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Allen holds up the notepad. Well, there's this letter here to some Hungarian dude

C.J. takes an especially long swig of Jack Daniels, the rim of his glass touching the bridge of his nose, all the better to hide his eyes. That's for Mr. Wang, he says.

Ah, Mr. Safety Glass. Your father know him, Carol? Carol is now in Allen's lap. His hands rest on her arms, as protective as a nursery school teacher's.

Probably, Carol says. She wrinkles her nose~a stray bit of ash from Allen's cigarette has landed on her knuckles. She wrinkles her nose but does nothing. C.J. recognizes the type: she disapproves of his smoking but respects his

sovereignty as an independent human being enough to let him do what he pleases.

Her father knows everyone, Allen continues. You ever meet him, C.J.? Tough mother. When we had the Presidential election back in 1996, he was organizing all the local taxicab drivers for the KMT and Lee Teng-hui. So what does he do when he finds out that a rival taxi company is organizing for the DPP? They rumble it out, right in the middle of town. West Side Story. Epic. Yellow taxis going against green taxis. People breaking out baseball bats and lead pipes. And the yellows kicked the greens' asses in the end. And I am forever indebted to Lee Teng-hui for winning.

How's that? C.J. asks.