Thankfully, the cab ride isn’t too painful, and I’m out in front of Temple with thirty seconds to spare. I open the lavish door and am immediately greeted by three servers. “Hello, Mr. O’Shea. May we take your coat?” This would be comical if my job and pride wasn’t on the line.
“No, I’m good. Thanks.”
All three bow, before silently hinting I’m to follow as they scurry through the very impressive, traditional looking Chinese restaurant. This place reeks of money, but it has a gentler note with feng shui looking items like marbled yin yangs, bamboo water features, and gold statues of buddhas I’ve seen Mary admire, sprinkled around the place.
I could use some feng shui mojo right now, because when I see Mr. Yeong sitting in what looks like a golden alcove, I know he means business. This ma
