had provided. As Cassandra told an audience member his daughter would get the scholarship she’d applied for, I whispered into Cole’s ear, “Which one?”
He took my hand and pointed the light at a star-shaped glass plate loaded with escargots. He trained the light on one of them. It had been placed just at the tip of one of the points. “That’s it,” he murmured. “You can tell it’s the right one because there’s a little chip broken off the bottom of the tray just underneath.” I felt along the base of the star and, sure enough, my finger found the indentation.
On the other side of the curtain, Cassandra said, “I am growing tired. Perhaps just one more item from the audience?”
I heard scraping and shuffling. Then Cassandra said, with barely concealed regret, “Sergeant Preston?”
“What is it you want to know?” she asked stiffly as her hands worried over the watch.
“There’s a woman I’m interested in,” he said, giving her a slow wink. “Will I see her again?”
She hesitated, but couldn’t, even in this moment, bring herself to lie. You had to admire that kind of resolve. “Yes.”
“You are allowed two more questions,” said Vayl. I couldn’t see him, but I could feel him, standing on the opposite end of the stage. He and Cassandra had agreed audience members could ask three questions of her, hoping it would whet Lung’s appetite for a more in-depth reading for himself.
“Will I ever remarry?”
“I do not see that in your future.”
He looked surprised, then shrugged. “And your last question?” put in Vayl.
“Okay, uh, there’s no school tomorrow, so my boy and I are going fishing in the morning. Will we catch anything?”
Cassandra’s hands, holding tightly to the watch, jerked. Her voice, when she answered, wound so tight I could almost hear her vocal chords twang. “Nothing you want him to take off the hook.”
The whole audience held its breath. “Then I’ll definitely be taking him to the zoo,” said Preston. Everyone laughed, except him, Cassandra, and Vayl. Looking at Preston, I got the feeling he knew she was holding back the most important truths she could tell him.
Vayl stepped to the center of the stage. He held a gleaming black bowl in his hand. As planned, Bergman had piled the torn halves of our audience’s tickets inside. “Now it is time to announce tonight’s winner of a free private reading from Cassandra, preceded by a belly dance from the fabulous Lucille and accompanied by free refreshments. This will take place as soon as the tent has cleared. We are drawing by ticket number, so please look to your ticket stubs now.”
He jumbled the papers as he said, “And the winner is . . . 103.” He looked around the room. “Just bring your stub to me, if you would—”
Lung’s male companion, who held their ticket stubs, began to whisper in his ear as he bounced in his seat. He looked as excited as an old fart who’s just gotten a BINGO. When Lung nodded he jumped up and handed Vayl the ticket, which he pretended to study.
“This is the one!” said Vayl. He held his hands out to the audience. “Please give our lucky winner and all of our performers tonight a round of applause.” The audience obeyed. As they shuffled out, Vayl said, “Thank you for your attendance and please drive home safely!”
I kept my eyes on Lung, who was getting it from both sides. His lady friend hissed in one ear, making fierce gestures that said she was not pleased with this turn of events. The new vamp chattered into the other, encouraging him to stay, relax, have fun.
Lung listened to them both, but his eyes followed the Xias as they exited the tent, lingering hungrily on Lai as he snoozed on Dad’s shoulder.
Finally Lung focused on Vayl. “I am indeed fortunate,” he said in a perfect British accent. “Would you mind if I stand, however? I find these benches somewhat taxing.”
“Certainly. If you would just wait here, I shall escort Cassandra backstage to rest and Lucille will arrive to entertain you momentarily.”
Gulp. I clutched at the curtain, as if only it could support me under a sudden spurt of nausea. Now I’d only be dancing for three, but the very intimacy of such a setting made me want to zip into an ankle-length parka. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
“Ready?” I asked brightly, as if we were about to trot off to the church picnic alongside Tom Sawyer and Becky Thatcher.
Vayl nodded, releasing Cassandra and offering me his arm. We cruised back onstage. Lung now crouched on the bench, as we’d seen him do on the yacht. His companions continued to flank him. Vayl led me down the stage steps to meet them.
“May I introduce Miss Lucille Robinson?” Vayl asked.
Lung bowed his head. “You are grace and beauty personified. My name is Chien-Lung,” he said. Nice words, yeah. But the eyes
The girl in me wanted to slap Lung across his face and yell, “Get your eyes off my sticky buns, ya creep!” No, I don’t usually mind. I get that straight guys are going to look at boobs and butts. But generally they’re uberdiscreet, and I appreciate that. This guy—
