02x05 - Dim Sum Lose Some

Episode transcripts for the TV show, "Pushing Daisies". Aired: October 3, 2007 –; June 13, 2009.*
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A man with the ability to bring the dead back to life uses his power to solve m*rder cases and to reconnect with his deceased childhood sweetheart.
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02x05 - Dim Sum Lose Some

Post by bunniefuu »

Previously on Pushing Daisies: My mom d*ed and my father deserted me in boarding school.

I haven't heard from the man in 20 years.

- I'm Charlotte's mother.

- Oh, my God.

Lily is Chuck's mother.

I'm happy that I know I have a mother who's alive.

Not so happy she can't know I'm alive.

Somebody always loving somebody they shouldn't be loving.

I'm quitting you! This is your home.

Where will you go? I know a place.

- Shh!

- Shh! I came here to keep your secret, but I'm staying to keep one of my own.



- One that I could never tell you.



- Tell me.

I still love the Pie

-Maker and he loves someone else.

You're thinking about living here now, aren't you? I'm not moving out, I'm just moving next door.



- You wanna come home?

- I do.

Come on, Pigby.

Let's be roommates.

Welcome home.

Humans and dogs are the same.

Supply the right cue and they respond accordingly.



- Slick.



- You don't know slick.

Mm

-hm.

There once was a Pie

-Maker who had a gift: A touch that brought the dead to life.

The gift followed these rules: Touch a dead thing once, alive.

Touch a dead thing twice, dead again forever.

Keep a dead thing alive for more than a minute something else has to die.

Long weekends at the Longborough School for Boys were a quiet time as most children went home to their families.

There were those students, however, who gathered not out of friendship but because they had nowhere else to go.

Young Ned found himself a member of this elite group.

Ingmar Todd was the son of roving missionaries.

As there was very little else to do Ingmar's room became a center of activity.



- Place your bets, gentlemen.



- He had arrived at boarding school with a professionally certified and balanced roulette wheel and a tawny owl named Casper.

All young Ned had to wager was the box of chocolates he'd hastily snuck into his suitcase the day his father dropped him off at boarding school.

It was then he noticed the note tucked into the box.

He realized the individually wrapped chocolates currently in play had been intended as a gift to him from his dearly departed mother.

Bets are closed.

Like many beginning players, young Ned bet on both red and black but failed to consider the double zero on the wheel.

Double zed.

House wins.

He lost everything.

The lesson was clear: In gambling no matter how well you think you know the odds there's always an outcome you can 't see coming.

During the years that followed the Pie

-Maker avoided taking gambles, with a few notable exceptions.

He invested his life savings in a bakery at a time when carbohydrates had fallen completely out of fashion.

And more importantly he had gambled on the love of his childhood sweetheart the girl next door who had returned from the dead.



- Mm.

Try this.



- Like the fork.

Like being alive.

It's a new flavor: Spring passion fruit.

It's not spring here but it is in New Zealand, which is exotic and upside

-down which is how we could serve it.

Betting on Chuck had made the Pie

-Maker happier than he had ever been.



- We'll put it on the menu.



- Oh, I like Daring Ned.

It seems since you arrived, Cautious Ned has left the building.

Who's the guy in the booth? The handsome, brooding older man with a sensual twinkle? Plus, he smells good.

He mumbled something odd to me earlier.

There was no word that described the feeling the square

-shouldered older man had given the Pie

-Maker.

Do you ever shiver when you pee? That's how I felt when he spoke.



- More coffee?

- Thanks.

Pie is delicious.

As good as your mother's.

He said that? Did he know your mother? I didn't ask.

A stranger says a strange thing chances are I misheard or misunderstood.

Maybe when he said "your mother's pie," he didn't mean my mother he meant everyone's mother: The iconic all

-American mother created by advertisers as a shorthand for family values and a longing for baked goods.

Would that make you shiver? If someone said something about my family, it'd give me jitters but I'd ask them about it, not hide.



- I'm not hiding.

I think he's cute.

Hi.

I'm probably making a mountain out of a molehill over a comment I probably misheard.

I'm hoping to offset any awkwardness you will be feeling by providing your slice of three

-plum on the house.

You're a nervous talker, like your dad.

This complicates things.

You may need to pay for the pie.

