White Tiger (16 page)

‘It looks okay.’ Actually, it looked terrific, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. The tailored designer slacks and polo shirt fitted like no others I’d ever worn, and their muted shades of cream and tan suited me perfectly. ‘But you
ever
buy me underwear again and you are in
serious
trouble.’

‘You’ll be begging me to one day, sweetheart. I’ll bet you love that black lace.’

I shoved him when we reached the shoe cupboard.

He passed me a pair of designer loafers. ‘These too.’

‘I hate you,’ I whispered as I pulled them on. ‘Did you go through my wardrobe or something? How come you knew the right size for everything?’

‘I would never risk my sanity by entering the disaster area that you so casually refer to as a room,’ he said.

‘Whoa, big words,’ I said. ‘So how did you know my size?’

His voice softened and he looked away. ‘You’re about the same size as Michelle.’

‘Do your best to be rude to me when we’re down there,’ he said in the car. ‘Treat me like staff.’

‘Not a problem, you ugly bastard.’

He grinned at the road. ‘Not
that
rude.’

‘Damn.’

‘Emma.’ He became more serious. ‘I bought you the lingerie for a reason. Go out. Meet people. Don’t mooch about at home all the time. Get your friend to set you up. Find somebody to show it to.’

I didn’t say anything.

‘Find somebody, Emma. Don’t for a minute think that you have any sort of chance.’ ‘I don’t. Friends. That’s all.’ ‘Good.’

We went to Central, where all of the most famous designers had their shopfronts. We had a ball. Leo crossed his arms and glowered, playing the ugly bodyguard, and the girls in the shops fawned all over me.

Leo gave me surreptitious signals: thumbs up; thumbs down; the very slightest nod or shake of his head. When he finally agreed to a dress that he thought was suitable we had a ferociously whispered argument; the dress cost nearly a month’s salary. Eventually Leo called Mr Chen and asked him to pay for it.

Mr Chen agreed, but Leo had to promise to give the black shirts back.

We threw the stuff into the boot of the Mercedes. As Leo opened the door for me, I stretched up to kiss him on the cheek. ‘Thanks.’

He could have been blushing, but it was impossible to tell.

On the night of the concert I spent a lot of time in my room preparing after I returned from the
hair salon. I wanted to be sure that I looked good enough.

I studied myself in the mirror. I hardly recognised the Emma I saw. I was slim and toned from the martial arts training. The gold lamé dress fell to the floor in a slinky shimmer. I vowed to give Leo a hard time about stereotypes later; I would never have chosen such an extravagant dress for myself, but it was perfect. Surprisingly it didn’t look too bad on me, but the shoelace straps were going to drive me completely nuts all evening; they were slightly too long and were sure to fall off my shoulders constantly.

I pulled on the high-heeled gold sandals. I would never have chosen these either—they would be painfully uncomfortable—but they complemented the dress perfectly. Fortunately the training had improved my balance so I wasn’t at risk of breaking an ankle by falling off the heels.

I shook out my shoulders and turned. Definitely good enough to be seen on the arm of a god.

I grabbed the matching small gold purse, which was far too tiny to put anything useful in. As I went out the door of my room, I wondered how I would ever remove the thick caking of hairspray from my hair, which was all piled on top of my head.

Mr Chen, Leo and Simone were waiting for me in the living room. Mr Chen wore a black tuxedo, his hands in his trouser pockets, his broad shoulders accentuated by the cut of the suit.

When I entered the room they all fell completely silent.

I raised my arms. ‘What?’

Simone came to me, her little eyes shining. ‘You look really beautiful, Emma.’

I knelt and put my arm around her waist. ‘Thanks, sweetheart.’ I moved closer to whisper in her ear, ‘I
can’t kiss you, I’ll get lipstick all over you.’ She giggled.

I rose and grinned at Leo and Mr Chen, who were both still watching me. ‘Snap out of it, guys, we’d better move. This thing starts soon.’

I took Leo’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘Thanks for giving me the help.’

‘I think I did too good a job,’ he whispered back.

Mr Chen stood like a statue next to the front door. I went to him and waved my hand in front of his face. ‘Earth to god.’

Simone giggled behind me.

He smiled down at me and his eyes wrinkled up. ‘Let’s go.’

Mr Chen drove us to Wan Chai. I sat in the front and grumbled all the way down the hill.

‘This dress is far too tight,’ I said. ‘I can’t even do a low kick. How am I supposed to defend myself?’

