Wild Cards. Джордж Р. Р. Мартин

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      Eventually they spied an upscale tavern and Jade Blossom brought them down gently on the sidewalk, increasing her density, and his, back to normal. She let her knees bend slightly and found her footing even on her Jimmy Choo sandals.

      Cesar stumbled backward, lost his hold on her, and landed on his butt. “Shit.”

      Ignoring him, Jade Blossom strode inside, her silken gown swaying around her long legs. The bar was airy, with a vaulted ceiling and exposed rafters of unvarnished wood. Brick walls, painted a sand color, stood at each end, and the wooden tables and chairs matched the walls. Three-foot potted plants gave the place some greenery. Easy-listening instrumental music played faintly from overhead speakers. In the center, an internal pavilion was surrounded by a three-foot wooden railing.

      As Cesar hurried after her, she asked to be seated in the pavilion. It contained a table for six on a raised platform that probably doubled for musical performers. The aroma of sizzling burgers drifted from the kitchen.

      Elaine came clattering inside from the limo with Ethan and up onto the platform. She turned two of the chairs to face outward in front of the steps that led to a break in the wall.

      Without acknowledging her, Jade Blossom sat down in one chair, crossing her legs so that the colorful split satin gown fell away nearly up to her hips. She patted the other chair without looking and Cesar got the message to join her.

      “Elaine, bring me a strawberry margarita and an iced tea for Cesar.”

      “Hey, this is a special occasion—” Cesar stopped when Jade Blossom turned her palm out and stuck it in front of his face.

      “Got it.” Elaine hurried off just as reporters and camera crews from the protest outside the hotel rushed into the bar. They set up just in front of Jade Blossom, as she had expected, below the dais.

      Ethan stepped in front of Jade Blossom, this time at a safe distance. “I’m horrified by your behavior. The studio will hear about this. I think your role in the film may be at risk. You can’t stop me from speaking up.”

      “You’re blocking the cameras, asshole.” She waved for him to move away.

      Ethan strode away, pulling out his phone.

      “Aren’t you worried about what he said?” Cesar asked in awe.

      “Worried? Not about that little pussy.”

      As photographers snapped stills and news crews took video, Jade Blossom turned to Cesar. “God, I hate that easy-listening shit. Well, then. How did I get stuck with you?”

      He gave a nervous laugh. “Uh, I wrote this essay.”

      “On being a Chao? Is that why they picked you? Why didn’t I get a Jones or Hernandez? Is that how they matched us up?”

      “I wrote about ‘What Jazz Means to Me.’”

      “It means you get to be my date.” She accepted her margarita from a server and sipped it, enjoying the salt, the sweet strawberry, and the cold tequila. “What did your essay say?”

      “I said my favorite album is Bitches Brew by Miles Davis and explained why.”

      “Bitches Brew. Is that a joke?”

      “Hey, it’s real. It’s considered a landmark.”

      “Jade Blossom!” One of the reporters, a young Latina, held up a hand. “What do you think of your new friend?”

      Jade Blossom turned to Cesar, aware that all the reporters were listening. “You’re from Seattle? Whoever heard of Seattle jazz? What instrument do you play?”

      “The teacher told me you’d get a full report,” said Cesar.

      “I didn’t waste my time on it.”

      “I play piano.” He looked up as though hoping for approval.

      Jade Blossom sipped her margarita, thinking, He’s just the kind of loser I expected.

      Another reporter, a young guy, shouted from behind a camera crew, “Jade Blossom, what do you think of Bambi Coldwater?”

      “I’m as human as anybody, only more so,” Jade Blossom shot back. “Ask the bitch what she thinks of that.”

      Cesar gave a goofy laugh.

      She sighed. “You have a girlfriend, Cesar?”

      Cesar hid behind his iced tea with a couple of big swallows. “Are you married?”

      “Me? Ha!”

      “I guess you can play the field a lot, huh? Have lots of relationships?”