Dwight Dixon.

I was a friend of your father's 25 years ago.

I mean, you are Ned, am I right?

- Nope.



- Yes, you are, silly.



- Hi, I'm Olive.



- Hi, Olive.



- Kitty.

Kitty Pimms.

Nice to meet you.



- Kitty.



- So you knew Ned's parents?

- Yeah, back when they were dating.

It was the peak of peach season.

She baked a brown

-sugar crust.



- Your dad didn't have a chance.



- Never mentioned you.

Oh, I was in the service with your dad, before you were born.

Your dad didn't like to reminisce.



- Probably a lot he didn't talk about.



- Sounds familiar.

I'm actually trying to find him.

I was hoping you could help.

Really love to see him.

You got his face, especially around the eyes.

The Pie

-Maker had hoped never to be likened to his father

- whether around the eyes

- We lost touch.

or the heart.



- Twenty years ago.



- Oh, that's a shame.

Any thoughts on where I might look? Nope.

While you're speaking from a good and helpful place it's not good and helpful to me, so As Chuck marveled at the Pie

-Maker's refusal to help search for his only parent Emerson Cod marveled at the digestive coma produced by beef balls and curried cuttlefish from the dim sum restaurant downstairs.

His phone silenced, Emerson knew the world of clients and murders would soon be lost in the cloud of a power nap.

What the hell? Arriving downstairs in search of a new case the PI stumbled on one from his past: Simone Hundin, obedience expert and widow of deceased, polygamous dog breeder Harold Hundin.

While investigating her husband's m*rder Emerson and Simone had forged a close bond.

Emerson Cod.

Simone.

What have you been up to? It was a friendship that had very nearly, but not quite, become Breeding.

My Bubblegum's in heat.

It was a long night.

Sit.

But what a treat bumping into you.

I didn't know you were a dim sum connoisseur.

Best pork buns in town.

My office is upstairs.

It's a dangerous combination.



- Bun?

- No, I'm really trying to, you know The private investigator considered how his inescapable desire to be obedient to this obedience trainer was at once thrilling and terrifying.

Then he remembered his case.

Hey, did you send me a message in a cookie? Wasn't me.

I find there are more reliable ways to send a message.

Mm

-hm.

Heh

-heh

-heh.

Leave it.

It's been a pleasure, Mr.

Cod.

Perhaps we'll cross paths again.

Fortunately, Emerson had a distraction from his conflicting impulses: A client.

Excuse me, ma'am.

I'm Emerson, the private investigator from upstairs.

Did you by any chance contact me? I've seen your billboards.



- My name is Lai Di.



- Lady? Lai Di.

I'm married to Bao, the chef.

Picking up some things of his.

You married to the chef? Ma'am, may I just say, your husband's pork buns make me glad to be alive.

The man's a true artist.

Not anymore.

He's dead now but I'll hire you to find who k*lled him.

The facts were these: Lai Di and her husband, Bao, immigrated from Beijing with the hope of opening their own restaurant.

Bao quickly established himself as the premier authority on the delicate art of bun steaming.

He demanded privacy while he worked both to eliminate distractions and protect his unique recipes.

But even with his daughter working as a waitress Bao could never save enough money for his own restaurant.

It was after a 16

-hour shift that Lai Di had noticed Bao could not sleep.

Something had him terrified.

Bao chose to reply in English.



- Pressure.



- Pressure? Lai Di would remember Bao 's misgiving as ironic.

Police were satisfied Bao 's death had been an accident but Lai Di was convinced there had been foul play.

Okay, let's be delicate.

He may not speak English and with the pipe the way it is, I don't know if he'll speak at all.

You speak Chinese? Watch out.

Please don't hurt me! I'm sorry I lose the bet!

- Look, we're not gonna hurt you.



- What bet? Gambling at the dim sum.



- Now someone's going to k*ll me.



- Going to k*ll you? I don't know how, but they're going to do it for sure.



- Yeah, yeah.

Who wants to k*ll you?

- Who were you gambling with?

- I tell you that, and I'm a dead man.



- See, what we need now is a mirror.



- I got to get out of here! Oh, hey.

Bao, no, wait! Oh!

- Ouch.

