," he added before putting the cigarette in his mouth, lighting it with her lighter, and inhaling a full puff, "Virginia Slims provide a surprisingly smooth and silky experience that is extremely pleasing. It's definitely a choice that maximizes physical pleasure."

"Of course, location," he continued on with the wave of a hand, "is also an important factor that we need to take into consideration. You're an exhibitionist," he said pointing the cigarette at her accusedly. "You are the only one smoking here in a public place. Youwant other people to see you smoking because you know how good you look."

"Which finally takes us to the most important factor: the distinct physical qualities of the cigarette itself. You chose a 120 because it exudes sensuality and seduction. Indeed, you are confident in your feminine sexuality. But a super slim 120 would highlight that to an even greater degree. No, you chose a VS-120 because it's thicker than a super-slim but thinner than a 100. A Virginia Slims 120 puts forward a clear statement: you're looking to convey dominance while still celebrating your femininity."

Thoroughly pleased with himself, George ended with the following statement: "Taking all of this into consideration, it would have to be a brave man indeed to ask you out on a date."

Throughout his whole presentation, the woman wore a smirk on her face as she listened. When he was done, she wondered whether she should clap. She certainly found his description fit her to a T. She brought the remainder of her cigarette up to her lips, took a 4 second puff as she stared into his eyes, snapped back the smoke, and dropped the cigarette into her Starbucks cup while exhaling from her nose.

"Well, George Zhou with a 'Z,'" she said ripping a blank page out of the back of her textbook and pulling out a pen, "if you are as brave a man as you seem to think you are, here's my number." She handed him the piece of paper, stood up and turned to head to class.

"So will you marry me?" the young man asked boldly.

"Absolutely not," she said with no hesitation as she walked away.

"One day you'll say yes," he hollered.

CHAPTER 1 - ARRIVAL AT AUNTIE NANCY'S

Twenty Years Later

"Hey Mom, are we there yet?"

Lisa and her twin brother, Jacob, giggled in the backseat after asking their mother this question in unison. It was a running joke in their family as the two teenagers knew that there was no better way to get a rise out of their Mom. Normally the joke received a wry "ha-ha" from her, but not today. Today Jennifer Chou was focused on getting her two kids over to her twin sister Nancy's house where they would reside for the next ten days. Jennifer had a vitally important conference to attend in Rome where her presentation would determine her career advancement. Normally she thrived on such pressure, but the stakes of this trip abroad were so high that there were moments when she thought she was going to crack mentally.

There were ways, of course, that she dealt with this kind of stress that was so normal in her management role in a high tech company: Yoga, long walks, a glass of Chardonnay. For now, though, she would have to work through the stress the old fashioned way: grit and bear it.

Lisa, an 18 year old who was the spitting image of her beautiful mother, including an oval face with high cheek bones and dark black hair (though Lisa kept it long while her mother preferred it short to the base of her neck), was pretty mature for her age. She could sense her mother's anxiety, and wished she could find the words to comfort her; but she also could not hide her own concerns about the living arrangements for the next ten days. "Mom," she said, "you know we love Auntie Nancy; but she smokes A LOT. I'm kinda worried about the health effects from all that second hand smoke."

Jennifer eyed the off-ramp that would take her into her sister's Palo Alto neighborhood. "Well," she said with a glance in the rear view mirror at her daughter, "I grew up in a two bedroom home in Marin where everybody smoked, and it didn't affect me any."

Given a choice, Jennifer would have preferred to leave her kids with someone else; but ten days was too long for either a babysitter or to leave them on their own as she might do for an overnight business trip. Nancy was the only family she had left. But it wasn't her sister's smoking that she worried about; it was that the two of them were not as close as they once were before Jennifer decided to leave home at 18 and live on her own. The sisters still got together for holidays every few months, but Jennifer never felt completely comfortable around Nancy, especially when they were alone together.

"I don't know how you could live with three smokers, Mom. I'd go crazy."

Jennifer made a right turn. "You get used to it," she said blandly with another right turn onto a tree lined street. "Besides, Auntie Nancy's house is pretty big. You probably won't even notice her smoking unless you're in the same room."

"Why are you so down on smoking?" Jacob asked his sister in a whisper.

Lisa looked at him like he was an insane person. "Uh, because it causes lung cancer???"

"That's only if you smoke for a lifetime," Jacob said, glancing at the rear view mirror to see if his mother was listening. "Besides, I think it smells kinda good."

