'Okay. How long are you going to need this stuff?'
'Seventy-two hours, if that.'
A pause. 'Is any of this going to come back to bite me on the ass?'
'Not if it goes well.'
He laughed. 'God, I feel so much better now.'
'Yeah, me too,' I said.
'Let me see what I can do. Call me tomorrow afternoon.'
'I'll post it on the bulletin board, too. Just to make sure you've got it all.'
'Good enough.'
I hung up and, out of habit, wiped down the phone.
I stopped by an Internet cafe and posted the shopping list on the bulletin board we used. After that, there was nothing to do except try to sleep.
I went back to the hotel and took a molten bath. It cooked the tension out of my muscles, and afterward, as I lay in bed, my body was almost rubbery with relaxation. But my mind refused to shut down. I kept picturing Koichiro's face, and remembering the way he had nuzzled closer when I held him. I stared at the ceiling for a long time, and at some point I realized that, like Tatsu, I was whispering Onegai shimasu, over and over. Please. Please.
15
Delilah woke from a nap in her room at the Mercer Hotel in SoHo Friday night. She hadn't slept at all on the flight over, but had dropped off instantly at the hotel after checking in and unpacking. It was early morning back in Paris now, and her body felt ready to go.
She opened the curtains and looked out onto what the hotel called a 'courtyard view.' Actually, the view wasn't bad. There really was a courtyard, pretty in the light of a gibbous moon, and she would rather face a quiet courtyard than a noisy street.
She liked the hotel. It was a little on the hip side – aspiring-actor doormen in black turtlenecks, a condom provided along with the cotton swabs in the bathroom, that kind of thing – but this was SoHo, after all, and it felt right.
She showered, blow-dried her hair, and put on just a little makeup – mascara, blush, a hint of liner for drama, that's all. Then a few drops of her favorite perfume – something she'd had made just for her at Guerlain and which happened to be what she wore for Rain. She knew he liked it, and that knowledge would feel good in the back of her mind.
She walked into the bedroom, laid out the clothes she was thinking about, and looked them over: dark, snug jeans, definitely. Her favorite boots, mahogany brown with high heels, definitely. Now the top. Hmm, there was the vintage silk Chanel jacket she had picked up at Les 3 Marches de Catherine B on the Rue Guisarde; that was certainly gorgeous. But… no, maybe the glass-beaded detailing would be a bit too fabulous for a jazz bar in SoHo. So… yes, better to go with the Santa Eulalia bolero. It was a lush, chocolate brown that looked great with her hair and would work with the jeans, too. Rain had just bought it for her in Passeig de Gràcia in Barcelona… that would also feel good tonight. And underneath… yes, the Sabbia Rosa dark brown silk camisole and matching bra and thong panties; they were sexy even just lying there on the bed. Okay.
She was more used to dressing for men than for women, but when she'd put it all on and checked herself in the mirror, she felt she'd gotten it just right. The look was sexy, but in a quiet way, like something she would do more to please herself than out of concern for anyone else.
She grabbed the Jekel shearling coat she had brought and took the elevator down to the lobby. Some of the hipsters chatting there eyed her as she passed, probably wondering whether she was one of the celebrities the hotel was known for. She was used to that kind of reaction and ordinarily it barely registered, but this time it felt good. She kept moving without returning any of the looks.
According to Midori's website, tonight was the last of four consecutive shows at a nearby bar called Zinc. So there was a little over an hour to kill before the second set. Just enough time for a bite to eat. Delilah found a place called The Cupping Room, on West Broadway and Broome, which had exactly the kind of quiet, low-key atmosphere she wanted. She ordered a salad and marinated baby lamb chops and a glass of the house red. She thought while she ate, but arrived at no conclusions.
When she was done, she walked the few blocks to Zinc. She looked around inside but the second set hadn't started yet and Midori must have been somewhere in back. She half-expected to see Rain. She didn't know when he was leaving for Tokyo. Well, if he showed up, the hell with it, he could just sort out the situation himself. She had as much right to be here as he did.
The place was mostly full, but there was an open seat at the front of the room, near the stage, and she took it. Her heart was beating moderately hard and she realized she was nervous. It almost made her laugh. She'd handled assignments where if she'd slipped, or if anyone had otherwise caught on to her, she would have been killed without question. But here she was, with the stakes trivial by comparison, and she had an amateur's shakes. It was ridiculous. She ordered another red wine.
She felt men at some of the tables watching her, and knew a few of them would be trying to get up their courage to approach. It was like that whenever she went out by herself. Invariably one man would come forward. If she liked him, which was rare, she would have a companion. If she didn't like him, she would send him off and after that the others would all be afraid to try.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone get up two tables down. The one with the short dark hair and stubble in the beat-up leather jacket, she predicted. She had noticed him on the way in, as she was scoping the room for any problems.
She was right. The man stood a respectful but not timorous distance from her table and said, 'Excuse me.'
Delilah looked at him and raised her eyebrows.
'You're probably waiting for someone,' he went on, with a smile, 'but if you're not, my friends and I would love to have you join us at our table. Are you a fan of Midori's?'
Actually, he was kind of cute. She liked the jacket and he had an appealing bad-boy smile. But not tonight.
'I'm just getting to know her,' Delilah said. 'And I am waiting for someone. But that was nice of you. Thanks.'
The man nodded. 'Well, if for some reason he loses his mind and doesn't show up, we're two tables down.'
Delilah said, 'Thank you.' This time the thanks was a dismissal. The man gave her another smile and left.
A moment later, Midori and two young men came out from the back. They were all wearing black, but on Midori, as opposed to some of the poseurs at the Mercer, it looked unpretentious. God, unpretentious was the least of it, alongside that black hair and white skin it looked fantastic. The words she has a child with him flashed across her mind, and she was surprised by the intensity of jealousy that accompanied the thought.
Midori sat at the piano; the men, at the bass guitar and drums. The lights went down and they started to play. Delilah didn't know jazz the way Rain did, but she recognized the piece they began with, Bill Evans's 'Detour Ahead.'
Sure, she thought. But for whom?
A waiter brought her the wine she had ordered. By the time she was halfway through it, some of her earlier jumpiness had started to smooth out. She realized why she was nervous: she wasn't pretending to be someone else. On assignment, she was always undercover. Cover, that was the perfect word. Something you could hide behind, something that would protect you. Something without which you would feel naked.
She'd come here with only a vague notion of what she wanted to do. Warn Midori off, scare her, say something or do something that would poison whatever was happening between her and Rain. But that was just crude reflex. Her ego wanted it so badly that it was blinding her to other possibilities.
Information, that was the thing. There was a lot she wanted to know. And she wasn't going to get it by being the hurt, angry, resentful woman she felt like. No. She would get it by putting all that aside tonight and being someone else. Someone Midori would feel comfortable with, even drawn to, someone she would talk to and open up with.