James Swallow - Jade Dragon

Fixx shook his head. “I prefer to listen to the real thing.” He tickled the ginger cat and wandered away toward the door. “Stay well, cheri.”

“Watch your step, Joshua,” called Lucy. “This place, they do things differently here.”

“You know,” said Frankie, “I think every man in the room hates me.”

Juno smiled, watching as his face wrinkled a little as he spoke, watching the look in his eyes that reminded her of a playful child. “Oh really? Are you such a bad guy? Should I not be dancing with you?” She let him lead her around the room, orbiting the musicians on their dais.

He returned the smile. She liked it. He had an easy way about him that came through when he stopped being nervous. “No, it’s just that every one of them wishes they were me, and they’d love to see me trip or impale myself on some potted plant.”

Juno laughed. “If it makes you feel any better, every woman in the room hates me too.”

“Maybe. But that’s because you’re the most gorgeous person here, not because you’re dancing with me.”

She gave him a mischievous look. “Are you sure?” It was strange. She’d met him tonight and yet she felt like they had been friends for years, that she knew all about him. The moment she stepped from the elevator, she’d wanted to be with him.

He laughed back at her, and it made her feel good to share that. “Aren’t I supposed to be nattering you?”

Juno shrugged. “I hear it every day. It’s nice to be nice to someone else for a change.”

Frankie swallowed hard. “You, uh, you can do that any time you want.”

And she was smiling again. There was something about this man, something that hovered at the edge of her thoughts, ephemeral and ghostly. He drew her, and Juno couldn’t be sure why. She tried to probe the impulse but it fell away, down into dark places where she didn’t want to follow.

He saw the shadow pass across her face. “Are you all right?”

She shook her head. “A little tired. It’s been a busy few days.”

“I’ll say. I’m surprised to see you here, straight off the plane and up for a party. I thought you’d rest a while first, get over your jet lag.”

“There are pills for that,” she said with an airy wave. “And I wanted to celebrate coming home.” They swung past one of the windows and she took in the city beyond the tower with a sweep of her hand. “I love Hong Kong so much. I feel like I’m seeing it for the first time.”

Frankie followed her gaze. “Yeah. I… I know how you feel.”

“I’m just so glad to be back.” She felt it like an ache in her chest. “I don’t ever want to leave again.”

He frowned, and it spoiled his face. “I heard at your last concert… There were problems.”

“Would you mind if we didn’t talk about it?” she replied automatically. “I don’t want to dwell on… on dark things.” The gloom at the corners of her mind shifted and she blinked it away. Remnants of memory, faint and fading like afterimages, glistened in her thoughts. The droning murmur of the jetliner engines. A grey numbness. Water on her lips and face. Juno shuttered the pieces of recall, turning away from them. Back here. Back to Francis.

She let herself fall into his gaze. He had kind eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, the words catching in his throat.

“You’re not happy,” she said. “Tell me why.”

And he did; he spoke about Alan, about the way he’d been torn from the comfortable-but-mundane life he knew in America and spirited back to his homeland, about his fears and uncertainties. It spilled out of him in a rush, and Juno listened to it all. Frankie needed someone to confide in, and she found herself touched that he chose her. On an impulse, she leant in and stole a kiss from him.

“Wah,” he managed. “Uh. Thanks.”

“You seemed to need it.”

He smiled again. “You’re not what I expected. In Los Angeles, I dealt with people from the entertainment sector sometimes, stars. They were always so hostile, so anxious. But you… You’re alight. It’s like you’re radiating warmth.”

“There’s that flattery,” She blushed. “Those people? I feel sorry for them. They’re afraid-of losing, of falling out of favour, of wearing the wrong clothes. But not me. I have exactly what I want. I get to do what I love.” Of its own accord, her hand traced his cheek. “Make people happy.”

Frankie coloured. “It, ah, it’s working on me.”

“Juno, darling,” The music came to a gentle finale and Rope was there, nodding politely. “I hate to press you, but there are people here-”

“Oh, of course,” said Frankie, disengaging. “I, uh, I’m sorry if-”

Juno drifted away from him, and sent him a dazzling smile. “Don’t be. We’ll talk more later.”

Frankie watched her melt into the partygoers and blew out a breath. He licked his lips. His palms were sweaty and his pulse was racing. The moment Juno was gone from him he felt almost a physical need to have her close again. He shook off the sensation and snared a drink from a passing waiter. The tumbler of Glen Fujiyama went down in a single jolt.

“Quite something, isn’t she?” Mr Tze crossed his line of sight, four girls in unfocussed disarray following him in a loose gaggle. “It’s hard not to fall for a woman like that.”

“She’s a fantastic dancer,” he said lamely, bereft of anything better to say.

Tze laughed, a brusque bark of sound over the music of the string quartet. “Of course she is.” The executive gestured at the girls with him. “Francis, some of us are retiring to the private suites. Perhaps you’d like to join in?”

“Are you Mr Tze’s protege?” asked one of the women, the hint of a predatory smile on her doll-like face.

“He may well be, Nikita,” said Tze. “Francis has a shining path set out before him.”

Frankie gave a shallow bow. “Thank you, sir. I’m, uh, grateful for the opportunity.”

The girl, Nikita, extended a hand to him. “You’re coming, then?” The other women giggled.

His stomach knotted with disquiet. Tze’s women looked at him with calculating eyes. Frankie felt like he was beneath a microscope or pressed on to an auction block. “Perhaps later,” he mumbled. “I’d, ah, I’d like to enjoy the party some more.”

There was the very smallest flash of annoyance in Tze’s expression, but then it was gone so fast Frankie wondered if he had imagined it. “Of course. Later.”

Nikita tossed a last look at him as the group vanished into the depths of the atrium, to the chambers and rooms hidden in the shadows.

He watched the party diffuse, the people drifting away or coming together into small knots of murmured conversation. He spotted Juno’s manager but each time he crossed the atrium to find him, Rope was gone when he got there. The pillars of creamy green jade and the artfully strewn furniture made the chamber difficult to navigate.

As Frankie crossed and re-crossed the room he became aware of a shift in the mood around him. The melange of genteel conversation and light amusement had faded, and in its place was a shady ambience, a sense of secrets and harsher humour. Startled, he happened on a couple in one of the booths engaged in slow, mechanical sex while a dozen silent spectators watched. Both of the performers were blindfolded with silk ties that bore the YLHI corporate logo, and their hands were fixed to a seat frame in the same manner. The spectators were breathing in a chorus of rhythmic, gasping breaths. One of them offered Frankie a tray of blue capsules and he shook his head, backing away.

He stumbled into Alice and half-stuttered an apology. She eyed him. Somewhere along the way she’d lost her ornate jacket and the red silk blouse she wore was open, revealing a glimpse of breasts beneath.