“I could design something for you. I’m here till Wednesday. You could paint it this weekend, before school starts.”
“Koji’s a designer. He does work at all the casinos,” Paul explained.
“I’m pretty sure I couldn’t get permission to paint it by this weekend. It’s okay. The building really doesn’t matter. It was just upsetting to see it. I mean, who chooses beige paint for little kids?”
Paul wouldn’t drop it.
“Let’s do it anyway. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“I get fired?”
“Come on. For making it beautiful? I think the worst thing that could happen is that we have to paint it back.”
“Listen, I don’t even know who to ask.”
It went on like that for a while, with Coral’s protests getting weaker and weaker, and the guys getting more and more excited about doing it.
And that’s how P5 came to be the sunflower portable. The whole thing was covered in huge yellow blossoms that draped over the sides from the top, and down the rickety stairs, and across the door. It made one smile just to see it.
Three months later, she got a call from Koji.
“I don’t know if you remember me?”
“Remember you? Are you kidding? The sunflowers are incredible. I’d love for you to see it.”
“Oh, I’d like that. I’m going to be in Vegas in two weeks. That’s why I was calling.”
“Are you in Tokyo now?”
“Yes.”
“What time is it there?”
“About noon, Thursday.”
“It’s Wednesday night here.”
“I know. Is it a bad time? Are you eating?”
“Oh no, it’s fine.”
“Well, I’m going to be in Vegas, and I have tickets to this show. It’s a preview of Mystère. Have you heard of it?”
“Of course. I loved Cirque du Soleil last year. In the tent? It was amazing.”
“Yeah, that’s it. This is a Cirque show, but it will be permanent. Treasure Island built a theater for it.”
“I read about that.”
“So, umm, Mystère opens Christmas day, but there’s a private showing for special guests on the twenty-third. I have two tickets. I was wondering if you’d like to come.”
Coral felt flustered. She couldn’t remember very much about Koji, other than how wonderful his design for the portable had been, and she certainly hadn’t been thinking about him as a date.
He filled the silence. “It sounds like maybe the answer’s no. Sorry.”
“No.”
“Well, it was nice talking to you.”
“No. The answer’s not no. I just—I’m sorry, that was stupid of me. I’d love to go. It sounds wonderful.”
“Really? Well, great. I get into town the twenty-second. I’ll call you, and we can figure out the details?”
“That sounds good.”
“Thank you, Coral. It was nice talking to you.”
And just like that, he was off the phone. She hadn’t asked him why he was coming to Vegas, or more important, told him how the kids had reacted that first morning of school. One mother started to cry. Some children had jumped in the air, yelling “flowers!” The principal didn’t even get angry. She told Coral that the district wouldn’t maintain it, that Coral should have gotten permission to change school property, but she didn’t say anything about changing it back, she didn’t ask Coral to tell her who had painted it. Coral was taken aback. She’d been steeling herself for some sort of formal discipline, wondering whether the union would back her or not.
But the sunflowers were terrific. The kids were proud of P5. Coral watched them crossing the blacktop from the main building in their mandated rows and saw them grin as they approached the sunflower portable. Students were always suggesting ways to paint the rest of the school. Some fourth-grade girls had started a petition to have every portable painted as a different kind of flower, and Coral overheard children talking about the various ways they would paint the school or their classroom or their own homes. The portable became so popular that the kindergarten teachers started walking their kids out there for music class even though Coral had always gone to their classrooms instead.
At the end of December, Koji picked her up in his hotel limo, and they rode to the Strip a little bit awkwardly. Coral couldn’t quite remember what he looked like, and she had hesitated before choosing her highest heels. She wasn’t particularly tall, but would she tower over him? Would he care? The Strip was wildly crowded, and there were so many people jammed onto the sidewalk to watch the pirate show at Treasure Island that the driver dropped them off a block away, and Coral tottered on her heels as she and Koji wove between the cars and the tourists to get to the casino.
It turned out that Koji’s company had something to do with the huge drums that anchored Mystère’s musical score. He explained to her that the largest one had to be built on the stage and that there wasn’t a door big enough to remove it. The casino surprised Coral. Treasure Island really was all about pirates, and it looked more like Disneyland than Vegas, but it was fun. Everything about Vegas was fun right now. The whole city rocked with the energy of the casinos, bigger and better and wilder every year. A lot of money was being made, and people were popping between LA and Vegas like it was a morning commute; anything seemed possible.
Mystère had its own lobby, filled with locals for this performance. Coral saw Althea’s boss Ed near the bar with a woman who looked like she couldn’t be twenty-one. Some Cirque performers, wearing skin-tight suits in green and orange and black, catapulted off the stairs leading to the balcony seats, and there was a little scurry of movement when Kevin Costner walked in. Koji excused himself and came back with a glass of white wine for her. She had barely started it when the doors opened, and people rushed to see the theater.
Inside, the room was filled with giant, abstract shapes in dark blues and greens. Coral craned her neck, looking to see what was above and behind. Koji pointed out the largest drum, the ō-daiko, high above their heads. He said it weighed a thousand pounds. All around her, she could hear the chatter of other people pointing out one inventive detail after another. They had excellent seats, and Koji smiled at her pleasure.
“Americans are so brash. They have fun. I love it.”
“Well, I don’t know if Vegas is very typical of America.”
“I think it is. I think it feels quintessentially American.”
“When I lived in California, my friends didn’t like Vegas. Most of them said they’d never even come here—’cept maybe to see me.”
“I bet they’d like to see this.”
“Yeah. I mean, people visit from all over the world.”
Koji grinned. “Yes. We do.”