As it appeared the bun steamer's buns were steamed over a bet at the dim sum Emerson Cod returned to the restaurant for a chat with Bao 's daughter.

MEl: I don't know why my mother hired you.

My father's death was an accident.

Your mother had a hunch.

I could gold

-leaf my bathroom with what I made off mother hunches and what I need to know is Are those the new chiu

-chao dumplings? May I? Pork dried shrimp, chives, mushrooms in glutinous rice flour.

Girl, your father could make a grown man cry.

Hi.

This is Rubbie Wu, my fiancé.

Also, manager of the dim sum.

Son, you got a hell of a restaurant.

I'm a lucky man in many ways.

Mr.

Cod, right? You work upstairs.

Cuttlefish, beef balls and taro dumplings every Sunday at noon.

I'm sorry about your loss, both in the human and gastronomical sense.

Speaking of your father, is it possible he was a degenerate gambler? I heard he was k*lled over a bet.

He didn't have time for anything but work.

At least, as far as I know.

My father and I weren't very close.

What about gambling in the restaurant with employees, or maybe customers? We're just a dim sum restaurant.

If Bao was in trouble because of gambling it didn't happen here.

Oh.

So it sounds like Mei didn't seem too broken up about dear old dead Dad.

Didn't waste many tears.

That said, I searched the entire restaurant.

There's no basement or secret card room or the like.

Maybe Bao meant something else.

Maybe Bao had a pipe through his head and we're chasing smoke.

Call you when I find a lead.



- What are you doing?

- I just have some Well, Dwight stopped by again.

Didn't say much.

Just that kind, warmhearted smile with the crinkly eyes that say: "Oh, I wish I could find my old friend, Ned's dad, before I die alone.

" Mm.

I know that face.

The "I'm waiting to hear why you won't help your father's friend" face.

No, you don't know my face as well as you think.

I keep my feelings about my father behind a door that's wallpapered over and you can't see the seams, and that's how I like it.

Dwight showing up is like a corner peeling.

And I see that peeling corner and I wanna rip it off.

You wouldn't if you knew what was underneath.

It's a colorful mix of anger, chronic distrust and misplaced guilt.

My mom's been lying to me for three decades.

We have a pile of stink to work out and I would if I could, but I can't.

But you can, and you should.



- What is that?

- It's my clue pad for writing down clues.

I love that you have a clue pad.

My father's address.

You can give it to Dwight.

That's as much as I can do.



- How long have you had this?

- A while.

By "a while," the Pie

-Maker meant 20 years, 11 months three weeks, five days and six hours since he had gotten word, whilst away at boarding school that his father had moved on and started a new family without him.

Can I help you? This is Hua Jaing.

He overheard Emerson at the restaurant.

He said that there's been illegal gambling at the dim sum since it opened in the days of Prohibition.

He says they'd pull the shades and play cards for money all night.

When your luck was running, you'd have a woman on each arm and all the milk you could drink.

Milk? Might not be right.

My Mandarin's rusty.

This went on until the police caught on and shut them down but he says they always found a way to keep the card game going.

I've already searched the whole restaurant.

There were gin joints in the '20s that used to have underground passages and secret panels.

You'd have to know the password like "Antwerp" or "fiddlesticks.

"

- What?

- I was expecting Emerson to say something snarky.

Emerson?

- Are we spying? I love spying.



- Shut it.

Hey, isn't that? Simone? That dog lady you dated? Is that why we're hiding?

- We didn't date.



- You wanted to.



- And then I didn't.



- Why you didn't? No kidding, she's gorgeous.

There are complicated issues that you need to know nothing about except that their complexities make this shallow conversation absurd.

Strange.



- You calling my romantic life strange?

- No.

It's strange none of the people are eating.

As they continued to observe the diners who were not dining several unusual details became apparent: All plates at the table were covered with a lid.

Before serving, the waitress would spin the food on a lazy Susan.

Each diner took five plates then placed a number of soybeans in the center of the table.

I'll see him.

While this behavior did not seem consistent with diners enjoying a dim sum dinner when the scene was reimagined in a different way, it began to make sense.

I do love winning.

Those folks are playing poker with food.

Faced with a table full of unsavory poker players Emerson Cod summoned a steely bravery acquired from years of PI work as he questioned what was, for him, the group 's most intimidating player: Simone.

