Growing up, I was told that revealing part of my body and, God forbid, showing cleavage was shameful. So even though I’d learned the Western ways in St. Mary’s Hall and seen nude paintings in magazines, I considered nude photos scandalous. If I had nude photos taken and Cheng or Sinmay got wind of it, they would skin me. My family’s reputation in the city, and my own, would be destroyed. I was not free like Emily, and my body could never be a form of art.
I opened my rosewood wardrobe to find something to wear. Inside were the one hundred silk dresses I had collected. Each was meticulously tailored and lovingly folded. They gleamed in colors of sea turquoise, metallic gold, peony red, milk white, and bamboo green, with various fasteners such as braided frogs, spiral knots, round medallion closures, classic buttons, and woven loops. Dresses were of utmost importance to me, like Mother’s jewelry, which I kept in drawers with the perfume bottles. They were the reminder of the life I used to have.
In one of the drawers, I had a hidden latch that stored five hundred American dollars. No one knew this, but I also hid cash in a drawer in my office. Always save money for a rainy day, Mother had said.
I picked out a turquoise silk robe from the wardrobe and put it on. Pulling aside the flaps of the silk tent over my four-poster bed, I climbed in. Tomorrow I would go see Ernest.
In my car, parked in a dark alley, Ernest said he had found a job in the Jazz Bar, which he greatly enjoyed, but trouble was brewing in the Settlement. The Japanese had taken control of the SMC and ordered the disbandment of the Sikh police. All the British were frightened.
I frowned. “This is disturbing. Did Yamazaki come to your bar?”
“He came to the hotel.”
Of course Yamazaki was still after him.
“Has he visited your club again, Aiyi? How’s your business?”
“Not good. But I’ll take care of it. You stay safe.”
Ernest had a smile on his face, his eyes the shade of blue that had become my favorite color, and his hand had healed completely, the stab wound a straight line in the center of his old scars. Just like that, I made up my mind.
Later I entered my office and closed the door. I took Mother’s photo and put her beside Buddha’s head. I knelt and prayed. Mother had said Buddha blessed the room wherever his statue rested, but kneeling in front of them, I asked not for their blessing, but their forgiveness. Then I picked up the phone near the calendar on the desk and dialed.
His impeccable British accent came through once I gave my name to his secretary. “Darling, I could hardly believe it’s you. Such a pleasure to hear your voice.”
“I promised to call you back, didn’t I?”
“Ah, I’m delighted. Would you like to have a tiffin or a supper at your leisure? Say, tomorrow?”
“A supper would be lovely.”
“Marvelous. Where would you like to meet?”
“How about in the Cathay Room?”
The next day, I arrived at the Cathay Room, embellished with a golden coffered ceiling and walls of intricate carvings, which many believed was the most luxurious restaurant in Shanghai.
Sassoon ordered a twelve-course meal. He chatted about his charity balls and fundraising parties, bemoaned the lack of beautiful-women attendees, and then boasted about a famous singer who shared his bed.
“What about the Japanese customers in your hotel? Have they bothered you?” I asked.
He dabbed his mouth with a black napkin and shook his head.
When the eighth dish, curry chicken, arrived on the table, I decided to talk about business. “I’ve been thinking about your proposal, Sir Sassoon. Your affection honors me so much. This is a dream for all girls in Shanghai, and you have made me the luckiest girl. I have no words for it.”
“A yes will be sufficient.”
I smiled. “I wonder, Sir Sassoon, if you would ever consider another type of partnership with me. A business partnership. I’ll sell you forty percent of the ownership of my club for one hundred thousand American dollars. It’s a fair price.”
He put down a bottle of chilled Bass pale ale and frowned.
I said, before he grew sour and unleashed a barrage of questions regarding my refusal of his proposal, “To express my gratitude for the partnership, I shall also be glad to consider a photo shoot, if you’re still interested.”
He picked up his ale, the frown loosening. “A photo shoot.”
“You’re still interested, aren’t you? This is to show my goodwill, and I shall ask for your goodwill, too, to pledge the photos will never appear in front of other people’s eyes.”