| In The Available Light |
| Chapter Two Girl before the mirror appraises her disguise Child become a mother, Tries to fix her eyes No more of his excuses, It has to be today She can keep her fantasy, If she can get away Paint her name on a one-way street Painted cheeks with angry heat Wounded pride on painted eyes Paint the night with battle cries All puffed up with vanity We see what we want to see To the beautiful and the wise The mirror always lies Boy before the mirror Checks his camouflage Polishes his armor, And the charger in the garage No more lame excuses, It has to be tonight He can take the princess, If he can take the fight Pound the drums with martial beat Pound the streets with marching feet Wounded pride, distorted eyes Paint the night with battle cries All puffed up with vanity We see what we want to see To the powerful and the wise The mirror always lies Boys and girls together, Mistake conceit for pride Ambition for illusion, Dreams for self-delusion Girls and boys together, See what it is we lack Boys and girls together, Let's paint the mirror black Paint it black �Rush War Paint (Peart/Lee/Lifeson) She sighed as she stared out of the car�s window and toyed with the hem of her dress. She had dressed to the nines for this evening. Tomorrow was the big kick off of the Fashion Season. Tonight, the Pendleton Agency hosted its annual party to introduce its new hot models to the press. Not that she really cared � she considered herself a serious journalist, and the job with the fashion magazine was only until she could break into a real publication like Mainichi or Nikkon. Even Japan Times would be good. After all, her English was excellent. It�s what won her the assignment to fly to New York City to cover Fashion Week. Traffic slowed as the car approached the CharlesGate. She took quick stock of herself � strappy heels, check; shimmery �nude� nylons without runs, check; the perfect "Little Black Dress" with just a hint of black lace on the hems, check; totally fake �sapphire� and CZ jewelry, check. Her black purse held a small notebook. She glanced at her reflection in the window as the car came to a stop. Her unusually blonde hair was styled in the latest fashion � shaggy chic was in � and her gaze met her own blue-eyed stare. "All right, Yui. Time to schmooze," she told herself as she paid the driver and made her way into the Pendleton Agency�s Annual Fashion Week Kick Off Party. She handed her invitation to the smiling young woman by the door. The girl was stunning really. Yui spared a moment to think, if this is the staff, the models must really be something. She allowed herself a single moment of terror, then stepped into the mass of humanity already busy enjoying themselves. A receiving line was set up near the door where the owners of Pendleton Agency, Terrence Pendleton and Michael Andrews, greeted their guests. "Yui Hongo." Yui announced herself and stuck out a hand. "Of course! From TokyoLook, correct?" Terrence grasped her hand with both of his and gave her a huge smile. "Darling, if all the journalists of Tokyo are as gorgeous as you, we�re going to have to move our offices!" "You�re too kind." Yui tried to reclaim her hand. Michael Andrews came to her rescue. "Terry, dear, you�re scaring her." To Yui he continued, "Don�t mind him, he�s proof positive that Brits aren�t the least reserved. I have to know though � are those Valkyrie locks au naturel or the work of a godlike stylist?" Yui smiled nervously. She was pretty sure she understood the question. "I am naturally blonde. It is rare, but not unheard of." Michael grinned, "Absolutely fabulous, dearest! Do enjoy yourself tonight. Terry will be sure to get you some time with some of our newest faces this evening � we can�t overlook opportunities in the Far East!" A millisecond later both men were greeting the next newly arrived guest with just as much enthusiasm, leaving Yui to struggle through the hordes on her own. She quickly ducked by a chattering group and made her way straight to the ladies room. Inside it was bit calmer. A pair of women left as she came in, leaving her to stand alone before the enormous mirror. You can do this, Yui told herself. I got here alone, found my hotel, hailed a cab, everything. I can make it. She refused to think about the empty apartment in Tokyo, the rusted ruins of a relationship a year gone, the friends who cared and worried. She would not pray for someone to save her. She kept a tight lock on the memories of the past and the pain and the anxiety and ruined self-confidence. Yui Hongo had carefully rebuilt herself for the last 4 years, and this assignment was the next big step in becoming her own person. She would succeed. She would build a career and make something of herself and stop seeing the evil in her own heart. Someday. A sudden noise made her spin. Stepping from a stall was a middle-aged woman, also dressed in black and gems. She gave Yui a smile and proceeded to wash up. She addressed Yui kindly. "You must be in from overseas. Dolores O�Hara, Washington Times." "Yui Hongo, TokyoLook." "Oh, Japanese fashion rag? Your English is excellent." "Thank you." "First time at Fashion Week?" Yui nodded. Dolores smiled. "Well, stick with me for a bit, dear. I�ll introduce you around." Yui did just that, and within an hour was much more comfortable. Dolores was apparently a grand dame of the fashion scene, a newspaper reporter with a long career, and she knew everyone. Dolores happily introduced Yui to over a dozen people, giving Yui quick private asides that were VERY educational. Yui now knew that the fellow from the New York Times had no taste, the woman from Elle was a word Yui refused to repeat, and that the team from E! Television would only put her on camera if one of the hot new models was in the shot. Yui carefully and slowly sipped her white wine and wondered what she�d gotten into. A whole new world had opened up, one with more artifice than she�d ever seen. She doubted that even Tomo could hold his own here. She spared a wince for the memory. She�d never forgiven herself for the past. "In pain, Yui Darling?" The chipper voice of Terry Pendleton startled her. She must learn to be surprised with grace some day. Turning, she returned his smile. "Perhaps on my feet too long." She lifted one foot and wiggled it. "Fashion before comfort after all!" Her attempt