After one more change of clothes, Paul found the perfect outfit. While Mia got dressed, he went to the counter to pay, then rejoined Ms. Bak at the entrance to the shop. Mia came out of the fitting room and watched them from a distance.
“My God, who does he think he is? A few fans waiting for him at the airport, and it’s gone straight to his head. You want to play superstar, my friend? I’ll give you a run for your money,”she muttered as she walked up to them.
“Back to the hotel?” he asked.
“A little ‘thank you’ wouldn’t hurt.”
“Thank you,” said Paul, stepping onto the escalator.
“Are you hoping to charm your translator with two dresses?” Mia asked.
“Not to mention a skirt, three sweaters, two pairs of pants, and two tops.”
“A miniature Eiffel Tower would have done the trick. At least that would have shown you didn’t forget about it until the last minute.”
They went back to their hotel room without exchanging another word. Paul lay down on the right side of the bed, hands behind his head.
“With your shoes on? Really!” Mia cried.
“They’re not even touching the duvet itself.”
“Take them off.”
“What time are they coming to get us?”
“Want to know? You can get up and check your junket schedule.”
“That’s a funny term. What am I, a movie star?”
“Can a lowly waitress not employ such an advanced term?”
“Whoa! Calm down. I’m the one who’s supposed to be nervous, not you.”
“Me, me, me—that’s all you’ve talked about since we got here! Go and be nervous by yourself. And you can accompany yourself to that dinner party too, while you’re at it. I haven’t got a single thing to wear, so I’ll have to decline.”
“Actually, I’d say you’ve got a hell of a selection. I bought those clothes for you. Did you really think I was hoping to seduce Kyong by showering her with gifts? That would just be . . . vulgar. Does that sound anything like me?”
No. It sounds like David . . .“Well, that’s very kind of you, but I couldn’t possibly accept. There’s no reason for me to—”
“Yes, there is, and you just admitted it yourself. You’re not going to wear the same clothes this whole trip, are you?”
“I’ll go and buy some tomorrow.”
“Mia, come on. Wasn’t buying the plane ticket crazy enough? I mean, look, you held my hand on the plane—my very clammy hand—and bailed me out on the car ride by reining in my chatterbox editor. If it weren’t for you, I’d be a total wreck right now, in the fetal position in a dreary suite in a dreary hotel in a foreign city on the other side of the world. There are no strings attached—hang those up on your side of the closet, pick something out to wear, but maybe keep the black dress for the embassy.”
“I’ll have to insist on paying you back. These must have cost a fortune.”
“It wasn’t me, it was Cristoneli—I squeezed an astronomical advance out of him before agreeing to take this trip.”
Mia took one of the bags into the bathroom. “I’ll let you put the rest away. Seems I have to get ready.”
When she came out, a half hour later, Paul thought she looked even more beautiful than she had back at the store, and still with barely any makeup on.
“So?” she asked.
Stunning.
“Not bad. It suits you.”
