BACK IN NY: DINNER WITH HER FRIENDS
Everything was still unresolved the next day. Jada put off making a decision about what to do about the fact that her boyfriend’s party was busted up by a group of armed men and then the police. Plus the fact that Ayano somehow had the resources to find her at a random location in a city of over 200,000 people. Had they come to some agreement about that? He promised he’d tell her more. She had no idea if he was going to stick to his promise. And besides, didn’t she have some policy on organized crime and romance? She didn’t recall.
She didn’t decide that weekend, or during the next week. They went to another resort town the following weekend, but she couldn’t seem to find the time to reflect on this. Before she knew it, August was almost over and it was time to go back to New York City to prepare for Fashion Week. By default, Jada’s position on the issue was neutral, or that it was not objectionable enough that she would leave Ayano.
Jada and Ayano returned to New York City a few days into September. On the flight, she had decided that Romania’s crime problem wouldn’t be an issue for them in New York City and they should just proceed as normal. Many of the arrangements at the Versailles Gallery had been taken care of in preparation for the flood of the global elite during Fashion Week by her employees. She had been providing some guidance from overseas via phone and email. There were still a lot of man-hours to put in before everything was ready, though.
Outside of work, neither Jada nor Ayano had anything to do that the other didn’t mind attending. They quickly adapted their schedules to remain inseparable. Jada’s friends were dying to meet him at this point, so she set up a dinner for everyone.
The day of the dinner, Ayano stopped by Jada’s gallery after he finished a few meetings at his company. Jada introduced him to a few employees, but she kept a professional distance from the people who worked for her. She trusted and valued them, but she really couldn’t have them sniffing around her personal life too much.
For the dinner, she decided to take him to an out-of-the-way but very popular Peruvian-Chinese-African fusion restaurant. Raquel was the head chef, her oldest friend, and her capoeira mentor. They stopped at Jada’s apartment before heading out for the restaurant.
“What time did you say we were meeting them?” Ayano asked, sitting in Jada’s living room flipping through a magazine.
“8:00, why?” she answered, calling over from in front of her closet. She was still wearing a towel.
“It’s almost 7:30, shouldn’t we be leaving now?” he asked sensibly.
“I’m almost ready, it’s fine. They don’t care if we’re late," she replied, completely unconcerned. In South America-- and many other cultures-- being on time was not a virtue. It was expected that people show up much later than the designated time. It was a hard habit to break. After another ten minutes, Ayano came in the bedroom to hover. She had chosen a red, satiny babydoll dress.
“Should I call a cab?” he asked. He frequently reminded her that this wasn’t South America. He was getting sick of saying it.
“I haven’t done my makeup," she protested.
“You can do it in the car. C’mon, I hate being late," he said, picking up the cordless phone on her dresser. “Yes, I’d like the number for the Checker Cab company... You can connect me," he said on the phone.
“Fine, but really, they don’t care," she insisted, grabbing a larger purse to include her makeup bag. They headed out to the restaurant shortly later.
The chef, Raquel, greeted Jada and the rest of the table when the front of the house told her she had arrived. She had been Jada’s first capoeira mentor way back in high school. Raquel was slightly shorter than Jada with cocoa-brown skin and honey-colored highlights in her curls that surrounded her face like a halo. She could make people feel very welcome or very disliked with the slightest adjustment to her expression.
Jada had invited Raquel’s husband, Tavi, a forty-five-year-old college professor at a decent school so that Ayano wouldn’t be the oldest person at the table. Tavi was short for “Octavio,” he was also black and Brazilian. He was slim and shaved his head every day. He told everyone it was a preference, but Jada strongly suspected he had been balding. His heavily lidded eyes made him look tired, which may have come from explaining basic concepts to students all day.
Jada was kind of aware that she had chosen people that were sure not to upset Ayano in any way. She wouldn’t want a friend like, say, Evandro to be invited if Ayano was going to react jealously. There was a fine line between planning the ideal guest list for dinner and tiptoeing around someone else’s issues.
Sam was a friend of hers from art school, probably the least alpha male and most emo guy she knew. He was skinny, pierced, and forlorn. Grace was her roommate from art school, known for her avant-garde clothing designs and not known for the fact that she grew up in Ohio. She was adopted from Korea and had a wild, gutsy attitude that was off-putting to some people but Jada loved it.