Given the amount of cash you left with last night this wasn't your first time gambling at the dim sum.

Aggression is a sign of fear, Mr.

Cod.

Sometimes it's a sign of being aggressive.

Which I will be until I catch whoever k*lled Bao Ting.

Now tell me about dim sum

-style poker.

It's quite simple.

Give the password to the hostess which is hao shou yun, "fortune" in Mandarin.

Buy in at the table.

Each plate is a card and the meats are suits: Shrimp, pork, chicken, beef.

The appetizers represent numbers.

Other than that, it's five

-card draw.

Except you can eat the cards.

Which is what you do when the police arrive.

Did you know Bao Ting? His steamed buns blurred the line between eating and sex but we were not acquainted.

Any regulars seem like the type to push a pipe through your skull if you owed them money? Shrimpboy's the gangster in charge of the table and paying the manager.

Anson Chen did eight years in the pen for armed robbery.

Jin Quin is a thug for hire who'll do anything for a few dollars.

Louie Lu strangled his mother

-in

-law, got off on a technicality.

Jim is a plumber.

They all take gambling seriously and they're all dangerous.

Any of them could've done it.

What about you? Please.

I was at a dog show that night, which is 800 alibis.

Twelve hundred, if you include canines.

Are we fini? I've made a career training animals to overcome and subdue their instincts.

That said, without raw instinct life is nothing more than a series of empty tricks.

You pretending this is all business between us seems like an empty trick.

Something I learned the hard way? Whenever I'm with someone, the more I begin to feel

- Inadequate? Tongue

-tied?

- Never.

No.



- Aroused?

- Yeah, I'm just saying the more I'm into somebody the greater the odds that it's gonna end badly.

And based on that, how would we end? Extremely badly.

You hear what I just said? This was the first time the private investigator had ever been ordered to: Come.

As Emerson went against what he was sure was his better judgment Chuck and Olive did the same, by paying a visit to Ned's father.



- Pie delivery.



- Surprise random pie delivery.

Just a minute.



- This was a good idea.

Right? Sounded good when you described it.

Imagine if we'd dragged Ned here and found out his dad's a disaster.

Turns out he's older and crankier and drinks bottles of sour mash?

- Ned would have a Tr*mp l

-told

-you

-so.

Come in.

Hi.



- It'll take just a minute.

Great.

We're actually looking for an older Okay.

All right.

Voilà! Thank you.

It's not my fault.



- The false bottom keeps jamming.



- It works when I do it.

Oh, twins! Oh, I love twins.

I'm Ralston, this is Maurice.

We have a big show coming up.

We were looking for an older man that lives here.

He won a pie in a raffle.

We have a raffle, it's very exciting.

The only man was our dad.

He hasn't lived here for a while.



- Did you say "dad"?

- Yeah.

He hasn't lived here in a few years.

He kind of disappeared.

Our mom shacked up with someone else so we kept the house.

It was then that Chuck and Olive realized:

- You have the same eyebrows as him.

They do.

They do.

I said that twice, once for each of you.

You've seen twins before, right? She doesn't mean as each other A pause as they considered how the Pie

-Maker might react if he knew they had discovered his half brothers.



- Dad must be very handsome.



- Yeah.

Enjoy the pie.



- Thanks.



- Bye.



- So you put the bottom

- Get back in there.

You just Simone come and gone Emerson felt flushed with a postcoital sense of achievement and renewed powers of mental clarity.

He spotted something: Who are you, busboy in every picture? And looking more closely Meet me at the dim sum.

Three reasons I wanna speak to that busboy: One, he makes $5 an hour and he's wearing a $2300 Omega De Ville Prestige Quartz wristwatch.

Two, he's always hanging around that table.

And three, he's been watching us ever since we came in here.

Since we came here.



- Where were you?

- Gambling.

For you.

And I hit a jackpot.

But maybe not the kind you'd like.

What other kind is there? Busboy's making a run for it.

Let's go.

How could you go to my dad's without telling me?

- You didn't tell me you have brothers.



- Half brothers.

Two half brothers, which is like one whole one, and anyway they're family.

And your dad did the same thing to them.

And, Ned, they have your eyebrows and they do parlor magic.

So Maurice jumps into one trunk and Ralston jumps out of the other

- Maurice and Ralston?