In truth, Lisa did, too - though she never understood why. When she was a little kid she loved watching Nancy's smoke tricks, especially the way she could exhale enormous rings. Sometimes she would just sit on her Auntie's lap and watch how she would cock her head and blow long, flowing streams of smoke. But every child wants to grow up and be a smoker - that is, before they learn about the health consequences. As they grow older, most come to reject it while some keep their desire to smoke a secret. Lisa knew she was one of the former, but she now wondered whether her twin was a member of the latter. "You're crazy," she whispered in exasperation.

Jennifer eavesdropped on their conversation in amusement. Weren't there bigger problems in the world to worry about over rather than whether people wanted to smoke or not? She believed so...and with that final thought, she passed through an open gate and turned on to a private drive-way which brought the house into view.

"House," in fact, was a misnomer. This was a luxury 15 bedroom mansion with two separate live-in wings, an in-door open-air atrium, home theater, game room, and ballroom, all located on several acres with tennis courts, gardens, a redwoods grove, and an extravaganza Roman villa pool and entertainment complex. There was even a third floor to house live-in help (though Nancy only relied on Ayi, an old Chinese woman, who cooked and did light housekeeping). The space was obviously far larger than one person needed; but her late husband used it as a showcase for business associates; and she still found it useful for hosting events related to her charitable foundation. As young children, Lisa and Jacob loved running through its hallways and many rooms looking for hidden passages. Lisa would imagine that she would find a secret garden somewhere on the estate. Visiting Auntie Nancy's house was always something they looked forward to since there was so much to do.

Now that they were older, however, they wondered if it would be as exciting. And they were particularly worried about their mother's decision that they could not bring electronic devices. "What are we supposed to do for fun?" they complained.

"Read!" she admonished them like any good Tiger Mom would. "Study for your Stanford courses!" Indeed, the twins were both accepted to Stanford for the Fall, but they also wanted to enjoy what little free time they had left before the hard work began.

"But it's summer," they complained.

"Do you think your future classmates are taking a summer break?" she always replied. "Do you know how hard I had to work to get into Stanford and then Berkeley?" Jennifer was a third generation American, but there were times when her kids wondered if she had just gotten off the boat from China.

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Jennifer drove her sedan up to the front door with the expectation that she would make a quick get-away once she got the kids settled. After all, she worried about traffic into SFO and the security line before boarding. But before leaving she knew that she needed to have a chat with her sister.

"Don't forget your book bags," she said to her kids as they climbed out of the backseat. The twins frowned at one another, but they knew that their mother meant well. This was, after all, a close-knit family. They had to be since their parents' separation, followed by a bitter divorce and unbreachable gulf between father and children. They didn't know if he was dead or alive, nor after a decade did they particularly care. For the last ten years, Jennifer raised and financially supported them completely on her own.

Looking as professional as always in a black pinstriped dress suit, Jennifer rang the doorbell while standing behind Lisa and Jacob. When the door opened, a very young looking Chinese teenager wearing a white blouse, brown blazer, and black slacks was there to welcome them. She wore her hair at shoulder length and parted to reveal a beautifully smooth forehead. Her gorgeous, round face reminded Jacob of a movie star. It was love at first sight, he thought. If she's living in this mansion, this was going to be a wonderful ten days.

This was a new face to Jennifer and her kids, but they were not surprised since Auntie Nancy had often sought to financially help young Chinese female immigrants from her ancestral village in the Hunan region, offering to pay their school expenses in the U.S. and give them work in her employ.

"Ni hao, wo jiao Ling," said the young woman with a wide smile.

The twins stared at the girl dumbstruck.

"Does she think we're Chinese?" Jacob whispered to his sister.

"We ARE Chinese," replied Lisa out of the side of her mouth to her brother.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," the beautiful teenager said in a moderate Chinese accent. "Hi," she continued, "I'm Ling. I'm Miss Nancy's assistant." She pointed towards the inside of the house. "Miss Nancy is expecting you. Please come in, Miss Jen."

"Thank you," Jennifer said with some irritation as she ushered in the kids first and then lingered behind to have a word with Ling. "And you'll refer to me as Ms. Chou," she whispered sternly in perfect Chinese.

"Pardon, Ms. Chou," the young woman replied in Chinese with embarrassment as she stared down at the floor. "Please," she said nervously as she pointed towards the living room, "this way."

