Why he was so… comfortable. Wherever he was, whoever he was with.
F
IFTY
-T
HREE
Charles Hu emerges from the darkness, a reassuring sight in pyjamas if ever I saw one.
He sits down opposite me, eyeing up the paraphernalia spread out in front of me with an intrigued look.
Still, he doesn’t say anything, except, I’m having trouble sleeping.
I pour whisky into the glass and offer it to him.
He takes a sip and he says, Your idea to ruin the movie star’s career – it’s been running through my head all night. The different possibilities, how it could all play out, how doing so would devastate him and, more importantly, his father – utterly.
He pats me on the shoulder and he says, I know I keep saying it, but I really think it’s fate that we ended up together. None of this would have been possible without you.
He says, For the first time in a long time, I feel like myself. And for that, he says, I thank you.
Under the glow of the pendant light, in the strange small hours of the night, Charles seems to have softened.
He reminds me of my dad, in the days before he got really bad, before he had to go to the hospital.
You’re welcome, I say.
I say, I should thank you, too. You and Akemi.
For what? he says.
I say, For helping me out when I was in a bad spot.
I say, For making me feel like I’m supposed to be here.
He passes me the glass.
The pleasure is all ours, he says. Truly.
F
IFTY
-F
OUR
A plinky-plonk version of ‘Looking with My Eyes’ plays on the speakers.
Zit Boy brings over a platter of eight doughnuts, places it on the table in front of me.
I look at the doughy blobs, glistening with sugar and fat under the white gleam of the strip light.
The thought of putting one in my mouth makes me feel kind of sick, and I think that maybe this time, me and Charles should have gone to a decent tea house.
But Charles, for some reason, he loves these doughnuts.
Speaking of Charles, where is he?
He is fifteen minutes late, and the man makes it a point to never be late, to never not follow the right etiquette for any given situation.
I get out my phone and call him, but it rings to answer machine.
I look out the window, I pick up a doughnut, and I munch.
I am back at the penthouse, on account of Charles still not showing up at Monsieur Donut after half an hour.
I check the living room.
I check the kitchen.
I check the roof terrace.
Nothing.
I check the bedrooms.