- You didn't even know their names? I'm glad Dad got so fun and creative with naming after I left.

Goodbye, Ned.

Hello, Mercutio and Ribald.

Maurice and Ralston.

It's what happens in a second marriage.

People loosen up, drop their baggage and live a little.

I was the baggage.

Ah.

Busboy's not in the kitchen.



- Hey, wait a minute.



- Yeah, right.

Over there.

Ah

-ha! Ooh This is where Bao worked his magic.

It's terrible, but it's not your brothers' fault.

Not even half.

Why not try to get to know them? I know other people my father didn't abandon me for.

Uh

-oh.

Ohh.

Oh, no, too much pressure.

No, this isn't good.



- What is that?

- That is a newly repaired bun steamer.

Watch out!

- Who shrieked?

- I might have shrieked.

Sounded like it came from over there.

I think I found him.

It's the busboy.

Mm

-hm.

You think you ain't gonna tell us what you were up to.

But you are so wrong.

What the hell's that? I believe it's a 3

-foot length of copper pipe.

Wonder if that's excluded under special circumstances?

- What special circumstance?

- My life

-insurance policy.

That's what I do, investigate claims.

Perry Long, with Dawson and Stubbs.

Previously.

Judging by the man

-made crimp in the pipe I think we're looking at premeditated m*rder.

Nice.

That's a solid payout.

If you're an insurance investigator, what are you doing as a busboy? Working undercover, checking out a suspicious claim by a chef named Bao Ting.

We know Bao.

Bao took out a $200,000 life

-insurance policy one day before he d*ed.



- What are we, idiots?

- Beneficiary? His daughter.

Her name's Mei, she works at the restaurant.

Thanks, Perry.

You think he left me money? I'll believe it when I see it.

Two hundred grand is a lot of dough.

Maybe enough for somebody who felt ignored and neglected to cash in.

Will you excuse me? I have a table waiting.

Wait a minute.

Hold on a second.

Since I'm waiting on an order, you ought to let her do her job.



- Yes.

Good idea.



- Yeah.

Oh, yeah.

That is Shrimpboy.

He runs the poker table.



- He didn't like us talking to Mei.



- Maybe they're all in it together.



- Yeah.

Mr.

Cod? Food to go.

I didn't order this.

Although the handwriting was familiar to Emerson it turned out the author was a surprise.

You think I k*lled my father? Why would I send you the cookie the first time asking for help?

- Your mother sent me that cookie.



- No.

I sent the cookie knowing she was there that day collecting my dad's belongings.

I wanted her to run into you.

She was suspicious of how Dad d*ed.



- Why couldn't you hire me?

- Because Shrimpboy watches me.

I know all his secrets but Mom doesn't know anything, not even about the gambling.



- Lf he knew I was talking to you now

- What's he afraid you're gonna say? That I'll tell you about the bet my father lost.

Did you say "bet"? The facts were these: Chasing money for his own restaurant at the dim sum poker table Bao had gambled away his life savings.

He then begged the other gamblers to let him play on credit.

Shrimpboy agreed, on one condition: If Bao lost the next hand his daughter would be forced to marry Shrimpboy's socially handicapped cousin Rubbie manager of the dim sum.

Twenty minutes later, Mei was engaged.

Since Shrimpboy believed the terms of a bet should be followed to the letter he kept a close watch on Mei.

It's the wrong bet.

Bao gambled his daughter's hand in marriage but Mei's kept her end of the bargain.

There's no motive.

No way she's gonna stay in some arranged marriage.

She ain't going anywhere, not as long as she's under Shrimpboy's thumb.

We gotta prove Shrimpboy k*lled Bao.

We gotta question Shrimpboy.

But there are bodyguards involved.

Very big ones.



- Maybe Simone can help.



- Simone can't help.

I thought you talked to her.

Or did you more than talk? You did more than talk.

We decided to cool things off as a mutual agreement amicably reached by two highly mature adults.

Excuse me.

What's the matter with you? Um I owe you an apology.

Is this an apology for going to Ned's dad's house? And if so, can I please get in on it? Because I, too, am very sorry.

You went behind my back to look for a man who made my tender, formative years pure misery.

That said, I appreciate the apology.