Her friend Natalie was a cello player in her late twenties who had just joined the capoeira group last year and had slowly integrated into Jada’s life. She was a sensitive, petite woman whose hair was currently dyed orangish-red. Their friend Hernando was a local journalist who she got to know through the gallery. He was originally from Spain, low-key, gay, and in his mid-thirties. He was also short, worked out a lot, and charming to the point that Jada could forgive the fact that he wore sunglasses indoors sometimes.
Jada was so pleased with how the evening was going so far. Raquel sent over lots of free drinks and appetizers. Ayano had never had a pisco sour before, joking that he was from “The Old World," Seated by Tavi and Hernando, he covered a range of topics, from Răz-nevă, to Romanian independence, and the role of the press in free society. At large, the table was aboil with talk of literature, film, and travel.
After a couple of drinks, Ayano went outside to smoke a cigarette with Hernando and Tavi. Natalie and Grace were quick to interrogate her.
“Jade, he’s gorgeous. I can barely make eye contact with him, my god!” Natalie said in a hushed voice.
“So, how old is he, exactly?” Sam asked perceptively.
“He’s thirty-eight," she said, with some reluctance.
“Okay, they’re going to be back soon, so I’ll just say it: he’s too old for you," Grace informed her.
“I mean, if you want a real relationship with him. Is that where this is going?” Natalie inquired.
“It’s a power thing. Older men are always in charge," Grace determined.
“Hey, I date younger women. Women mature faster than men do and we just can’t keep up. We have to have a few years on you to break even," Sam explained.
“Yeah, but fourteen of them?” Grace said cynically.
“Guys, I don’t know! I just know that something happens to me when I’m around him and it’s exciting. He has his own life, a good job, lots of friends, and he’s crazy about me!” Jada gushed. Grace and Natalie gave each other a look but it appeared whatever they were thinking couldn’t be said in front of Sam.
“Well, I like him better than that guitarist, the one who didn’t own a TV and wore a fedora," Sam reminded her.
“Or that guy with the gold necklace and all the credit cards," Natalie rolled her eyes.
“Ayano’s not married, is he?” Grace asked her.
“Oh, I forgot about Married Guy," Sam said, finishing the last of his beer.
“No, he’s widowed," Jada told them quickly. She saw Tavi, Hernando, and Ayano returning to the table from outside. They ordered more drinks. The table was quiet as they all tried to figure out how to transition the conversation.
“What have they said about me while we were gone, do you think?” Ayano asked Tavi and Hernando. He gave Jada a sly look.
“Well, Natalie probably asked a lot of questions, being nosy. And protective, and protective!!” Tavi laughed as Natalie slapped his arm playfully.
“And Grace was probably like ‘An older man! Bla, bla, bla patriarchy!’” Hernando joined in. The others laughed, too. Grace gave him a middle finger but didn't look too mad.
“What about Sam?” Ayano asked, taking another drink from the waitress and clearly enjoying himself.
“Sam said he likes younger women, too!” Jada ribbed. Ayano and the rest of the table joined together in laughter. Ayano reached across the table to high-five Sam in a show of camaraderie. Sam looked embarrassed, but relieved to have a common thread between him and Ayano.
As the evening went on, the combination of Ayano’s novelty and charm along with the copious amount of alcohol being served was allowing everyone to feel quite comfortable. Since they were friends of Raquel, they were allowed to stay after the restaurant had closed and the staff were all hanging out. All evening, Jada was watching her boyfriend, forgiving and forgetting any wrongs from the past. She was sitting on Ayano’s lap when Grace took a picture of them looking beautiful and happy on her yellow Kodak disposable camera.
FASHION WEEK
There were only three more days to finish preparing for the influx of visitors to the Versailles gallery. Ayano’s schedule was comparatively lax. Still, he asked her to come to a business dinner with him and some important clients. Jada knew it would be difficult for her, since she still had so much to do at work, but she said yes anyway. It hadn’t really occurred to her that she could say no.
Ayano stopped by her apartment early. Although she wasn’t expecting him, she told the doorman to send him up.
