Wild Cards. Джордж Р. Р. Мартин

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?”

      “I don’t do relationships. I do what I want.”

      “Okay, so, what do you want?”

      “Looking for a turn-on, are you? A peek behind the curtain?” She leaned back, extending her long legs in front of her for the benefit of all the cameras. “I wanted Bruce Lee, for one. He was very fit and flexible even at the age of fifty, some years back. I’m taller, so when we stood together, his face was right at boob level.” She giggled, remembering. “I wanted Golden Boy and he liked me right back. Same with Arnold Schwarzenegger—I heard he liked to grope, so when I had an early small part in one of his movies, I went to the density of a car tire and turned my butt toward him. Gave him a surprise!”

      “You know a lot of celebrities, huh?” Cesar asked.

      She sobered slightly. “I admired Bill Cosby, but when we met for drinks one night after American Hero, my margarita tasted funny, so I made excuses and got the hell out. The bastard sent word around Hollywood and stalled my career in low-budget shit for years.” She savored the bitter memories and used them to stoke her inner fire.

      “Old dudes,” said Cesar. “Every single one of those guys is old enough to be your dad.”

      “They aren’t the only ones, asshole. I had any guy I wanted.”

      Some of the reporters and camera crews were turning away. They had all seen this chatter in the tabloids and online long ago. Off to one side, Ethan talked into his phone, then let his shoulders sag as he lowered it. As Jade Blossom expected, she had little to worry about from him. She sipped her margarita and turned to Cesar. “What about that girlfriend? You don’t have one, do you? She’d be way jealous right now.”

      Cesar slammed down his glass, sloshing iced tea onto the table. “I play piano, bitch, and I’m good at it! I’m human, so I’m better than you!”

      At the sound of his raised voice, the reporters and camera crews turned back, calling out questions and recording again.

      Jade Blossom was startled but she liked his response. “Somebody spike your iced tea? What’s in that stuff?”

      “I’m damn good on the ivories and I wrote a damn good essay! Girls don’t like me, that’s all.”

      Jade Blossom jumped on his weak spot. “Why don’t girls like you?”

      “I dunno.” He drank more iced tea, the fire seemingly gone.

      “Hey, Jade Blossom!” The Latina reporter was smirking. “You going to give him tips on getting girls? After all, he’s got you for the day!” All the newspeople laughed.

      Jade Blossom yanked Cesar’s cold glass out of his hand. She poured a little of her margarita into it and slid it back to him. “You’re not ugly. You need to work out, tubby.”

      “I hate my life.”

      “Think that makes you special?”

      “My mom’s really strict. But I like band. And I’m kinda shy.” He drank some of his spiked iced tea. “I hate my life and I hate you.”

      Jade Blossom laughed. She understood hate. “Is it because of my ace?”

      Cesar leaned forward and threw down a long swig of his drink. “Mom came down with our band, you know, to be a chaperone? Outside the hotel, she stopped to talk to the Purity Baptist Church people. I listened and you know what? They make some sense. Mom says so, too. You’re not human. You’re different now.”

      “If you can live in a world with dogs and cats, you can live with people like me.”

      He pounded his glass down on the table again. “Live