We weren't gonna tell you if we didn't have good news.

Your brothers are friendly and very cute, not that you care about that but I thought it qualified as good news.

Especially the "brothers" part.

It was wrong to be sneaky.

I was trying not to be pushy and replacing "sneaky" with "pushy" was a big mistake.



- But

- But? But I know you.

You say you don't wanna feel connected but I don't believe that.



- I mean, everyone needs family.



- You're my family.



- And you, to a slightly lesser degree.



- Thanks, to a slightly lesser degree.

I've spent my life not having things in common with my father which is a good thing.

If I reach out to my brothers, it'll make my dad feel good wherever he is.

I don't want that.

If that seems petty and vindictive and small think of it as an homage to my father and the part of us that is the same.

As Chuck and Olive pondered the distance Ned put between himself and his past Emerson pondered ways of getting closer to Shrimpboy.

While tracking the potentially murderous gangster the PI came up against something far more frightening: Simone.

The mutual decision to let things cool off had not, in fact, been mutual.

But as he gazed up at the stars his thoughts turned to his favorite warm, puffy pastries and the delicious surprises hidden inside.

And then he got an idea.

Emerson 's plan involved a pot of green tea and Chinese herbs which Mei had supplied.

When ingested the herbs were known to cause an uncomfortable fullness of the bladder.

Little cousin wins again.

How about that, huh? Boss, I got an uncomfortable fullness of the bladder.

Yeah, me too.

I'm sorry, we're closing.

If I said we was here for the hao shou yun special? Same for me, darling.

That's right.

What's up, players? Which one of y'all be Shrimpboy? Depends.

Who's asking? Asking is Jimmy the Ace.

Ricky will vouch, we did time.

Where is Ricky, that lovable cutthroat? Never heard of him.

And this game is full.

Yeah, well that's too bad, because the sucker behind me got pockets so deep, he write a check and the bank bounce.

He's a grade

-A fish.

I thought I'd bring him in here so we could pick him clean.

Rubbie, why don't you and Louie sit this one out? Yes, Rubbie.

Have a seat, player.

It's a grand buy

-in, hope that's not a problem.

I always carry around some loose change.

You got the kung fu grip.

Are you the Shrimpboy who won himself a bride? I heard about that.

I thought, that fellow needs to get out more.

There's better ways to meet girls.

I was playing her dad.

The girl wasn't for me.

See, my cousin ain't too hot with the ladies, so I did him a favor.

Yeah, I bet her daddy was pretty angry when he lost that bet, huh? If he was, why'd he play the hand in the first place? See, around here, a bet's sacred.

Your word is all you got.

Bet's to you, new guy.

Three hundred to stay in.

Oh, is that all? You can raise.

No, I like to begin with an insignificant sum like this.

And then work my way up to the real money.

Yeah, speaking of real money if I was you, I'd have kept right on betting with that fool.

He sounds like an easy mark.

He came back.

Felt guilty about his daughter having to marry my cousin.

Wanted to win her freedom back.

So it wasn't about money this time? He was trying to help his daughter.

Except he had nothing to bet with, so I told him to get lost.



- Yo, you in or what?

- Oh, yeah, yeah.

All right, let's switch them.

Hey, somebody.

Open the door! Keep walking.

I love gongs.

Nothing wrong with that.

The bodyguards still indisposed the private investigators considered their latest clue: That the bet that had gotten Bao k*lled had not been with Shrimpboy after all but with someone else.

Bao wanted to win back Mei's freedom.

If Shrimpboy wouldn't play there's someone else Bao could have played.



- You mean Rubbie.



- Yeah.

Bao would've gone directly to her fiancé to try to win Mei back from him.



- Hey, time to put up or shut up.



- Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Let's do this.

Pork buns, shrimp dumplings.

Full house.

Beef potstickers, straight to the nine.

Bao had life insurance.

What if he gambled that? Mei's the beneficiary, but if Rubbie marries her, then he gets the money.

Rubbie wouldn't collect as long as Bao was alive.

At last, the truth was clear:

- Rubbie m*rder*d Bao.

Beef and sticky buns.

Empty, you bluff.

We better hurry up and finish, and then call the police.

What's with the whispering? Show the damn cards.

Oh, yeah.

Ten high.