‘You think we’ll be attacked?’ Mr Chen said without looking away from the road.

‘I just don’t like feeling so helpless.’

‘You’re with me. You’re safe.’

I sighed. ‘You’re right.’

He smiled slightly at the road. I pushed my feet further into the strappy high-heeled sandals. My feet would kill me later, I should never have let Leo talk me into anything so completely frivolous.

‘I look ridiculous.’

‘I think you look just fine.’

That compliment silenced me.

He parked the Mercedes under the Convention Centre, and we walked out to the edge of Hong Kong Harbour. The Convention Centre hovered above us like a creature about to take flight. Music floated from inside. The dark water hissed against the concrete breakwater.

A pair of elderly Chinese men in dirty grey shorts and singlets sat at the edge of the water. They talked loudly in Cantonese and smoked as they held their fishing lines.

‘I’d rather be with them,’ Mr Chen said.

‘Just your age.’

He smiled down at me, his eyes very dark. ‘You’re quite correct.’ He turned back to watch the water.

Hong Kong Harbour was always busy with traffic. Ferries lumbered past, and tugboats towed barges carrying stacked containers from the ships to the shore. The lights of Tsim Sha Tsui on the Kowloon side rippled on the water.

The clouds had come down low enough to brush the tops of the tallest buildings and glowed in the lights. I remembered that I hadn’t seen a star for a very long time. The breeze across the harbour was fresh, but it was not so cold that I needed a jacket over my stupid glittery dress.

Mr Chen held his elbow out. I took it. We went inside.

Everybody stood around drinking champagne and eating finger food, chatting and laughing artificially. A few Chinese paparazzi clustered around a pop star wearing a ridiculous designer outfit, shouting questions. A gorgeous young movie starlet floated in and they dropped him to race to her.

I wondered how Mr Chen tolerated it.

A camera appeared in front of us and I was dazzled by the flash.

‘Mr John Chen Wu, yes?’ the journalist with the photographer said. He appeared to be in his late teens, and was pimply and poorly dressed in a tired T-shirt and a pair of worn-out jeans.

‘That’s right,’ Mr Chen said smoothly.

The journalist moved closer to me. ‘And you are?’ ‘This is my friend, Miss Emma Donahoe,’ Mr Chen said.

‘How to spell?’

Mr Chen spelt my name for him and he noted it down.

‘Nancina Wong just came in,’ Mr Chen said, and they disappeared.

Mr Chen squeezed my arm. ‘Thanks.’ ‘What for?’

‘That was
Next
magazine.’

‘Oh.’ The news of his companion would be all over Hong Kong in no time flat. Some of the gossip magazines were so thick that the contents couldn’t be fitted into a single binding, and they were presented as two or even three thick magazines with a rubber band around them.

I swore under my breath as Kitty Kwok raced towards us, arms and grin wide. She was like a shark about to strike. Her smile was razor-sharp.

‘Dear Emma,’ she said, giving me a huge tight hug. She pulled back to beam at me. ‘What a
wonderful
dress. You look
fabulous. Such
a change, who would have thought our little mousy Emma would be here? Please come back to the kindergarten, dear, we really need you. We couldn’t find anybody qualified to do your job for a long time, and eventually we had to hire a Filipina.’

Mr Chen stiffened. I squeezed his arm. It was only an insult if you believed that Filipinas were good for maids and nothing else.

‘That’s wonderful,’ I said. ‘I’m sure there are plenty of competent women from the Philippines who could do a fabulous job.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t know about that, dear,’ Kitty said. ‘The only Filipinas
I
know are
maids
.’

She turned to Mr Chen, making sure that she had her back to me. ‘Dear John. Come with me and meet the gentlemen from the Mainland. Some of them are members of the Central Committee. They’d love to meet you. I was lucky to have them here; they’re very busy. Came all the way from Beijing.’ She held her arm out to him.

Mr Chen glanced at me. I nodded and took my arm from his. It would be a dreadful loss of face all around if he didn’t meet the politicians.

He smiled apologetically and took Kitty Kwok’s arm.

She grinned triumphantly over her shoulder. ‘Try to stay out of trouble,
dear
Emma. There are a lot of wealthy, important men here, and you look
so
gorgeous.’ Her smile gained an even more vicious edge. ‘Our John must have paid a
lot
for that marvellous dress. I
do
hope he gets his money’s worth.’

