The Gaze of Caprice (The Caprice Trilogy Book 1) (57 page)

              Marti had a
joie de vivre
that resonated in her speech and conversation.  It wasn’t the caffeine from the coffee or the excitement of meeting a new person with whom she could fall in love.  The vibe was always there.  She had struck the right deals at the right time.  As a consequence, she was genuinely happy in life.  Marti was seven years older than Xiaoyu but found his life story equally fascinating.  His life was the opposite; there in lied the fascination.  With Marti’s luck in life they would become lovers; with Xiaoyu’s they wouldn’t.  But they talked for hours with a deep-seated mutual interest.  For the rest of their lives they would remember such genuine conversation. Near the end of the French conversation both had realized it.  Xiaoyu wanted good things for Marti because it made her the joyous person she was.  Xiaoyu had only met burdened people.  He relished the novelty of a person who seemed unrestrained.  He imagined his mother was much like Marti when she was young—before Xiaofeng, before him.  Happiness could be liked, even if it couldn’t be had.  Marti wanted good things for Xiaoyu simply because he had never had them.  In fact, Xiaoyu had thought of himself as a devil when he was young enough to be foolish.  Talking to Marti made him feel a fool, knowing how much humanity was still in him.  Their conversation ended with over five cappuccinos and eight hours between them.  It ended out of necessity, not the notion that conversations had to end.  Marti would have taken the underground to get home but at eight minutes to 3:00am the underground was closed.  Marti decided on a taxi.  Xiaoyu split the fare.  Marti’s apartment was on Rue Ordener around the corner from Boulevard Barbès.  Goodbyes were exchanged and a mutual feeling languished over the night for both.  It was a first feeling for Xiaoyu, one of roofless optimism.  For the first time, he felt he might have a connection to the world.  Memories wouldn’t let him believe it.

• • •

             
Goulette à Goulette
was an interesting idea, a café that fought hard to open in a residential-zoned block of Paris.  The café won the fight but had to sacrifice serving food of any kind, outside prepackaged coffee biscuits to have with a good selection of beverages.  There were wines—red and white—and coffee had anyway or tea, all teas.  The food no doubt would have been spectacular but for the health codes that prevented its service.  But the café flourished, for a different kind of clientele, those who met for a business brunch but had already filled their bellies with breakfast.  A businessman staying at the best hotel in Paris couldn’t pass on the hotel’s breakfast, especially when it was already included.  But the same businessman wasn’t so serious about doing business during the breakfast hour.  By eleven o’clock he was already fed, but ready to negotiate.  A glass of wine or cup of coffee was all he needed.  Not even a croissant would make the mood better, so
Goulette à Goulette
was its own standard.  Parisians and tourist alike favored the atmosphere that was like coffee-to-go but most stayed anyway.  There were even tables in the back in the courtyard where residents of adjacent buildings parked their scooters and bikes.  The tables got sunshine around one o’clock.  Georgia and Xiaoyu sat in the courtyard at the back of the restaurant.  A new café for a new day, Georgia thought it bad taste to visit the same place in the same week.  The conversation was friendly, in that it avoided the topic of the prior evening.  It was awkward in that the two had to find all else to talk about, anxious as all hell.  Georgia noticed the three rings on Xiaoyu’s right hand.

              “What are those for?” asked Georgia.

              “They tell you what they’re for,” Xiaoyu turned the rings—slightly oversized for his fingers—each character facing forward.  He laid his hand down on the table for Georgia to see.

              “I’ll need a dictionary or a translation,” said Georgia.  Xiaoyu turned his head to the right.

              “They represent luck, health and longevity,” said Xiaoyu. 

              “Why?” asked Georgia.

              “I thought about it myself,” said Xiaoyu, “These are the three that you don’t want to run out.”

              “What about money?” said Georgia, “What about love?  Most people would add those.”