Shrimp dumplings, four of a kind.

Winning hand.

I won? Yeah, I won.

Time to cash out.

Ow! Have to be so tight? I got bad circulation.

Keep them here until me and my fiancée are on the plane.

We're taking our honeymoon early.

Right, honey? Hey, Crabcake.

You help him, you're an accessory.

And I'm not talking Gucci handbag, I'm talking hard time in the pen.

The joint.

The hoosegow.

The forbidden city.

My cousin won a bet, and around here A bet is sacred.

What? I'm just repeating what he said.

The facts were these: Bao 's desperate plea for a chance to win his daughter's freedom was paired with an unfortunate lack of funds.

When Shrimpboy refused Rubbie suggested Bao simply wager the payout from a life

-insurance policy.

If Rubbie won the hand he would marry Mei and wait for Bao to die before claiming his reward.

Rubbie won the poker game with an amazing straight flush.

Bao had failed his daughter and was devastated.

Even more devastating was Bao 's next realization: That his future son

-in

-law demanded payment immediately.

Papa was risking his life for me.

I wouldn't even speak to him.

It's not your fault.

I thought I knew my father.

But I didn't know him at all.

It struck the Pie

-Maker he'd always believed his father's actions spoke for themselves.

But maybe he was wrong.

Speak of the devil.



- Simone?

- Nobody locked the door?

- I don't think this would be the best time.



- When would be? Certainly not earlier, when you dived into your car to hide.

No, you don't understand.

I require honesty, loyalty and respect.

Qualities you've done an extraordinary job of not showing.

Let's try a new set of rules.

From now on, you will not speak to me.



- But l

- Or call me.



- But l

- Or come within 20 feet.



- But l

- And stop calling me "but I.

" Lady? What's going on? We have a plane to catch.



- No.

No.

Bubblegum, stop begging.



- Do you have food in your pocket?

- No.



- You do, don't you?

- What are you talking about? I was waiting on you when you b*at Shrimpboy.

I bet you b*at him because you had the winning pork bun in your pocket.

You're a cheater.

Cheater, cheater, cheater.

Cheater.

You know he was cheating when he played Bao.

And around here, a bet is sacred.

Right? Out of my way.

While there were things Shrimpboy could forgive such as homicide, kidnapping and illegal poker he drew the line at cheating.

In part, it was the countless hands of poker he'd lost to Rubbie in the years since childhood now seen in a different light.

As Rubbie had cheated Bao Shrimpboy agreed the bet was nonbinding.

Mei and her friends were free to go and Mei's engagement was disengaged.

Sparkly.

Because Shrimpboy believed that all gains are meaningless unless we risk something real.

Rubbie risked something real and what he gained, as Olive predicted, was a visit to the hoosegow.

After the insurance company made a grudging payout to Mei she shared it with her mother, who shared it with Emerson payment for a job well done.

Still, Emerson was forced to acknowledge it had been a job not

-so

-well done where Simone was concerned.

Simone.

Simone.

Damn it, woman.

Whatever it is, say it quickly.

Look, you all about control.

Now, I'm not gonna deny that's a turn

-on.

But you never show your cards.

I figured if I went all in I'd be on the street with a tin cup and a borrowed blanket.

You with me? For about 10 more seconds.

And when you barged into the restaurant to tell me off well, that was a whole new Simone.



- That meant you were

- Hiding a shred of vulnerability? Hell, a shred's better than nothing.

All I'm saying is you show me your cards, I'll show you mine.

It struck Emerson that while some people are terrified of a gamble and others can 't say no to one the best approach lies somewhere in the middle.

I would ask what changed your mind

- Except?

- Except you haven't rung the doorbell which would prove that you have changed your mind.

All right, anything I say now is tempting fate.

It's easier to make assumptions about Dad and why he did what he did than admit I don't know.

I don't know my family, or what it would be like to know them.

And the finding

-out part makes me a little queasy.

Well, whatever happens, I'll be right here, okay? Thanks.

Come on, come on.

- Hello? Hi.

I'm Ned.

I thought I'd stop by because basically, we have the same dad.

As the brothers gazed at each other for the first time the Pie

-Maker sensed this gamble would pay off in ways he could never predict.

And from his vantage point across the street Dwight agreed.
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