Mr Chen’s face darkened. I gave him another gentle shove on his arm and nodded.

Kitty didn’t notice. She dragged him away to a group of Mainland officials loudly discussing politics in the centre of the room. They were delighted to see him, grinning and shaking his hand. He was gracious to all of them; chatting and sharing jokes, making them laugh. They offered him a large balloon glass of expensive cognac but he refused, taking a glass of mineral water from a passing tray instead.

I sighed. Kitty’s reaction to seeing me was amusing; she was clearly threatened by me. I shook my head. She was the one who’d given Mr Chen my phone number in the first place. Didn’t she regret it now! I smiled with satisfaction.

I felt a presence next to me and turned. It was a well-dressed, good-looking Chinese man of about thirty. He leaned on the wall and watched the people in the room. ‘Tedious, isn’t it?’

‘It’s not too bad.’

He turned and held his hand out. ‘Simon Wong.’ I shook his hand. ‘Emma Donahoe.’ ‘You’re with John Chen?’ ‘Uh…yes.’

‘Good. We were all wondering who he’d hook up with after Michelle died. Half of Hong Kong’s eligible women are sharpening their knives and eyeing your back.’ He bent forward. ‘And it’s a very pretty back too. That dress shows it off well.’ He studied my back. ‘Lovely and white.’

I took a step back to lean against the wall. ‘I’m not really hooked up with him, I’m just a friend.’

‘I heard you were
staff.
’

I sighed. So it was out. Kitty Kwok was chatting with the patriarch of one of the Indian dynasties nearby. She saw me watching her, raised her glass and smiled spitefully.

‘I’m Simone’s nanny.’

‘Simone? His daughter?’

‘Yes. She’s four years old and an absolute treasure.’ ‘A treasure, I’m sure she is.’ He spoke more softly. ‘Has he been teaching you?’ ‘What?’ I turned to study him.

He smiled at me. ‘If he has been teaching you, then you are very lucky. You look like you’ve been learning.’ He turned back to watch the crowd. ‘Do you know who he really is?’

Something started to feel wrong. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Oh, okay.’ He shifted slightly closer to me. ‘You are very beautiful, you know. That dress is spectacular.’

I didn’t say anything.

‘I know a lot about him. I could tell you exactly what you want to know—about the Mountain, about the Celestial, about everything. How about we go for a
walk down by the Harbour and you can ask me anything you like? The lights are spectacular.’ He turned, put his hand on my arm and smiled into my eyes. ‘Come with me. I can show you some things that you wouldn’t believe.’

I brushed his hand off and moved slightly away. ‘I think I’ll just stay here for now, thank you. Don’t you have other people you need to talk to?’

‘No, I’ll just stay here too. So, tell me about yourself, Emma. You’re from Australia? Which part? I’ve never been there.’ Then he stiffened.

Mr Chen had seen us. He placed his mineral water on a passing tray and ambled towards us. He stopped in front of Wong with his hands clasped behind his back. ‘Is he bothering you, Emma?’

Wong held his hand out. ‘Hello, John. My name’s Simon Wong.’

Mr Chen eyed the hand as if it were toxic, then smiled grimly and reached to take it.

Wong snatched his hand back. ‘We can take you. You are weak.’

I moved slightly closer to Mr Chen. Thought so.

‘You didn’t even know I was here,’ Wong said.

‘Try me,’ Mr Chen said. ‘You will face the armies of the Four Winds and the Elite Guard of the Jade Emperor.’

‘Because you are too weak to fight us yourself,’ the demon hissed. ‘You cannot even protect your own woman and child.’

‘Be glad you are in a public place,’ Mr Chen said, his voice a menacing rumble. ‘Otherwise you would be in two pieces by now.’

‘There is a private place by the waterfront,’ the demon said. ‘The woman can be the prize.’

I opened my mouth to say something loudly, then closed it again and moved closer to Mr Chen, slightly behind him. I’d let the expert handle this.

‘You really think you can take me?’ Mr Chen said. ‘You are extremely stupid.’

‘I am the One Hundred and Twenty-Second son of the King.’

‘Still alive? How many of your brothers have tried to kill you?’

‘Fifty-seven,’ Wong said with pride. ‘I have destroyed them all.’

Mr Chen smiled slightly. ‘I could just sit back and let you destroy each other.’

‘That’s what you
are
doing,’ the demon said. ‘You are so weak. I will take your head to my father and be promoted to Number One.’