Jennifer didn't particularly enjoy playing the role of Queen Bitch, but she was a stickler for protocol, and this assistant - or whatever she was to her sister - had no right to call her by her first name; letalone her nickname.

When they were all together in the living room, Ling knocked on a pair of sliding doors which led to the library.

"Miss Nancy," she said after knocking. "Miss Jen...." Ling corrected herself. "Um, Ms. Chou and her children are here."

"Ms. Chou?!" a voiced boomed from inside the library. The doors slid open quickly. "Ms. Chou??! Jen, have you been bullying the hired help again?"

A light-skinned woman in her late 40s with long, jet black black hair that flowed down past her shoulders emerged with a freshly lit Virginia Slims cigarette between her fingers, the tip of the 120 glowing brightly against the darkened backdrop of the library. Dressed in a Cal sweatshirt and blue jeans, this stunningly beautiful woman had a stern expression on her face - which then melted into a wide smile. "Kids! What are you doing here?!"

Despite her partiality for bad jokes, Lisa and Jacob were very fond of their auntie, and both gave her a big hug. As they did so, Jacob breathed in deeply through his nose, loving Nancy's smell: a combination of mentholated second-hand smoke and expensive perfume. Lisa was determined to hold her breath, but even she couldn't help taking a whiff. This aunt just smelled so good to her.

"And how are you doing, sis?" Nancy asked as she embraced Jennifer who responded with a half-hearted hug. It was an uncomfortable moment that everyone noticed. "You ready for a Roman Holiday?" Nancy asked in the hopes that it would dispel the tension that suddenly filled the room.

"I wish itwere a holiday," Jennifer replied as she smoothed over the creases in her suit created by the hug.

Nancy desperately sought to lighten the mood. She put her arm around Jennifer's shoulders, not noticing that she had dropped a bit of ash that nearly burned her sister's sleeve, and said with a big smile to the kids, "You'd never guess we were identical twins" - a line she repeated often, but one that was never more true than at this stage in their lives. These two sisters could not be more different.

Anyone who saw them together would often be struck by their different tastes in clothing. While Jennifer strove to present herself always in professional attire, Nancy was usually more comfortable in thongs, shorts, and a tie-dye T-shirt. Though Nancy's wealth allowed her to circulate in social circles of the upper-crust in society, she never let go of her humble origins growing up on a commune in Marin County, and she continued to remain a free spirit. She was a 44 year old hippie who believed that the best way to live your life was to ENJOY all that life had to offer. Time is short, she would often say, and the offerings of life are abundant.

Of course, it's a helluva lot easier to enjoy life if you have a lot of money. Nancy was lucky enough during her study at Cal to fall in love with an engineering geek who quickly made a fortune from a series of Silicon Valley start-ups. After graduation, they married and embarked upon a joyous five years together fighting for the progressive causes they both cared about. Sadly all of it was cut short when he was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Nancy was left a childless widow, but also extremely rich. Swearing she would never marry again, she set up and personally maintained a foundation in her husband's name that continued to donate millions of dollars to worthy causes and charities.

But it wasn't just Nancy's style of dress and politics that made her seem a throwback to the 1970s; it was her smoking. Nancy LOVED to smoke and grew up in a decade when the activity was not only accepted but still celebrated. Perhaps it was her wealth that gave her privileges "normal" people don't have, but Nancy was unafraid to light up whenever and wherever she wanted (except at Jennifer's house where she was only allowed to smoke on the patio). It seemed she always had a long cigarette between her fingers. She was an absolute connoisseur of smoking, displaying a variety of styles for both inhales and exhales. She was an exhibitionist who loved being watched. What's more, she knew how good she looked holding an all-white 120. Even Lisa, despite her opposition to smoking, had to admit to herself that her auntie was indeed a classy smoker.

In contrast, Jennifer grew up to be the rebel on the hippie commune, choosing the path of a hard-core free market conservative who rejected the "share the wealth" philosophy of her sister and parents. Her belief in individual hard work is what got her into Stanford on full scholarship where she studied computer engineering, and then an MBA at Cal's Haas School of Business. She was driven. She was tough as nails in leading her team at the Italian owned technology firm where she worked; but she was also highly respected for her brilliance and ability to motivate others to achieve the team's goals. She didn't make friends easily; and though she was totally devoted to her kids, she struggled to find a balance between her commitment to family and her professional goals.