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Page 4.

Hannah tied her towel around her waist, revealing a long, slender back that same fine color like art paper, wanting to be painted on or made love to. She actually seemed a tall, gangly surfer type, with strong arms and golden fuzz on the forearms. She had small breasts, cupped in an expensive silk merlot bikini top probably made by one of Wan's Paris couture houses. Or maybe his fashion division was in London, or New York City, or L.A., or all of the above. Men like Wan could afford anything they wanted, including dozens of BANs both male and female. He would share his prizes with anyone he happened to be partying with, the way a person might pass around a roach to toke, or a thousand-dollar bottle of rare wine to share once and throw away empty. Young people were just something pretty to be sucked on once or twice and disposed of like trash.

Mélu gathered a nice tray of snacks from the fridge, while Hannah washed her face and gathered her composure. "You are far from home," Mélu said cautiously, not wanting to hurt her feelings more.

"It's a long story," Hannah said as she combed her long hair and wound it back up into a tight, orderly bun. Her shoulders were too narrow to be a swimmer's, but they rippled with sparse muscles under that nougat-white skin that stayed real (like the most precious diamonds or sapphires) by its imperfections. These included a sprinkling of faint orange freckles, some tiny chocolate moles, and small, fading childhood scars. She also had a large, angry bruise on one shoulder blade—a storm cloud shape of black, dark green, roiling blue, and spreading mustard yellow.

"He must have hit you hard," Mélu said.

"I punched him in the face and ran," Hannah said with surprising courage. She held a small comb in her perfect teeth while binding her hair up. Her blue eyes looked defiant. "He fell over on his ass, but these guys are Triads, the Chinese version of Yakuza. A woman hits one, they take turns raping her and maybe kill her. I have to hide until they leave."

"Which will be?"

"In a day or so."

"You can stay here with me."

"That is so nice of you. I promise not to be a bother."

Mélu shrugged. "I have a couch. Help yourself to the food and drink. I need to keep working. I'm on contract."

"Where are you from?" Hannah asked as she pulled out a chair at the table in the small kitchen.

"Luxembourg. You can tell I have an accent?"

Hannah smiled. She looked really lovely. "I sort of noticed."

Mélu said, "Are you hungry?"

"A little. They are having a feast over there, the tattoo crowd—wine, song, women, and all the chow mein you can chopstick. They don't think about letting the BANs have any."

"Whew." Mélu exhaled hard. "Stay indoors. You can watch videos. I hope you don't get too bored."

Hannah shook her head. "I'm just glad to be safe."

"You're safe with me," Mélu said.

They stood facing each other.

"Thank you, thank you," Hannah said.

"My pleasure. Don't worry, I am not gay. My husband is just now in Europe on another job."

"I'm not either," Hannah said. "I wouldn't care if you were. I'll just sleep on the couch. But thank you, thank you." She wrapped her long arms around Mélu's strong brown shoulders and pulled her close.

They hugged in a brief, stiff little embrace, keeping apart except that they pressed their cheeks together in a warm gesture of comradely affection.

"I have to get back to work," Mélu said.

"Your name?"

"Mélusine."

"That's so pretty."

"I am named after a famous river mermaid."

"You're not."

"I am. Mélusina was a river nymph who married the founder of Luxembourg, Count Sigefroi of the Ardennes, in the 960s A.D. He had no idea she was anything but an ordinary woman. She was very beautiful and nice. She did not tell him she was actually a river maid, sort of a sea-maid or mer-maid like the Lorelei on the Rhine River, or the Sirens in the Odyssey. She had one request. On Saturday mornings she must be alone in her bath. He must never disturb her. But men being men, he got nosy and one day went tip-toeing down the hall of the castle—Lucilin Burhuc, Small Castle in ancient Mosel-Frankish. He peeked into the keyhole."

"Yes? And?"

Mélu smiled mysteriously. "They were both shocked. He was shocked because he was looking at his wife, who turned into a river nymph once a week, with her big fins and flosses hanging out of the tub. She was shocked that he would betray her so."

Hannah laughed. "Men always fuck up, don't they?"

"Oh, they do sometimes." Mélu thought of Romain, her husband back home in Belair. "But they are nice sometimes also."

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