The Queen of Tears Read Online Free

little Monica. She ran a lavender fingernail on the scar and felt a different kind of tingling. Then she grabbed her black thong panty from the bed and put it on.
    She sat at her dresser and picked up the much smaller hand mirror that lay face-down. She sighed and looked at her face.
    She knew she was pretty. Yet for some reason, she was sometimes unsure of it. She’d often been called “the kind of girl who actually looks even better without makeup,” but sometimes she just didn’t feel attractive. Sometimes she felt her face was too dark. Sometimes her eyes were too green. Her father’s eyes. At times, she wanted to pluck them out. It would be like shucking oysters.
    Sometimes her chin was too big. Sometimes her eyebrows were too bushy. Sometimes she looked too Hawaiian. Sometimes too white, too haole. Nobody told her, but she suspected that everybody saw either the too-dark or too-light version. Everybody, except for Donny Park, her little yobo boy. Donny was perfect. He was shorter, uglier, and more irresponsible than her. And the best was that he couldn’t get it up. He’d make the perfect husband.
    They’d met two years ago at Club Mirage, the most well-known all-nude strip bar in the state of Hawaii. She was dancing her third set to the standard, long-haired, hard-partying, now-defunct eighties rock music, when Donny, wearing khakis, a black Polo shirt, and wire-rimmed shades, sat at the stage in front of her. He was thin, a little shorter than she was, and his wide Asian face had the cutest little adolescent mustache. His hair was Asian standard issue; short on the sides, no sideburns, gelled, side-combed. Straight and a little bit spiky. He put his thin forearms on the edge of the stage and let his long, thin fingers stretch across the surface. When she squatted in front of him, he smiled and looked away. This surprised her. She thought the sunglasses were enough for him not to see.
    The last song, “Poison,” ended. She loved Alice Cooper. Despite the fact that she was completely naked, Donny’s eyes never focused on her for more than a couple of seconds. She stood up from her stirruped position, smiled, then put on her florescent green thong bikini and walked off the stage. The green glowed especially bright because of the black lights. Before she made it back to the dressing room, the bartender handed her a margarita. “From that Korean guy over there.”
    He pointed to Donny, who was now sitting in a booth. He was quick. Crystal thought maybe he was a high-roller. He dressed well and seemed to have no problem ordering her a twenty-dollar drink. He’d sat at the stage, seemingly willing to tip her. At this job, you never knew, though. Even blue-collar guys and college kids seemed to come in here and spend incredible amounts of money. But if you went shopping with them the next day, you’d see them break out into a cold sweat with every item you charged on their credit card. But this Korean guy looked harmless enough, and it was a slow night, the tourist industry crumbling and all, so Crystal sipped her margarita and walked to the booth.
    When she sat down across from him, her ass squeaked against the cheap red plastic of the seat. She was still sweating. Bon Jovi’s “You Give Love A Bad Name” blared. More inspirational music. The booth shook slightly because of the level of the bass. Donny’s black shirt had lint on it. Crystal smiled. “Didn’t anyone tell you never to wear a dark cotton shirt to a club or a strip bar? You become conspicuous because of the black lights.”
    Donny looked down at the glowing lint on his shirt and smiled. His teeth did not glow very much. Hard-core smoker or coffee drinker or hygiene neglecter. “Sorry, I’m not a regular.”
    His voice held a faint accent. She could tell he was Korean, but now she knew he was first-generation Korean, F.O.B—Fresh Off the Boat. Even though his accent was very light, she still felt uncomfortable. The owner of Club Mirage,