“You could but you would have a ring for each finger,” said Xiaoyu, “Your hand would be crowded. Bad
Feng Shui
.”

              “But you’d have everything you could want,” said Georgia.

              “Not necessarily,” said Xiaoyu, “Not really.”

              “Oh no,” said Georgia, “Why not?”

              “Why be in this world?” said Xiaoyu, “You’d have everything.  There would be no point in having time in this world.  There would be nothing to achieve with the time given to you.  You might as well leave this world and leave your gifts for others who don’t have them.”

              “Why do you say that?” said Georgia.

              “As long as these three hold, I can still fight,” said Xiaoyu, “And I’m left a bit more to fight for, if I’m lucky, healthy and have time.  I can make the money and find love.  The fight for it makes it count.”  Georgia would have leaned back but she was already comfortable with her back against her chair.  Instead, she sat up and dropped a half-smoked
Pall Mall
on the floor in favor of a fresh one.

              “That’s interesting,” she said before lighting her new cigarette, “Quite interesting.”  She looked to her right and exhaled smoke letting her cigarette hand drop along side the chair.  She stared off, a way of having a moment to herself while in company.  She didn’t take a drag.  She let precious smoke escape the fire of the cigarette without so much as a puff.  At regular intervals she flicked her cigarette letting the light breeze have the ash. 

“You’ve thought about those rings,” said Georgia.

              “Yes,” said Xiaoyu.

              “That means you didn’t buy them,” said Georgia.

              “I didn’t buy them,” said Xiaoyu.

              “They were from someone else, maybe family maybe not.  Am I right?” said Georgia.

              “Family, yes,” said Xiaoyu, “But not how you would understand.”

              “Oh, you’d be surprised what I’d understand,” said Georgia, “The person who gave you those rings is dead isn’t he?”

              “Yes, he is,” said Xiaoyu.

              “See,” said Georgia inhaling and tilting her head to exhale upward, having made her point.

              “Something else I’m interested in is our operation,” said Georgia.

              “Can you be more specific?” said Xiaoyu.  Georgia smiled.

              “What did we call it? 
Surprise
,” said Georgia, “Any surprise with
Surprise
.”

              “I didn’t follow through,” said Xiaoyu.

              “Ok,” said Georgia, “Explain.”

              “I adapted,” said Xiaoyu, “You said so yourself.  I can do it.  Why not do it?”  Georgia laughed an almost manly laugh.

              “Marti’s not that kind,” said Georgia, “But you did get her to close early.”  Xiaoyu looked surprised.

              “Only the rooms on the right side of the hall are soundproof,” said Georgia, “I retired to the room in the middle of the hall on the left.  Even slept there.  There’s two beds in there for a night’s stay for those who might require it.  See Ray, it’s the slow reveal.”

              “Ok,” said Xiaoyu.

              “I heard you and Marti come upstairs,” said Georgia, “I heard her go across the hall a few times to the cappuccino machine.  It didn’t sound like—well—you know.”

              “We talked,” said Xiaoyu, “We talked a lot.  And then we took a taxi.  To her place and I continued on to my place.”  Georgia laughed.  It started deep and rose high enough to sound feminine.  She almost dropped her cigarette as she bent forward.

              “I’m not…I’m not laughing at you,” said Georgia, “I’m not laughing at you.  That’s how you respond to the gap between men and women.  And I’m sorry.  It’s not that you have so much to learn.  You learned a lot in Hong Kong—a serious lot.  You always have to understand the motivations of the person sitting on the opposite side of the table.  That’s what men say.  But you have to always understand the impulses of the person sitting on the other side of the table.  And that’s what that was, an impulse.  When I first got assigned to fieldwork, my every job was like the one I gave you.  That was the ropes; that was work.  Satellites weren’t that big a part of the game, no computer systems to help your hunches.  There was so much instinct. 
And so much sex
.  It’s instinctive.  You had to get close to get anything at all.  And we all had such defenses back then.  We never even knew each other’s names.  It didn’t matter.  If they know your body they feel like they know you enough.  It’s the other things they tell you that count.  And you were always looking to get those other things.”  Georgia took a long drag from her cigarette, nostalgic. 