at humor won her laughs from Pendleton and several hangers-on. Feeling a bit more accepted, Yui smiled more comfortably. "Darling, you will be my jade key to the Orient, I swear! I shall woo you, win your approval, and you will help me throw open the doors to the oh so lucrative Japanese market!" Terrence was wagging his eyebrows and dropping kisses on the backs of Yui�s hands as onlookers cheered him on. Yui decided he was all about the entertainment value, but she�d done her research and knew that Pendleton was the business and Andrews was the art. Between them, the men had practically cornered the market on new models. They were particularly astute at bringing on new faces to match new fashions. "Very well, Terrence," Yui replied, struggling for a haughty yet humorous tone. "You can start wooing me by producing some of your new models." From behind Pendleton, Dolores sent a wink and a smile, and Yui realized she�d entered the game. "Of course, of course! First of all, come over here." Terrence led her across the floor to another crowd of people, pushing his way through and guiding Yui up front, "Allow me to present one of our newest employees, artist, brooder, definitely one you�d think twice about bringing home to Mother, the look of Shaggy Chic, Mister Kurt Davis." Yui found herself face to face with a young man about her age with dark blue-black hair and dark brown eyes. Actually, she thought he bore some resemblance to Taka Sukanami, except Davis�s face was a bit more mature, and a startling scar ran from the corner of one eye down to his jawline. He grinned at her and extended his hand. "Konnichiwa, Hongo-san," he said easily. Yui nodded. "Hello, Davis-san. Though it is a bit late for �konnichiwa�." He chuckled charmingly. "So much for my attempt at flirtation in another language! Is this your first time to New York?" Yui thought that this young man was definitely handsome, and definitely had an interesting look. Something dark, almost dangerous, seemed to cling to him - it must be the scar - yet she would have sworn she�d met him before. "It is my first time to New York. Have you ever been to Tokyo?" "No, I�ve never been outside of New York, actually. NYC, born and bred." Terrence wormed into the conversation. "Kurt, I don�t see Glen. Where is he?" "Around about. He�ll turn up." "Glen?" Yui asked. "Glen Rowe. Another model, my roommate and best friend." Kurt seemed happy to give Yui all his attention. "He�s around, but not very fond of shindigs like this." Yui smiled. "A model who dislikes attention? Unusual." She didn�t get to hear Kurt�s reply as Terrence whisked her off to meet another new face. Ten minutes, a few meaningless superlatives, and a half dozen gorgeous faces later, Yui found herself abandoned on the edge of the crowd again with an echo of Terrence�s promise to "do lunch" in her ears. Dolores appeared beside her, handing Yui a fresh glass of wine. "In and out, you see." "Is it always like this?" "The meet and greets are. You schmooze hard for your ten minutes. It�s harder at show receptions to get close to the designers, especially for newbies like you, but easier to get close to the models. It�s particularly hard if you�ve come out against." "Against?" "If you�ve panned any designer in the past. But you � you�re unknown, stunning yourself in a very new way, and you're Japanese, which is the newest target market. You could be a star yourself by the end of the week." Yui�s expression mirrored her anxiety. "Me? A star? I�m a journalist, not a model!" Dolores laughed. "Which means you have all the power. They want to impress you, so they�ll gain a following in Japan. Remember, you represent a whole new world to them. And your looks tell them you know your stuff." Dolores gave her a wink, then wandered off, calling out to other guests. Yui sighed heavily. She knew she was one of the first Japanese fashion reporters to come to New York for openings. Most preferred Paris or Milan. And she was fairly certain she was the first to do the schmooze events. A star herself? Yui spotted a door that seemed to lead to a balcony or patio and made for it. She could use some air. She stepped onto a cleverly designed patio area. The hotel apparently was built as one giant square, with the center a remarkable combination-garden-and-patio, dimly lit to allow what starlight that reached New York City to shine through. Yui made her way to a somewhat secluded bench. "Watch it!" An irritated voice greeted her as she rounded a potted yew tree. "I�m sorry!" Yui stammered. "Just, um, looking for some quiet." "S�alright. Have a seat." The figure waved a hand at the bench. Yui sat and looked up at her unexpected companion. All she could make out was a slouched figure, about 5 inches taller than herself, smoking a cigarette. "You come from the madhouse?" "Madhouse? You mean the Pendleton Agency party? Yes, I did." The figure just nodded. Emboldened, Yui asked, "Are you hiding from it too?" "Yeah. I�m supposed be in there, charming the socks off everyone. I hate that shit." Yui giggled a bit. This then must be the elusive Glen Rowe. "I take it you�re a model." "Ya could say that. I rather say, if they�re willing to pay me to stand there, I�m willing to stand there." This time Yui laughed outright. He seemed so honest, and cool in a really cynical way. "You ain�t with the agency." He made the statement a question. "No, I�m a reporter. From Tokyo." "No kidding?" He seemed to be excited by that. "I�d kill ta go to Tokyo!" "Really?" "Yeah, I got friends there. Uh. Sort of." "Sort of?" "Never mind." He flicked the cigarette butt away. "You wanna go back in?" "Sure." Entering on the arm of a hot new model would do wonders for Yui�s standing. She rose and they began to walk toward the lighted door. "Uh, I�m Glen Rowe, by the way." Just as they hit the light, he paused and stuck out his hand. She smiled, turning to him. "Yui Hongo." In an instant, both were frozen, staring at one another. Everything in Yui screamed that she knew this man, she recognized him, even more so than Kurt Davis. His fair skin, amber eyes, and flame red hair seemed burned into her brain. She knew him! But how? But while her face was certainly an expression of confusion, Glen Rowe�s face was a mask of shock. His mouth moved, like he was trying to say something. Finally, he blurted out, "Yui-chan? Seiryuu No Miko?" |