Jade by Olivia Rigal Page A

her online after I had told her how my brother had stopped me from trying to go to ballet lessons.
    We go back up and get dressed for dinner. I throw on my all-purpose black dress. Agatha’s the one who picked it out for me a few years ago when we had to attend an official research fundraiser. I feel comfortable in it; it’s a classic, and, as Agatha so smartly put it, “it shows the front goods, while minimizing the back assets.” 
    I put on my make-up while I’m sitting on Chanlina’s bed, and while she tries on the new clothes Oliver has purchased with her at the market. I’m fascinated. She has no idea how fabulous she looks. She’s got a figure to kill for, and a natural elegance which is so amazing that she could actually model dressed up in a garbage bag and look chic! 
    She’s not coming with us for dinner. She says she hates those boring meals with a bunch of dressed up grown-ups, and she’d rather stay in her room and watch movies on television. She’ll leave the separation door open so that we can come say goodnight when we get back.
    Oliver calls me from the lobby, and I go downstairs. He came up to change earlier, while we were at the pool. As I step out of the elevator, Oliver and I both do a double take. It’s the first time we’ve seen each other dressed up. 
    My heart skips a beat as I take in his new look. I spent the afternoon with Indiana Jones, and now I’m going out for dinner with James Bond. 
    I’m not sure which one I like better but, right now, I think he’s really hot with his dark suit, white shirt, and red tie. Very classy. 
    He’s classy, but icy cold. During the taxi ride to the restaurant, he remains silent, and I let him be. I have very dark moods too, and I’m enjoying the scenery anyway. I’m a city girl at heart. While I can’t see myself living in Luang Prabang, I imagine that I could live here, in Bangkok. The city has a pulse similar to Manhattan, with the bonus of a more laid back population.
    What I’ve discovered that I love about Asia is the lack of raised voices. I’ve learned that in this part of the word, if you lose your cool, you lose face. Here losing face is bad, very bad.
    “Preoccupied?” I ask as we get out of the car, and enter the magnificent hotel in which the restaurant is located.
    “Yes, I’m sorry,” he says, “There is a deal I’m working on, and we were unable to reach an agreement earlier. I’m uneasy because I’m not sure what the other guy really wants.” 
    He sighs, and runs a hand from his forehead to the back of his head. It’s a stress gesture that I’ve never seen him make before.  
    “The dinner was organized to celebrate the closing, but it’s just going to be a continuation of the discussion. I’m sorry I won’t be very good company tonight,” he says.
    We reach the restaurant, and are walked to a very large table set for ten. Once we’re seated, two empty chairs remain. Oliver introduces me to some of his fellow dealers. There’s a giant man from Turkey with a diminutive wife; well, maybe she’s not shorter than me, but he’s so large and she’s so thin that she appears unsubstantial. Next to them is a couple from Israel, and then there is a Chinese couple. I sit next to the Chinese woman who starts chatting with me. Her accent is so perfect that, for an instant, I feel as if I’m listening to a BBC program. She’s been raised in Hong Kong and then studied at the London School of Economics. 
    She tells me that she used to assist her husband and work with him.  She had stopped, now that they have four children. Even with help, she says, it takes a lot of work and organization to run a big household like hers. 
    Despite her light chatter, I can feel that she’s stressed. Actually, everyone at the table seems under pressure. 
    The last couple arrives, they’re all smiles but the existing tension goes up a notch. He is American, in his forties and she’s Thai, and probably much younger. With the ton