              “But you always make the call,” said Xiaoyu, “That’s instinct too, making a call.  Sex is not the only thing.  You follow the feeling or misrepresent it.  But you have to make a decision, the instinctive one or the other one.  I made the instinctive one.  That’s what I learned to do in Hong Kong.”

              “That’s impressive,” said Georgia.

              “What is?” asked Xiaoyu.

              “You’re so young but you know,” said Georgia.

              “Know?” said Xiaoyu.

              “We’re not all the same,” said Georgia, “We women.”  Xiaoyu flashed his eyes at Georgia.

              “You took time to realize Marti and I are not the same,” said Georgia exhaling, “Not the same woman.”

              “That didn’t require time,” said Xiaoyu.

              “Perhaps because you haven’t been around us so much,” said Georgia, “Just your sister as I understand it.”  Xiaoyu had nothing to say.  Georgia had it right; there wasn’t any qualification.

              “There are a lot of men who have been around what might be too many women,” said Georgia.

              “Define too many,” said Xiaoyu.

              “When they begin to lump us all together,” said Georgia, “When they know us to be all the same.  Then you’ve had too many.”

              “Too many,” said Xiaoyu, “I just hope for three things.”

              “Would I be surprised?” asked Georgia.  Xiaoyu showed the three fingers on his right hand with
Luck
,
Health
and
Longevity
.

              “Not a bad thing to look forward to in your position,” said Georgia.

              “Or yours,” said Xiaoyu.

              “You’re probably right,” said Georgia.

              “This time, I am right,” said Xiaoyu. 

“Mature boy,” said Georgia.

              “I’ll take that,” said Xiaoyu.  Georgia laughed.

              “From a geriatric?” said Georgia.

              “You move well for your age,” said Xiaoyu.

              “I would say so,” said Georgia laughing from self-flattery.

              “Remember what I told you yesterday?” asked Georgia.  Xiaoyu shook his head.

              “About training,” said Georgia.

              “I didn’t forget,” said Xiaoyu.

              “That’s good because we have more ground to cover,” said Georgia, “They have a role for you at
OG
.”  It took Xiaoyu a few seconds to understand the letter pairing
OG
—
Open Gate
.

              “Two months then you go,” said Georgia, “I have till then to get you where you need to be.  That means more scenarios.  That means more practice.  I would enjoy the next weeks in Paris, food especially.  Malaysia’s food is hit or miss.”  Xiaoyu flashed his eyes back at Georgia.

              “Life is hit or miss,” said Xiaoyu.

              “Agreed,” said Georgia, “Remember everything I said.”

              “About?” said Xiaoyu.

              “Not working with your fist but working with your fuss,” said Georgia, “You won’t need to throw a punch this time around if you put your back into it.”  Xiaoyu looked off around the courtyard at nothing in particular.

              “Adapt,” said Georgia, “But know your limits, kiddo.  It’s what’s kept me in one piece.”  Xiaoyu didn’t understand the word, kiddo.  It was absent from his subconscious or conscious memory.  It left him with a subtle reminder, there was more than he knew—always.  And he didn’t mind learning from Georgia.  Like Mason, he was keen enough to see the benefit in her experience.  Learning to seduce women by being seduced by one, wasn’t objectionable to a man of twenty-three years.  It was exciting for him and instinctive—Georgia was right.  There were no emotions for Xiaoyu only a newborn instinct.  There was nothing deep about it, only fundamental.  A man had to know a woman’s expectations of him.  Georgia was the best person to teach him the ins and outs.  She was conducting a prostitution camp.  Teaching him to sell sex for secrets as she had.  Like so many things Xiaoyu had to learn, he became good at it.