The Power Trip

anything. Singing lessons, dancing, piano, she had it all. I used to drive her to all the auditions. And look how it paid off. If she hadn’t married you, she could’ve been a big star.’

‘I bet,’ Taye said, wondering how to make a quick getaway before Elise continued her story of sacrifice. ‘Anyway, you know what, luv — Ashley’s a big star to me, so that’s all that matters, right?’

And with those words, he was out the door.

Chapter Twenty-One

I’m coming to Paris early, Xuan texted Flynn. Please book me a hotel.

No way, he texted back. You’ll stay with me. Send details of your arrival.

Which is how he found himself at the airport waiting for her flight to arrive.

He got there early, spent some time perusing the magazine stands, picked up a copy of Newsweek and settled back to wait.

Xuan’s plane was an hour late. She emerged from the gate with a purposeful stride, attracting attention wherever she went. She might be petite, but she was certainly a beauty with her almond-shaped eyes, full cherry lips, and sweep of straight black hair that fell way below her compact bottom.

Men paid attention, so did women.

Well, they would, wouldn’t they? Flynn thought, waving at her. Lesbian signals are surely wafting in the air.

Xuan headed towards him with just an oversized shoulder bag filled with everything she might need.

‘Any more luggage?’ Flynn asked, giving her a perfunctory kiss on the cheek.

‘Nope,’ Xuan replied, indicating her bag. ‘This is it.’

Flynn attempted to take it from her.

She shrugged him away with a caustic — ‘What? You think I can’t carry my own bag?’

He shook his head, amused. When it came to Xuan, nothing ever changed. She was fiercely independent. Whenever they’d been out chasing a story in war zones or other dangerous places, she’d always insisted on being treated like one of the boys.

So be it.

They took a cab back to his apartment. Flynn didn’t own a car; he was never in one city long enough to be bothered with the responsibility.

His apartment was a small one-bedroom. He’d already decided that Xuan could have the bed, and he’d bunk down on the couch.

When he told her, she laughed in his face. ‘No, Flynn. You can keep your bed, the couch suits me fine.’

‘Still as stubborn as ever.’

‘This is true,’ she answered with a slight smile.

Later they left the apartment and dined at a nearby bistro Flynn frequented when he was in town. Xuan drank red wine and regaled him with stories of her adventures in Vietnam. She told him about the children she’d visited and the women who’d had to put up with so many incredible hardships.

Flynn listened sympathetically. He understood. There was so much misery in the world, and it never saw the light of day unless someone dedicated — like Xuan or even himself — grabbed a platform to write about it.

‘Maybe you should write a book,’ Xuan announced, devouring a plate of spaghetti, the tomato sauce dribbling down her delicate pointed chin.

‘I wrote a book,’ Flynn reminded her, although he couldn’t remember if he’d ever mentioned it before.

Apparently not, for Xuan looked surprised. ‘What book?’ she asked.

‘Bullshit travel stories,’ he replied, slightly embarrassed. ‘When I was younger.’

‘I want to read it.’

‘Not your style.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘You wouldn’t like it.’

‘Why not?’

‘I wrote it when I was very young.’

‘Ah,’ Xuan said, her eyes shining bright. ‘And now you’re so ancient.’

Flynn laughed. ‘You’re the one who should write a book,’ he said, leaning across the table and dabbing the sauce from her chin with his napkin.

She stiffened, and snatched the napkin from him.

‘Okay, okay,’ he said, throwing up his hands. ‘I know you don’t like to be touched unless it’s sexual.’

‘You and I, we’re never going there,’ Xuan stated, as if it was a well-known fact.

‘You’re so right,’ he retorted.

The bistro-owner’s daughter, Mai, who was waitressing, approached their table. Mai was a pretty girl who could not understand why Flynn had never invited her out. Tonight she was not pleased to see him with a woman, for he usually dined alone.

‘Can I get you anything?’ Mai asked, shooting Xuan a dirty look.

‘More wine,’ Flynn said. ‘And maybe a look at the dessert menu.’

‘Oui, monsieur,’ Mai said, suddenly going all French and formal on him. ‘Tout de suite.’

Flynn caught her attitude. So did Xuan.

‘She likes you,’ Xuan said with a knowing smile as Mai walked away.

‘And I like her,’ Flynn responded. ‘What’s not to like?’

‘Ah yes,’ Xuan added. ‘Only you like her as simply another girl. She likes you to jump into bed with.’

‘No way,’ Flynn objected. ‘We’re friends.’

‘You’re so naive when it comes to women,’ Xuan said, shaking back her long hair.

‘Not naive, merely careful,’ Flynn replied. ‘Haven’t you heard the expression — don’t crap where you eat?’

‘You mean shit,’ Xuan said succinctly.

‘I’m being polite.’

Another knowing smile. ‘After all we’ve been through together you’re being polite? I’m one of the boys — remember?’

‘Sure,’ Flynn said, deftly switching subjects. ‘However, has it occurred to you that maybe she likes you?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Why? You’re not feeling the vibe?’ Flynn teased.

‘No,’ Xuan said with a casual shrug. ‘I am not.’

‘I told you,’ Flynn said, continuing to tease. ‘Feel free to take the bedroom whenever you want, it’s all yours.’

‘It seems to me that you’re very evasive when it comes to women,’ Xuan said.

‘How’s that?’ Flynn answered vaguely.

‘I’ve observed that wherever we are in the world, you might allow yourself one night with a woman, only never more than one night.’

‘And you’re so different?’ he retaliated.

‘I’m a loner, Flynn, I always have been.’

‘So am I.’

Mai returned and thrust menus at them.

As Flynn studied the menu, he realized it was the most personal conversation he’d ever had with Xuan, and