“Your South American take on punctuality is adorable, but these people are from Japan. You know how they are about being on time. I’m here to encourage you," he told her. “Carlo will be back with the car in an hour,"
“Yes, yes, I know, I’m really bad at being on time, I’m sorry!” she said, embracing him dearly. “I love your suit,"
“Thank you. But enough about me, let’s get you dressed. That doesn’t seem right, does it? Coming by to get my girlfriend into her clothes. Tragic, really,"
“I don’t feel sorry for you at all," she replied, turning to walk into her bedroom closet. “It’s a great problem to have,"
“True…” he commented, watching her change out of her work clothes. “I’m having another great problem right now,"
“I thought you were here to get me to the dinner on time," she grinned, taking a few dresses out of the closet.
“I am. This is a lot harder than I thought,"
“Okay, here. Look at…” she pulled a large binder off the bookshelf. “...my portfolio. I used to paint a lot. I have to do my hair and makeup. Shoo," He took the binder with an eyebrow raised.
“Shoo? I don’t think anyone’s ever shooed me before,"
“Get out of here before you get me into bed," she insisted. She pushed him out into the living room to peruse her portfolio while she got ready. After half an hour, Ayano stood in the doorway to her bedroom.
“These clients are Japanese. You do speak Japanese, don't you?” he asked, although Jada suspected he already knew the answer from the background check.
“Some. I was really good when I was a kid. But, it’s like a muscle. If you don’t use it, it gets soft," she said, now opening her mouth as she carefully put mascara on her lashes. "Don't worry, I used it for business with my uncle and I was delightful."
“Did you go there a lot growing up?”
“Yeah. My dad left Brazil when I was eight. Then I could take a plane to Japan by myself," she said, putting on her earrings in front of the mirror.
“Long fucking flight," he commented.
“No kidding. I was bored out of my mind,"
“You were determined. Still are. I like that about you," he mused.
“I’ll remember you said that," she said, a smile on her lips.
“You should paint more. You have a talent for it," he said, pacing in front of her bedroom doorway.
“No time. The gallery is nuts, especially now,"
“Then, I promise I won’t keep you out too late," he said, resuming his perpetually-late- Brazilian-girlfriend vigil. When she was ready, it was worth the wait. She had flat-ironed her long black hair and parted it in the center. Her artful use of eyeliner emphasized the beautiful almond shape to her eyes. The top she picked out had kimono sleeves, but was fitted around her bust and waist. With the demure black skirt and kitten heels, she still looked like an art gallery owner. But, to Ayano, it looked like he had a whole new girlfriend. "Damn, baby. I just can't keep my hands off you sometimes. You're so cute in this…" he told her, groping her lasciviously and kissing her.
"Ayano, we've definitely got to go," she told him, glancing at her watch. He shifted his jaw and she could see the gears in his head working on a plan for later.
JAPANESE DINNER
Ayano and Jada were seated next to each other at the business dinner with two of his business associates and four Japanese associates at an incredibly sophisticated New York sushi restaurant that required reservations months in advance. The bill came in the mail, not at the end of the meal, to avoid unseemly discussions of money and price. Jada didn’t love Japan during her childhood, but she had spent a few summers there and spoke enough Japanese to get by and please her father. Her father let her meet some business associates from time to time and her uncle had introduced her to legitimate and criminal acquaintances, so she already knew the etiquette and customs.
They were seated in a private room with shoji sliding doors, tatami mat flooring, and a traditional low table. Jada kneeled to sit. She noticed Ayano was working his charm and also performed the traditional "proper sitting," But luckily, after the first round of drinks, they were invited to make themselves comfortable. Ayano sat cross-legged but Jada remained in the formal posture. The first half hour, no one discussed anything about business. It was all smiles and complimenting each other profusely. The conversation was mostly in English, with Jada drizzling in a few anecdotes and familiar sayings in Japanese.
The Japanese men were heavy drinkers. They kept pouring sake and Jada and Ayano didn’t want to be rude and refuse. Jada was drinking yet another small cup of sake when she felt Ayano’s hand on her thigh. Her skirt was resting just above her knee and he was working his fingers further and further up her thigh. When he moved to her inner thigh, she slapped his hand away, her interactions at the table betraying no unusual emotion.
For the next ten minutes, it was more of the incredibly polite conversation they had been having, but then Ayano tried going up her skirt again. Jada was really upset by this. It wasn't fair. This was not the time or the place. She squirmed away from him as best she could without indicating anything was wrong. She felt him squeeze her thigh, insisting that he was going to get what he wanted. He also kept a stoic expression.
