We go west to the Music Garden and wander the paths through the landscaped plants. The sun is already hot but the garden retains some of the coolness from the night.
“What will you do when Fangli goes back home?” he asks as he balances on the edge of a grass-covered step. I reach out to grab him as he tilts back, but he only winks at me.
“Find a job, I guess.” I’m not enthusiastic.
“Not Eppy?”
A warm flush comes over me; he believes in it enough to think I can make it a business. “I’ll have to do that on the side. Need to pay the bills.”
He hands me a card. “Robin Banerjee.”
I gaze at it. “What?”
“Didn’t get a chance to talk to him the other night, so I asked around. Apparently he’s a nice guy.” He nods at the card. “That’s his personal cell.”
“You did this for me?” I take the card. There it is, black font on matte card stock. Robin Banerjee’s cell number. At the Chanel party, I’d been torn between wanting Sam to intercede and needing to do it myself. That’s faded. Help isn’t anything to be ashamed of and it doesn’t take away from my independence.
“I want one thing in return.”
“What?”
“You let me use Eppy right away. With Deng gone, I’m desperate to keep my life in order.”
I take my phone out and send him the hidden URL right then and there. Then I pause. “You got me this number and you have no idea if Eppy works or not.”
“I believe in you,” he says. “You haven’t failed at anything I’ve seen you try yet.”
When was the last time someone had this blind faith in me, even more than I have in myself? Combined with what Fangli said the other night, it makes my vision go a little blurry. “Thank you.”
“Except for faking laryngitis at the art gallery,” he adds. “That was bad.”
“Silence, you.”
The phone vibrates in his pocket again and this time he pulls it out with a muffled curse. “My mother again.”
“Answer it.”
He stares at the screen and doesn’t move.
“Sam, take the call.”
“For you.” With a sigh, he answers. “Wei?” There’s a long silence that stretches. I try to read Sam’s expression, but all he does is squint into the middle distance like an old-time pirate scoping out the horizon for land.
Then comes a burst of Mandarin and more silence. I walk over to the water’s edge to give him some privacy, because whatever the two of them are talking about is causing Sam so much tension his entire body is clenched tight. Sam, worldwide star, has mega-mother issues. I never would have thought his life was anything but charmed.
Instantly, I’m ashamed at how shallow I am. This is what Sam was telling me in the car, that I had trouble seeing beyond all the trappings of fame. No matter what, money will help smooth over whatever problems Sam and Fangli experience—that’s not even up for debate—but the more I see of them, the more they become people rather than characters. The more I care about them.
I glance back. Sam’s frowning at the sky as he listens and he doesn’t need me spying on him. When he looks over, I make a gesture that I hope will be correctly interpreted as Take your time; to give you space, I am going to go for a quick walk. At his nod, I head down toward the tall ship moored at the end of a pier about fifty meters away.
He’s waiting for me when I get back. “That was interesting,” he says, tossing his phone from one hand to another. He doesn’t use a cell-phone cover so I need to turn away because all I can picture is the screen shattered on the ground when it drops.
We walk along the water and I thump the palm of my hand on the thick pedestals that line the edge of the path, which apart from more runners in the distance, is empty at this early morning hour. “Were you honest with her?”
“I was.”
“Not a success?”
He kisses the top of my head and I do my best not to melt. “You can say that.”
“She won’t get off your back about joining your father’s company?”
“Lili only mentioned it once.” He pauses. “She has a new goal now.”
“What’s that?”
“She decided I’m going to marry Fangli.”
“What?” I twist around to see him laughing, but not in a happy, life is good way.
“She mentioned it before but I headed her off. Now she’s determined because she saw clips of us in Toronto and knows we’d be a successful match because of how we looked at each other. Except, in those clips, I was with you.”
“She didn’t see that I wasn’t Fangli?”
“I told you, you’re good. Also, the image she sent me as proof of this predestined love wasn’t a close-up.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’d better warn Fangli.” He takes out his phone and frowns. “Too late. Her father called her.”
“Your mom and her dad know each other?”
“Fangli’s father is very influential, which means Lili absolutely knows him.” His expression is less a smile than a line formed by his lips pulling tight.
I shrug. “Well, what if they do want you to get married? You’re thirty. They can’t make you.”
“I wouldn’t put it past them to announce it on our behalf,” he says grimly. “My mother would see it as helping the family business, given Fangli’s father’s role in government.”
“Does she live in the Victorian age?”
He raises his eyebrows. “You think these marriages don’t happen all the time?”
“I never had to think about it.”
“Lili does.” He looks at the sky. Clouds have swept in with a heavy wind. “We should head back. Looks like rain.”
He doesn’t move, though, and drops his gaze to the harbor in front of us. The boats bob on the water as they strain against their moorings.
“Hey, Sam?”
“What?”
I lean over so my shoulder grazes his arm. “It’s okay to not want all that.”
“I know.” He speaks quickly and gives a harsh laugh that almost hurts to hear.
“No, Sam.” I tug on his arm so he looks at me. “I mean it.”
“I owe her,” he says. “I’ve had an easy ride because of my parents. Their names, the connections. I’d be nowhere if it wasn’t for them.”
I can’t argue that because it’s definitely true being the treasured son of a film star will give you the most head start of head starts so I focus on the real matter. “You owe them love,” I say. “Not some outdated sense of filial loyalty where you abase yourself to their orders.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Probably not.” I shrug. “Tell me. Would it be so bad to be CEO?”
“I’d never escape her then.” The words spill out and Sam looks astonished. “Holy shit,” he says. “I’m a terrible son.”
“No.” I step around so I’m between him and the water. “You can want to live your life, Sam. Lu Lili has her own life. She doesn’t need yours as well.”
He rubs the side of his cheek and I hear the slight scrape of his stubble as he works his fingers nervously back and forth while his eyes move between my face and over my shoulder. Then his hand drops back to his side and he stops moving completely. “Okay.”
What a wonderfully fluid word that is, depending on the tone. Give it an emphasis at the end and you have joyful triumph (o-KAY!). Draw out the beginning for a nice dose of doubtful hesitation (ooo-kay?). Then there’s the way Sam says it now, hushed and vulnerable as if the O is a window through which he can see a road he never knew existed.
“Okay,” I say back. Used to ease this time.
“Okay.” Firm and decisive. End of conversation.
He gives the water a final look before he bends down and captures my mouth under his. This time he moves slowly enough for me to feel the shape of his lips against mine before he shifts the tempo and pulls me tight as the kiss deepens. His big hands slide from my shoulders until he holds both my hands in his and the kiss changes to soft flutters against my mouth.
It’s only him and me, standing by a wind-blown lake.
I can never tire of this.
***
“I can’t believe she called my father.” Fangli gives Sam a tired look across the table. The three of us assemble after Fangli and Sam get off from work. Fangli picks at the sashimi in front of her, her brows knit together.